Cold Iron lyrics

My baby died


should have buried her at the crossroads

Well, my baby died

should have buried her at the crossroads

Cause she comes to see me every night

makes me reap what I have sewed.



I went to see the preacherman

didn't know what else to do

Yeah, I went to see the preacherman

didn't know what else to do

cause that woman she won't leave me alone

I'm payin' the price for bein' untrue



Preacherman told me,

keep some cold iron by the bed

preacherman, he done told me

keep some cold iron by my bed

cause that's what you gotta do

when you're haunted by the livin' dead



So I got me some cold iron

and some dimes to pay my toll

Yeah I got me some cold iron

and some dimes to pay my toll

I'm gonna send that woman back where she belongs

I hope it don't cost me my soul



words and music by J Franklin Evans

Cold Iron track list

Here's a list of the tracks I'm planning for the Cold Iron song cycle. Things may change but for now this is the lineup of song titles:

The Passing
The Devil I Know
It Hurts
Aeon's End remix
Cold Iron
The Crawl
West of the Moon
Someone to Love
Child of the Moon
The Passing reprise

New Years traditions

We didn't really have any New Years traditions in my family. My mom had this one thing but it was more of a superstition--that if you did laundry on New Years then you'll be washing the clothes of someone who will be dead by the end of the year. I don't know if that's an honest-to-goodness superstition or just an excuse for her to get out of doing laundry for just one day a year.

Of course I watch a lot of football but I do that anyway, New Years or not. That doesn't count.

So, I"m starting a tradition, for myself, for this coming New Years. I'm going to have surf 'n' turf for my afternoon meal for New Years. Got a nice New York Strip at the grocery, along with some shrimp, today. Damn, I'm getting hungry thinking about it . . . gotta wait, though. Something to look forward to!

What about you? Do you have any special family traditions, superstitions, meals, or whatever, that you do on New Years?

The idol with the feet of clay

I'm watching Being Human now and there's a situation that I find fascinating.

It's been done before, I know, and it's been done before, but it works like this: in the show, the guy who is considered the leader of the vampires is trying to get them to swear off drinking blood. He recruits another vampire, a very old one who is wel known and admired by the others, to take the pledge. (He modeled the whole thing after Alcoholics Anonymous--which gave me a good chuckle.) This vampire is apparently gung-ho for the idea of going dry. He speaks at the meetings about it, about the struggle, and how they have to be strong and keep fighting the urge. The others are inspired by his example and are actually managing to do it.

But the truth is, this guy isn't dry--he's conspiring with the leader to continue drinking blood. The others don't know it. It's something the lead vampire thinks is necessary--he really hates himself for doing it but doesn't see where he has a choice.

What I find interesting is this: even though this guy, this powerful figure, was not able to live up to what he was preaching others were, by following what they thought was his example. By him pretending to have the strength to fight the craving the others actually found the strength. Even though his life was a lie, that lie was helping lots of others fight and start winning a hard-fought battle.

So, the lie was helping others, perhaps even thousands of others in the long run. But it's still a lie.

The show doesn't explore it in quite the detail that I would but isn't it just rife with potential? Maybe I'll do something with that at some point. There's a lot here that interests me. It's a subject I've thought about for a long time.

Post Xmas Randomocity

So, xmas for 2010 is in the books.

My holiday was okay. Uneventful. In my case that's all I ask. I didn't receive a lot of gifts but then, I don't want a lot of gifts. So, that was cool.

I did manage to lay down the basic rhythm guitar track for a new tune. I may go back and do it over, or maybe not. We'll see.

'Tis the season for lists. Top ten so-and-so of the year. Someone needs to make a top ten list of the top ten lists.

I just don't understand religious people. Really. Don't get me wrong--I have a lot of dear friends who are deeply religious. But it seems like so many of them are so damned gullible. Maybe that's part of it? I don't know. Even when I considered msyelf a Christian I didn't automatically believe everything everyone told me. I didn't shut mny eyes to common sense. Which, I reckon, may explain why I'm no longer Christian.

Oh well. Randomocity in the title means there really is no central point. I hope your holiday was fun. Any New Year's Eve plans? Go ahead, make me jealous, tell me abou them!

The inevitable Happy Holidays post!

So, to the one or two folks who pop in to see what I'm up to--I hope you have a happy, safe, and fun holiday! Best of luck in the coming year!

Pre-Holiday Randomocity

I was going to spend today--which is a corporate holiday for me--relaxing, after doing a couple of chores such as giving Atari his bath and making some groceries. I was going to nap, watch TV, not do too much productive stuff.

Then my muse woke up and gave me an idea for a little instrumental tune. It won't quite fit in with my current song cycle--this is a little too mellow for that--but it's a nice piece and if I pull it off it'll be haunting and lovely. Fingers crossed! Which makes it hard to play the guitar or the synth, but whatever . . .

You'll see a new widget over to your right. It's a web series that my best friend is producing/writing/directing. You can help fund it--like I did--to bring something lovely and entertaining into the world. My friend is quite a talented writer and this will be something very much worth your time. Tell your friends about it. The more the merrier!

I became a year older yesterday. I really wish that I had something profound to say about that, but really I can't think of anything. I'm an old geezer, a dirty old man, covered in the scars that life has given me, and I really wouldn't change anything. While I don't have all that many friends the few I have are people who have proven themselves. I don't have time or patience to deal with flakes anymore and most people out there seem to fall into that category.

When  you get a chance visit Winter's Thrall's website, since I'm taking this opportunity to push my friends' creative efforts. Jez is an incredible songwriter and performer, and his music is worthy of our time. Give his stuff a listen.

Of course you are encouraged to click the links to hear my stuff, too. It'd make a dirty old man very happy.

Something is very wrong on Wolfe IV

(Below is a transcript of the final transmission from the expedition investigating the ancient civilization on Wolfe IV. Analysis of the recording indicates the speaker is Dr. Alan Tate, an exobiologist assigned to the team.)

I'm sending a blip now with all of the data we've collected. Please analyse it carefully.

We were wrong about what happened here. All this time we thought the stellar irregularities are responsible for the death of this world. It was so long ago, and the eruption from the local star was so intense, who could blame us? But we were wrong.

They were all long dead before it happened, maybe even thousands of years before. Something else wiped them out. We know what it was. What they were. Please be advised that they are still here.

We opened a chamber deep underground, and in it we found . . . things. We took a few of them back to be examined in detail. Our activities awakened them. They studied us and we didn't even know it. They learn, they adapt, very quickly. It seems to be programmed into their very nature. They knew everything about us before they struck.

Everyone else is dead. Everyone. Soon I will be, too. The reactor will go supercritical in minutes. Hopefully before . . . before they find me. I'd rather die that way than . . . oh, my god . . .

These things are parasites. They have evolved, or maybe they were created, to attack space-faring species. We managed to kill a few but there are so many, and they reproduce exponentially, as well. There were only a few of us left before we even realized what we were up against.

I know a distress call went out. Please be advised--we didn't send it. I've only now managed to gain access to the communications room. Perhaps that's part of their plan, as well . . . if they are intelligent enough to plan. Rossy (probably Dr. Melanie Ross, senior mission specialist, archeologist) thought they might just be very sophisticated animals, creatures who watch and imitate behaviours they observe in the species they infect. Maybe she was right. Now I'm not so sure.

They want you to come and try to rescue us.. That's how they''ll spread. Soon they will be everywhere and mankind will join the ranks of those who lived here before--a dead race. We won't be able to stop them.

So, please, stay away. Do not come here. Honor the names of those who died here, but leave them here. For the sake of humanity.

Goodbye. Tell Daniel (Daniel Tate, Dr. Tate's son) and Pam (Dr. Pamela Tasso, Dr. Tate's ex-wife) I love them.

(Long range sensor scans of Wolfe IV indicate areas of high radioactivity in the area where the expedition was based, consistent with a super-critical event. The decision of the Ad Hoc committee created to investigate this situation is for a team to be sent to the site for a forensic evaluation  Dr. Tate's psychological profile indicates that he was not as stable emotionally as once thought and he perhaps suffered a psycholgical break and destroyed the expedition as the result of a delusion. An on-site team will gather evidence. Analysis of the compressed data file transmitted is still pending. Any specimens found are to be gathered and returned for analysis.)

The Devil That I Know

The Devil That I Know




You say you don't understand my rage

Well, there you go, it just goes to show

'cause it’s the same thing all over again

Same old show, do your damage and go



You never see from my perspective

I tried to explain why I feel this pain

It really doesn't take a detective

to understand where this is coming from



This is the devil that I know, a gift from you to me

This is the dance I have to dance, the show I have to see



I guess I should be grateful

You made it possible, irreversible

Because of you now I am knowledgeable

Honorable, accessible



How you made it clear that you hated my dreams

So pathetic, unsympathetic

I realize now that it was more than it seems

Your scorn was a cover for your fears



This is the devil that I know, a gift from you to me

This is the dance I have to dance, the show I have to see

This is the pain that I must feel, forever a part of me

It keeps me sane and sets me free



I used to think I was a monster because of you

I wondered what was wrong with me

I hated myself because you told me to

I finally discovered it's not me, the monster was you



This is the rage I'll always feel

Long as I live, I'll never forgive

You've taken all from me that you can steel

No longer submissive, no longer derisive



This is the devil that I know, the one that brought me here

the rage that blooms inside I think I've made that clear

You'll never really understand why I do what I do

But you introduced me to the devil and for that I thank you



words and music by J Franklin Evans

The Prince, The Stag, and the Wisest Man

by J Franklin Evans



Once upon a time, in a land far away, the Prince rode on a quest through the vast forest.

The Prince wore a simple cloak, covering his fine armor and weapons. His horse's bridle was unadorned but well-made and expensive. At first glance he appeared to be a simple traveler, perhaps a merchant, using the forest as a shortcut.

His purpose, however, was more than it seemed. He was on a quest from his father, the King.

It was the third day of his quest when he encountered a stag.

This stag was magnificent, fully grown and in the prime of his life, with an impressive rack atop his head. This rack was entangled in a thorn bush a few feet from the trail.

When the Prince saw the stag he stopped his horse and climbed down, drawing his sword and approaching the animal carefully. The stag, he reasoned, had been so trapped for a few days, and was weak from trying to free himself. He could feel the fear from the beast radiating from it towards him as he approached.

He slashed with his sword, once, twice, thrice, and freed the beast.

As the Prince turned back towards his horse, intending to remount and continue on his way, he discovered that the stag had not run away as expected. He turned to see the animal standing still, watching him.

"Why did you do that?" the stag asked.

Astonished at the thought of a talking stag, but only for a moment, the Prince considered the question. "Do what?" he asked. "Free you?"

"Yes. Why did you not simply continue on your way, leaving me in my predicament? Or slay me?"

"I saw no need for your suffering, especially since it was only a matter of a moment for me to free you." the Prince replied. "Also, I do not kill for sport and as you are weak from hunger and thirst, it would not be sporting to hunt you in any case. I also do not require your meat, as I am amply provisioned. Letting you live means another who is less fortunate  may kill you, where your meat would feed a family for some time, and your skin would provide clothes and protection from the elements. If this does not happen you will certainly sire others who will in turn provide their meat and skins to the people of the Kingdom, or sire still more in their own time."

"Indeed." said the stag. "You are wise."

"Some may say that. I am, however, quite simple and oblivious to the most obvious facts."

"Modest, too." the stag said, and snorted, as if amused. "I see you wear the cloak of a simple tradesman, but your armor is fair and well-maintained. Your sword is sharp, free of rust, and you are skilled in its use. Your mount is healthy, well cared for, and strong. I suspect there is more to you, simple traveler, than meets the eye."

The Prince bowed. "You know me?" he asked, becoming amused himself.

"I believe you are the King's son, the Prince and heir to the throne. Am I not correct?"

"You are." The Prince said, smiling.

"And why do you travel in my forest, alone? Are you not afraid of bandits and cut-throats?"

"I can handle simple riff raff." the Prince said. "There are no outlaws in this land who can harm me. I travel under orders from my father, the King, who has sent me on a quest."

"Really?" the stag said. "What do you seek?"

"He has asked me to find the wisest man in the Kingdom. It is said he lives in this forest. I have searched three days so far, though, and have not found him."

"How will you know this man when you find him?"

"Father only told me that I would know him."

"I see." the stag said, nodding. "How came you to be sent on this quest?"

"Of that I'm not sure." the Prince said, his brow wrinkling in thought. "One of father's guards told me he heard father muttering in his bedroom four nights ago. He was supposed to be alone so the guard burst in, fearing an assassin had slipped in. Instead he found father standing at the window. The window was open and the room was freezing cold. There was a bird on the window sill, a crow, and father seemed to be talking with it."

"Ah." the stag said.

"You say that as if this answers a question."

"In a way. Many crows can speak your tongue, though they know not what they are saying."

"I thought of that as well. However, the guard told me father was weeping, and sent him away. The next day he sent for me and gave me this quest."

"I see." the stag said. "Well, I must tell you that I am a spirit of this forest, old and powerful. Since you have saved me from my predicament I am empowered to grant you a wish."

"Really?" The Prince said.

"And you were correct earlier when you mentioned that I was weak from hunger and thirst, so please be about it quickly so I may eat something and drink."

"May I have just a moment to consider?" The Prince asked.

The stag said nothing, simply bowing his antlered head, acceding to the Prince's request. The Prince stroked his chin as he thought.

"My father," he finally said, "Is a wise and powerful man, beloved by his subjects, respected by his peers. He has no enemies; something I'm sure you would agree is remarkable for one as powerful as he. It is no secret that when his life ends I will inherit his throne. While I am beloved in my own right, if I may say so, I know I would not be nearly as good at ruling this land as he. I love this land, my dear stag, and wish to serve it and her people well when the time comes. My wish is this--that I serve the people and this land even better than my father when I become king."

"So be it." the stag said. He lowered his head again and raised it and for a brief moment his dark eyes flashed red. "Your wish is granted."

There was a startled bellow from behind, and when the Prince turned he saw his horse lying on the ground, unmoving. He rushed and knelt beside his mount, touching him. "My horse is dead." he said, standing, turning back to face the stag.

The stag was gone.

#

Poetry for the Poisoned

I dig Kamelot, I'll let you know right away.

And this one, which came out last July, does not disappoint. They continue to develop musically, thematically, lyrically . . . Lead singer Eric Khan is in fine voice, as you'd expect, but these guys flex their creative muscles.

The one is darker than their previous work. The guitar work is a bit more pronounced, and there are more solos than I normally expect from them. All of this is a Good Thing. Getting Epica's Simone Simons to contribute vocals on a couple of songs is also a Good Thing--she's no stranger to Kamelot's recording sessions but here she's especially wonderful. Check her out on "House on a Hill." Absolutely wonderful song.

There aren't that many albums--not even by these guys--that I usually listen to from beginning to end. This one is that good, though. There aren't any songs I want to skip over. Check it out. It's quite wonderful.

I give this one an A+. And I do not hand those out lightly.

The Next Big Thing

After much thought I've decided to close out the Ashes and Bone song cycle.

I know it's short--only three songs--but it just feels like it's done. You can go to my Myspace page to hear them if you want. They are the first three songs--"Walks Like A Man," "Homeworld," and "Ashes and Bone."

Next up will be a longer one--probably ten or twelve songs--I'm calling Cold Iron. These will all be extremely heavy tunes, on the order of "Walks Like A Man," or "Inside." There is no underlying story or anything, though the songs will be unified stylistically and thematically.

The reason for this is simple. In the past I've heard so many bands that considered themselves "metal" who would release a tune that really rocked. So, I'd buy their CD, expecting ten more songs like that one. But no, the other songs would be really sappy ballads or stupid and boring pop tunes. Just that one song to catch my interest, then boredom . . . anyways, this is a response to that. If you like one of these tunes, you'll like all of them, more than likely.

I'll be posting lyrics for the tunes that actually have lyrics (I'm anticipating two instrumentals at this point, though there may be more) as I write them. I may also do a couple of remixes of some of my older stuff that I think would fit with the newer stuff--got a couple of tunes in mind for that, in fact.

I'll also probably not upload these until I have them all finished. I'd like to post them all at once, so you can listen to the whole thing in one sitting. This of course means it'll probably be a while before anything new gets uploaded to my music websites. Plenty of time for you to click over and listen to the stuff that's there now!

So, watch this space for lyrics, news, and whatnot!

Pain as a character

Okay, I'm thinking out loud here, kind of, so bear with me, and forgive me in advance if this doesn't make any sense.

I'm thinking about pain, and how people use it to obviate guilt.

Say you've done something terrible. You didn't mean to do it, but something horrible happened and it's your fault. Maybe because of you, your child is dead.

No matter what anyone else may say--even if your spouse, your parents and your in-laws, everyone is willing to forgive you, would you ever be willing to just forgive yourself? I wouldn't. I don't think I could ever suffer enough or go through enough pain to feel like I've attoned for something like that. No matter what everyone else says.

But also, look at it this way. Put the shoe on the other foot. If you are the spouse in this case, and you told your wife or husband that you forgive him or her and she thought about it and said, "Okay," and went on with his or her life like nothing had happened, would you still feel the same way about this person? If he or she can just shrug off something like that, like it was a minor fender bender in a parking lot or something? Even if watching this person suffer the agony of grief and guilt tears at your heart and you'd give anything, anything at all, to ease this person's suffering, even if you get frustrated as hell at this person for continuing to torment him-or-herself over this, even if in your heart you really and truly forgave this person, wouldn't you rather he or she felt that way than the opposite?

That's one aspect to this story I'm working on. Another is the role of pain in love and relationships. Yeah, I write about pain a lot. It's one of the few aspects of the human condition I think I understand.

So, this is where you say something.

Monday night randomocity

Waiting to get my additional copies of the anthology--gonna autograph some and give them to some people. Should be here by now.

And I've been thinking about my music. The next thing. I'm thinking I'm going to make an adjustment to my style. I've been listening to some stuff that's a little outside my usual and getting some ideas. The next batch of tunes is going to be really heavy--as heavy as I can make them. I'm in the mood to thunder.

I need to start rewriting Mythophobia--my friend has given me some notes and has helped me improve it dramatically. It'll require a tear down and rebuild but that's a Good Thing if it helps. It wasn't bad before (or so I believe) but it'll be really good after I finish this.

My friend, by the way, is set to produce/write/direct her own web series, "Witchy Ways." You can check out the Facebook page here. Be sure to click "Like" while you're there. It's going to be amazing.

Nothing in particular going on with me tonight--done with the day and I'm just chilling before House. How about you guys? Doing anything special on this Monday night?

The moment I''ve waited a lifetime for has come . . .

To my eternal delight I had a package waiting for me at the UPS store the other day. It was a book--the one you see to your right. I tore into the package and turned to page 183--what did I see there, you ask? I saw this:

Yes, that is my story. My byline. Me. I can remember writing the words that appear on those pages. I wrote them on this very computer.

Yes, it's a small press. It ain't like it's Playboy or Cosmopolitan, but hell, I'll take it. I really can't describe it. I mean, I've read that story until really I'm sick of it, and I've seen the proofs that look exactly like the book but in electronic form, but it's not the same thing as actually getting my hands on the damned thing.

I do have more ideas for stories and I may actually write them, since, now that I can say I'm published, a lot more doors are open to me that were closed before. We'll see. Maybe this will lead to something. Maybe not. Either way, I"m happy.

Now, if I could just get somebody to listen to my music . . . that's next on the list. You could do that--just click the links above or underneath the image of the book. After clicking the image of the book and ordering it, that is.

I can feel it . . .

It's moving around inside me. It's been there for a while now. I keep waiting for it to mature and emerge but it's taking it's sweet time.

It's driving me crazy.

It's an idea for a story. I know when it's ready that it'll be a really good one, intense, powerful, with a bittersweet ending.

Unfortunately that's about all I know about it so far. I've got a setting and the very beginnings of a plot. And a basic theme--it'll be about how love is not possible without pain, and the more one loves someone the more pain one will feel.

It'll also be a study in contrasts. I love having really beautiful stories set in places of almost unimaginable horror. Finding beauty in places of horrendous ugliness. Swans in sewers. Roses in hell. It makes for some moving, powerful stories.

So, it's really frustrating that my subconcious apparently still isn't quite ready to vomit this thing up. I've learned from experience that attempting to start something before it's ready is a big mistake, and could possibly ruin it for me down the road.

Which means I wait. And wait. And wait . . . that blank first page will remain blank until it's really and truly ready to be filled.

Dammit!

In case you didn't know

I do have a Myspace page for my music. Go to www.myspace.com/jfranklinevans and you can hear 25 of my tunes. Do a dude a favor and give them a listen. You'll find the new one, "Walks Like A Man," there--I'm especially pleased with that one--along with "Inside," inspiration for a short story yours truly will be working on. I'm even inspiring myself! Anyway, click over, give them a listen. I'll be right here if you have any questions or comments.

A return to prose

Okay, I've got this idea for a story.

I don't ordinarily write prose. Not anymore, anyways. I spend my time writing lyrics and screenplays and proposals for screenplays--hopefully one day something will get produced, But prose? Not so much. Just doesn't appeal to me after beating my head against the "gotta be published to get published" wall.

Of course now I am published so a few more doors are now open to me that weren't before. Which now means that it may not actually be a waste of time to sit down and write a story.

So, as soon as I work out a few more details I'm gonna start on this tale that's inspired by my song, "Inside." It should run to about twenty thousand words or so, I guesstimate.

It'll be a horror story, but in the end it'll be about love, and how it may be the ultimate act of love for someone to allow them to destroy themselves.

These are the things I think about.

It should be pretty intense. There is a very difficult concept that lies at the heart of this thing that, if I can convey it properly, will be quite wonderful. If I miss the mark, though, it'll . . . what's the word? Suck. That's the word.

So, wish me luck, and I'll keep you posted. I wrote a little on it a while back and posted it here but I think that'll change significantly.

If you want to hear the song that I'm basing this on click the links to your right or at the top. Feel free to check out the other tunes, too. I feel sure there will be one or two that you'll dig.

Mid-Week Randomocity!

In the next couple of days I should have my own, writer's copy of the book to your left in my hot little hands. It's my payment for contributing a story. Check out page 183 "Cabin Fever." It's a real page turner! The rest of the stories ain't bad, either.

I'm writing this to put off doing something productive--rewriting a proposal for a TV show. The show is a good idea, I think, and the industry friend I had take a look agrees. So, we'll see. Keep your fingers crossed we can get a deal for it. If we do my friend has promised to help me with it--that makes me very happy, because a:) she's a terrific writer and b:) she can actually be counted on. Ain't many people like that in the world these days, I can tell you.

I've been listening to my new tune, "Walks Like A Man," quite a bit over the past few days. I'm still extremely happy with it. It's exactly what I was trying to do. So, if you're interested, you can go to my Myspace profile here and click "Play" to give it a listen. It's the first tune on the list. You can check out the others while you're there. Let me know what you think!

I just won a hundred buck gift card in a drawing. Really cool---it's gonna come in really handy over the next couple of weeks.

And, silly me, I didn't even notice until yesterday that Thanksgiving is next week! Damn!

Oh, well.

Walks Like A Man available

Just uploaded "Walks Like A Man." You can hear it by going here to my Myspace age, or clicking one of the links above or to your right. It's really heavy and I'm extremely happy with it. Please, give it a listen and let me know what you think!

Projects in the queue

A friend of mine who knows a helluva lot more about the TV and movie industry is giving me feedback on some stuff I sent her--one was a screenplay, the other a proposal for a TV series. She's gonna give me some more on the screenplay, but she gave me enough on the series proposal that I can start revising that. She really dug the series idea, and I value her opinion, so I'm excited about it, too. Anyways, rewriting the proposal is moving up the to-do list. Then I'll probably have more detailed feedback from her on the screnplay and can rework that. I've got a little more I want to add to it now, anyway.

But first I want to finish this song cycle, Ashes and Bone. Got two more tunes for it. I'm maybe two-thirds of the way through the third tune, "Walks Like a Man." I'm hoping to be done with it in the next few days. I'll be doing the vocal today, and maybe some lead guitar work. I know there will be more guitar tracks. Whatever else it needs. I'm digging it, so far, and the further I get into it the more excited about it I am.

After that will be an instrumental piece, "Said and Done," (title may change later). That will close out the Ashes and Bone song cycle, with four tunes. That's when I'll revisit my screenplay and re-enter that world. (The proposal is much shorter and won't take nearly as long so I can fit that in while I'm working on other stuff.)

The next song cycle I'm calling Cold Iron, and it'll be composed of extremely heavy stuff. Like, Black Sabbath inspired tunes, heavy, slow backbeats, thundering, menacing guitars, that sort of thing. I'm realy looking forward to doing that, too. It's the music I love, and while I know I'm weird I also know I'm not the only person in the whole world who digs that kind of music.

So, keep your ears open for "Walks Like a Man," coming up in the next few days! Busy, busy . . .

Low Carb Brown Rice Salad!



So, the above is a pic of my supper tonight. Turned out pretty tasty, and it does not cause a spike in my blood sugar. It weighs in at about 30-40 grams of carbs--most of them those lovely complex carbs that burn slowly and steadily. I've made this several times and it's pretty versatile--there are a few things you can do to change the vibe, depending on what you have a taste for.

1/4 cup brown rice

1 cup water

5-6 sugar snap beans

two table spoons frozen sweet peas

1/4 cup fresh baby spinache leaves

5-6 baby carrots (or one small sliced squash)

Put all the above into a microwave safe bowl. Cook on high for 10=14 minutes--until the rice has absorbed all the water. When you take it out of the microwave you can do what I did tonight--add a couple tablespoons of olive oil vinagritte dressing and a couple tablespoons olives (green or black, doesn't mattter--though I adore olives) for sort of a garden-salady vibe. Or, you can add a couple tablespoons of low-fat, nonflavored yogurt and a little cinnamon for a creamy, sweetish vibe. Either way you're getting something else good for you--the olive oil helps lower the bad cholestoral, the cinnamon is supposed to help your body regulate insulin.

It has the added benefit of being pretty darned tasty, too.

Friday night randomocity

So, I'm watching wrestling on Syfy after spending a couple hours recording guitar tracks for the new tune, "Walks Like a Man." (See previous post for the lyrics if you want.)

It's been a long week and I'm beat. Unfortunately I'll be going in to work tomorrow morning, too. The phones will be down, though, so it won't be so bad. I can put on my headphones and listen to my iPod for hours.

Speaking of work, got some news about the future yesterday. The office here will be closing a year earlier than we thought--by April 2012 instead of April 2013. Which means I'll probably be moving to Birmingham or somewhere west of Atlanta next year sometime.

I hate moving and I'm dreading this one. It's going to be expensive. Yes, I get reimbursed for most of the cost, but that's the key, isn't it? Reimbursed. Gotta front the money myself. I think I can come up with it but it means borrowing against my 401K. Just finished paying off another loan against my 401K a couple months ago. So, that sucks. Still, if I want to have a job I need to find a way to do it. I've just got too much time in with this job to try to find something else.

Healthwise, I've lost 20 pounds so far. Blood sugar is balls-on perfect. The program there is progressing. Of course, Thanxgiving is coming up, and that's gonna be a challenge for me. I love turkey, dressing, mashed potatoes, all that. I can still have that stuff, too, but only in very small doses. I'd rather not have it at all than just have tiny tastes of it righ tnow.

Monday night randomocity

I think maybe I've figured this carb/blood sugar thing out, finally. With a little help from http://www.behealthy.com/. Basically I track my carbs--15 grams = 1 unit. No more than three units per meal, no more than two per snack. Three meals and three snacks a day. 15 units of carbs per day, give or take.

It's a bit of a pain finding out carbs for some foods but most have it on the label. Most restaurants have nutritional info on their websites for most of their menu items. Very helpful. I'm also only eating meat maybe once a day, and not much then.

It's not so bad. For breakfast yesterday I had a half waffle--I added some wheat germ to the mix--and some sausage and even syrup. Two hours later, blood sugar was 120. Awesome. (Atari got the other half of the waffle, if you're curious. He loves waffles, especially when I add the wheat germ to them.)

So, blood sugar the past couple mornings has been around 118. At night, two hours after dinner, it's . . . 118.  Doesn't get more stable than that!

Musically, I just laid down the bass track for "Walks Like a Man." This tune is gonna be kind of bass-heavy, a dark tune that'll have some quiet moments and some moments of utter cacophony. It's also gonna be probably my longest tune--weighs in at over seven minutes now. I may cut some of it. Or I may not. We'll see. I'm really excited about it, though--this tune is gonna be especially badass.

I realized the other night that another sign iof getting old is I actually watch the drug commercials on TV and some of them hav relevance in my life. And I brag to strangers about my blood sugar. Sheesh.

Walks Like a Man lyrics

Walks Like a Man



She was out late one night in a different part of town

She'd done a good line or two and was looking to party down

she found herself in a new club, a new vibe, a whole new crowd

and the music it was smokin'. The music it was loud.



He was a tiger. He'd seen her a million times before she'd seen him once.



She could feel the moment, when he singled her out

dancing on the crowded floor the entire world shut out

he gave her time to feel at home, time to find her groove

let her have a drink or two before he made his move



Oblivious to the danger, she smiled at the stranger, the man with dark, dark eyes



He walks like a man

He talks like a man

He feels like a man

But he's not a man . . .



He awakened demons inside her, she didn't know she had

a prisoner of his gaze, this tall and strange nomad

Her friends would have warned her but none of them were around

she was taken without making a sound



She never watched the news, she was a stranger to this town



He walks like a man

He talks like a man

He smells like a man

but he is not a man . . .



He needs her eyes to see

he needs her lungs to breathe

he doesn't exist unless he's in her mind



He needs her heart to feel

he needs her tongue to taste

she didn't know this about his kind



He knew everything about her, plucked it from her eyes

he saw through her pretense and stripped away her disguise

He worked his way in now she's conquered from within

and he walks around in her skin



Now he walks like a man

He talks like a man

He looks like a man

but he's not a man . . .



words and music by J Franklin Evans

My tunes

If you will direct your gaze to the right you will now see where you can click to hear a few of my tunes. More convenient than ever! Give it a try!

Frustration, the nature of the Beast

You know, I've done the healthy living thing before.

I was a body-builder. I monitored my calories, proteins, carbs, all that. I took protein supplements. I worked out at the gym every day--cardio and free weights. My legs became incredibly strong. I had art students wanting to use me for a model. I was running--not jogging, running--three miles at a pop. My weight dropped to around 200 pounds--I lost almost 100.

All this was before my wrist problems. I couldn't work out for a while after my surgery and I fell out of the habit. I let myself go. I felt like I'd proven my point to myself.

This is my way of saying I'm experienced with all this. What I've never had to worry about before is my blood sugar.

Hence my frustration. It's at 199 now, which is high. I really haven't eaten anything that I haven't had before, when it scored in the normal range.

It's frustrating as hell. It seems if I eat anything other than raw vegetables it causes my blood sugar to go up. Right now I'm wondering why I even bother behaving myself. Am I just depriving myself of my favorite things for no purpose?

I have to say, though, that I do feel better. I can actually read, now--my eyes seem to be adjusting back to where they should be. For a while there it was really hard.

I do sleep a little better. I'm still losing weight.

Still, it seems that everything, and I mean everything, I eat gets converted to sugar. Goddammit.

Don't mind me. I'm feeling sorry for myself. I"ll get over it. I've still got some adjusting to do and I'll do it.

But, still, it's frustrating.

Warped Words - hardcopy

The softcover version of the book will be available in the next week or so--it's on Amazon now though. Just look to your left, and click. It'll haunt your dreams . . . especially the story "Cabin Fever." The author of that one is really good looking, too. and an extremely talented musician and recording artist. So I heard.

Ashes and Bone available for your pleasure

I just posted the title track from my "Ashes and Bone" song cycle. To hear it, you can go to my MySpace profile. Or to my artist profile on Facebook where you can download the MP3 for free, if you want. Please go check it out, let me know what you think!

The process

Recording a tune for me is a bit different from a lot of people.

For one thing, it's just me. I do everything, from the vocals to the drums and bass to the guitar work to the synth lines. Not to mention engineering, producing, composing, and all that. So, I don't have any other musicians to work with to lay down basic tracks to work with.

Most folks in my position begin by recording a drum-line. I usually don't. I usually begin with a basic rhythm guitar line, then add the bass line, then the drums. That process seems to work best with me. Then I add some more guitar tracks, some guitar fills, maybe a few synth tracks, then the lead guitar and the vocals, if there are any. I may go back and rework something if I figure out something that'll make it work better--I redid the bass-line on "Inside" late in the game and totally improved it, for example.

So, it's a bit weird for me that I"m starting with the drum-line for "Ashes and Bone". I don't have much choice--this tune is going to be drum-heavy, and there are sections where it'll just be drums and maybe the vocal.

I've done this before--starting with the drumline--but not for something that'll be as complicated as this one is shaping up to be. So, wish me luck! I'll be working on it today, in a little while.

I need a nap first. Even though I use my synth for the drums, I'm expecting to work up a sweat.

Ashes and Bone lyrics

It's no secret everyone says that I am kinda sleazy

but what you asked me to do when you died left me kinda queasy

You were worried after you were gone that you'd leave me all alone

With your last breath you whispered in my ear and then you were gone

Now I've got you in an urn that sits up on a shelf

Day and night with no-one around I use it to amuse myself

Every day at four o'clock you and I make tea

All this time I was inside you now you're getting inside of me

Ashes and bone

Hard as a stone

Every night about the usual time we head off to bed

We don't need to change our routine just because you are dead

I have to admit, I like it, almost as much as before

Though some of you gets into the sheets, and some of you on the floor

In the morning I find traces of you smeared across my face

on the counters, in the air, scattered all over the place

On the lampshade, on the clock, even on the stair

Other places I won't mention I'll let you figure out where

Ashes and bone

hard as a stone

leave me alone

with my ashes and bone

Ashes and bone

I'm not alone

not on my own

with my ashes and bone.

words and music by J Franklin Evans

The virtue of vices

I've started smoking again.

Before you get all righteously indignant on me, let me say that this is temporary. I know I can quit, and as soon as this pack is gone I will. Again. This will probably be Sunday. While it's no fun it's not really all that hard for me.

I need my cigarettes right now, to help me get over this major adjustment in my life. I can't eat much of anything that I liked before because of the diabetes and the high cholesterol. I can't drink because of the diabetes. Work has been tough. Real life has been tough, too, for a variety of reasons. I need some help to ease me into this weird place where my head is gonna have to remain for the rest of my life. And for the record the blood sugar is mostly under control, I've lost thirteen pounds so far, and I feel pretty good, physically, except for the usual aches and pains. So, it ain't like I'm not taking this crap seriously. I'm adjusting.

I've known people who, when they were feeling stressed, volunteered to help feed the homeless. Or worked out. Or read to the elderly. It helped them get perspective, to blow off steam, and to help others.

Something is wrong with those people. I mean, there's nothing wrong with that stuff per se, but if someone doesn't do something wrong when the going gets tough--maybe smoking tobacco or a joint before going to bed, or visiting a porn sight, or having a drink, or indulging in kinky sex with the siggoth--I don't trust them. I think people who don't have any vices are hiding something sinister. Something that would probably scare the crap out of me if I knew what it was.

I'm not talking about becoming a raging cocaine addict or a junkie or anything--I don't have much patience with those people. But having something to fall back on is comforting, especially if doesn't take over your life.

But, moderation, even in vices, is a virtue. Treasure your vices. Love them. They are what make us interesting.

Remembering Asimov

When I was a kid my mom would bring me books from the library.

She'd always get stuff from the science fiction/fantasy section, knowing that was what I preferred. She really didn't know anything about the genre though she found some real winners for me--I discovered Phillip K. Dick's wonderful novel A Scanner Darkly that way (and the film starring Keanu Reeves and Robert Downey, Jr., based on that book is worth seeing, btw), and that book became a favorite of hers, too. Also by pure chance found a couple books by Robert Coulson and Gene Deweese--Robert (Buck, that is) later on became a friend for a while, and I was totally unaware that I'd read a couple of his books. But that's another story. Sort of. That'll make sense in a little while.

I was really young at this time--around nine or so---and I didn't pay attention to authors. It just didn't occur to me. Except I figured out that I really enjoyed books written by this particular fellow with the funny name. Isaac Asimov.

So, he was the first author whose works I actually looked for. I found his books compelling, terribly interesting, eye-opening.

His books make lousy movies because most of the action is internal--there's just nothing to show except for people talking, or someone just thinking. So, Hollywood basically just uses the title without worrying about the story too much--witness I, Robot, for example. But damn! So well thought out, so well written. Especially his science fiction/mysteies. Couldn't get enough of them. And the Foundation Trilogy--man! Heady stuff! To me it was like an eight-course dinner at an expensive restaurant.

Asimov was also the first writer I ever wrote to. He responded to my letter with a thoughtful postcard that I treasured--still have it, somewhere. Over the years I wrote to him several times and he always took the time to respond. Very cool guy.

Then I discovered his non-fiction, especially his science books. He had a gift for explaining things. He'd start at the very beginning, which some people find irritating but I prefer. That way everyone starts on the same page. Read his book on black holes, for example. He starts with a very basic explanation of stars and takes you through it all until, when you get to the end, black holes make perfect sense. Genius. I do a lot of technical writing these days for my job and I use him as a role model.

He lent his name to a magazine that was, for a while, a showcase for new writers. He edited the letters section and he published a letter from me--which is how I met Buck, above, as he was one of those who wrote to me after reading it.

He died years ago--I don't have the heart to see exactly when it was. Even though I never met him in person I miss him terribly. The world needs his sane, patient, humorous outlook.

I love you, Dr. A. I hope the family you left behind is doing well.

"Homeworld" now available!

I know you've been waiting impatiently for the new song to become available. Well, the wait is over! You can go to my MySpace page, and click on it to give it a listen. I do want your opinion--this one is a little bit of a departure for me. It's a bit mellower and more introspective. So, let me know what you think!

Bird calls

Warning: this post is even more trivial than usual.

I love how some birds are named onomatopedically--like "Bob White" guail. Their call does sound like they're sort of chanting "Bob White?" Ditto Whip-o-wills--though after reading "The Dunwich Horror" whip-o-wills give me the heebie-jeebies.

So, I sort of give birds I hear nicknames. I have no idea what kind of birds they are--I rarely actually see them, just hear them--but here are some of the names I've given birds around here, based on their calls. Or what their calls sound like to me:

The "Go TEAM go TEAM go TEAM!" bird. The "Jaime Jaime Jaime!" bird. The "get UP!" bird. The Rusty Hinge bird--which I happen to know is a hummingbird.  The "divot divot divot!" bird. The "Ow, dammit!" bird.

I'm sure there are tons of others which will occur to me when I'm not sitting here typing. Feel free to contribute any you have.

Warped Words - the e-book edition

You can go ahead and order the anthology where my story "Cabin Fever" appears if you have a Kindle or whatever. Just click the icon to your left. Only six bucks! Convenient, cheap, and a pretty good read, too!

You can also visit the anthology's Facebook page. Be sure to click "Like." I'll admit there is some self-interest in this request--if we get a thousand likes by this Friday (October 29) each contributor gets an extra hard-cover copy.

Friday is also the publication date for the hardcopy version, unless something comes up. Last word I had everything was still on schedule but there's always something that comes up at the last second.

So, help me out. You'll be helping yourself out, too! If you like horror and suspense you'll dig it!

Warped Words--the Facebook page

A bit of shameless self=promotion here--this is a link to the Facebook page established for the book that'll contain my story, "Cabin Fever":

http://www.facebook.com/home.php?ref=home#!/pages/JournalStones-Warped-Words/155622811138558

Be sure to click "Like" while you're there. If you dig horror you'll like it.

Now, back to your regularly scheduled program.

Yeah, I know it's stupid

There is something that just drives me up the wall. It's stupid. One of those things that aggravates me beyond all reason and puts me in an especially foul mood for hours.

It's when I'm just walking in the freaking door after a long, stressfull day at work and the phone rings. As I'm walking in the door.

It's like people watch my house and when they see me get home they call. It happens all the damned time. Like I said, I know it's stupid. The caller--it's almost always a pollster or telemarketer--has no idea that I've just walked in the door and haven't even taken the key out of the lock in the front door yet. But, still, grrrr . . .

Part two to that is when I'm sitting down to eat. As soon as my butt hits the chair--phone rings. Makes me crazy.

Now, there are people who can call me any time they fell like it, and when I see their number on my caller ID it brings a big smile to my face, no matter what.

But for those others--trust me, it's better for you for me to let it roll over to my vox.

My new normal

My blood suger, as of now, is within normal range. 120. Above 145 is high--this morning it was 144, but that was after several hours of not eating anything. Getting it to 120 is an accomplishment.

I've been eating a lot more veggies, and cut down on the meat. I'm also not eating much rice, which is a sacrifice for me--I love rice. I also love Chinese food, but that's a no-no right now, too. Dammit.

And I'm able to see a little better, too. See to read, that is--for a while there it was really hard to focus on text. Everything is still a little blurry but it seems to be better. Doc says that's a combination of diabetes and getting old.

Also can't do bread, much, though I have some five-grain Italian I had with dinner tonight that's pretty healthy. Also using an vinegar and olive oil dressing, mostly because olive oil is good at lowering the bad cholesterol, another issue I'm having to contend with. It's also pretty tasty.

I like the vieggies, raw and steamed, but when that's all I can eat it gets a bit tiresome. I steamed up some for dinner, mixed in some diced chicken breast and the aforementioned salad dressing, and it wasn't bad at all. It had the added benefit of producing the blood sugar score, noted above. (If you're interested, veggies were brocolli, spinach, carrots, and some string beans. Along with a Vidalia onion. Drizzled with the dressing. I saved the water to use for cooking later--it'll make a nice broth upon which to base a soup of some kind, methinks.)

I'm seriously considering becoming a vegetarian, at least for now. I tried it once before, years ago, during my bodybuilding period--it was okay but I decided it was just too difficult. And if I go that route this time I won't be all that strict about it. I can't or I'll go nuts. But I'm not one of those people who requires meat with every meal.

Poor Atari is not digging this new diea at all. He likes rice as much as I do and I usually give him my leftovers, over his regular food. He'll get used to it--he was starting to get a little heavy anyway.

Plus I have lost some weight. Not sure how much--at this point it really doesn't show up on the scales, just the clothes. I can't keep my warmup pants up now. Heh.

Fortunately I know how to diet, and I have some clothes from my leaner days, and I may even start exersizing some when my weight gets down a bit lower. Who knows? In a few months I'll be a shadow of myself. And that's a good thing.

Godfatherhood

I'm godfather to a beautiful and amazing six year old girl.

Being a godfather, to me, is a big responsibility, and believe it or not I had been asked a couple of times before to be godfather to other children. I said no. It was because in one case I really didn't know the girl who asked all that well and I'm sure she thought I was Catholic. The other time it was because it just wouldn't have been a good idea.

This time was different, though. The friend who asked me is a close friend, someone who has been to war with me and stuck by me when nobody else would. Someone who doesn't just talk the talk when she decides she's your friend. Ain't many people like that out there anymore.

And the child she had is incredible---she's a miniature of her mom, just as smart, sassy, and funny. She's gonna break a lot of hearts as she gets older, without even meaning to.

Since she was born I've come to think of her as my own. I'll never have children myself, and she's really the closest to that I'll ever get.

They moved to Arizona a few years ago, and are now in California. Which means I don't get to see them very often. Still, I get updates. Goddaughter is getting into acting--she's already done a day on Men Of A Certain Age, and a Disney commercial, and she's getting more auditions all the time, too. She's also gotten paid for her gig on the TV show, which means that, at age six, she is officially a professional actress. Needless to say, I'm very proud of her, and I look forward to seeing her on TV.

She's come a long way from that bald, toothless baby that I taught how to give raspberrys. I actually have that on video.

Yes, I'm bragging. As I said, I'm very proud. I miss her and her mom terribly--hardly an hour goes by without something reminding me of one or both of them.

And I apologize for this ultimately pointless post--I just felt like talking about my (god)daughter.

Yeah, it pretty much sucks

I'm getting to that age where I frequently find messages on my vox from doctors. Never with good news, either.

I think my doctor has hired people to watch me eat and make a list of every tiny thing I enjoy, even a little bit, so he could tell me that I shouldn't eat it any more. At some point it gets ridiculous.

But, I'll stick with it, and eat my rabbit food, take my meds, watch my blood sugar, whatever. I need to get this surgery and I'd love to get it the hell over with!

I really need to start working on a couple of new tunes but I just can't seem to get motivated. I mean, I can hear these tunes in my head and they sound great, and I'm pretty sure I can make them sound like that when I actually record them, but it's hard to get motivated.

I also need to start writing stuff down for this TV series idea I have. I'll start putting it together in a little while--it'll be great, and different, and find an audience. If I can find a network or studio interested in producing it, that is!

In the mean time I'll crunch my granola and keep trying to see the bright side. It ain't easy.

Homeworld

Homeworld




I found her crying in the wilderness one day

I was tempted just to continue on my way

That's when I surprised myself I still had it inside

A continuing desire to do the best I can



Since that day she's been there, a constant reminder

of a world that could be but never was

the only thing missing from my life before

now that I have it everything else is gone.



Now that the sun is finally rising

at last a new day dawns

I can feel her slipping away

as the world is reborn



Everywhere I look there's a reminder

Of all I had before The End

A wife and kids and a home, all of gone

She the only thing left to me



I see her now with her new friends

I hear her laughing more than ever

Somehow it doesn't bother me, to know I'm losing her

I feel like my job is finally done



We work together to remake the world

Only better than it was

Not the world we had before The End

but one that is truly ours.



words and music by J Franklin Evans

Another "D" word . . . and randomocity

It's official, according to my doc. I'm diabetic.

So, now I can't eat anything that I like to eat. I'm giving myself glucose injections until my blood sugar gets under control. I got a 'fridge full of food I'm not supposed to eat.

All this so I can have some minor surgery. Joy.

Hopefully this will be cleared up really soon so I can get this cutting thing over with. My boss has been hinting darkly about changes coming up at work. Soon. Not good changes, either. I don't know if she's actually heard something or if this is just a gut feeling, but it does worry me. She's not one for rumor-mongering.

I'm also feeling the urge to write something, or record something, or both. I can't decide what I want to work on. I'd dearly love to write a story but no interesting ideas come to mind. I'd love to work on some more music but, ditto.

I guess I can do what I always do when I want to work on my music--pick up a guitar or turn on the synth and noodle around on it. Got some pretty decent riffs by accident that way.

It would take my mind off my hunger. I like garden salads but only as a side, not the main course, dammit! And right now that's about all I can eat. I'm sure I'll come up with some other stuff soon but right now I've got so much other crap going on that I can't concentrate on it.

Getting closer and closer to the publication date for Warped Worlds, the anthology from JournalStone, where my story will appear. At least I've got that to look forward to. I've read the whole book now, all the other stories, and I can't wait to see it in its final form.

Ever hear of a Dutch band called After Forever? They aren't together anymore-their lead singer, Floor Jansen, has a new band now called ReVamp--but they were pretty amazing. Floor has an incredible voice, powerful and versatile. Check 'em out!

Until next time! Stay frosty!

The "D" word

I've been hearing a lot lately about clinical depression, and how people who suffer from it are afraid to tell their doctor about it because of the stigmata that is still attached to people who suffer from it.

What I'm hearing has a lot of merit, and I'll out myself right here and say that I have a history of clinical depression--two hospitalizations for it, in fact, along with another one for a suicide attempt. And years of psychotherapy and intense self-reflection and stubborn determination to get over it have helped to create the shining example of humanity sitting here typing these words today.

Really, I know depression. Very well. I've been there. Maybe I don't experience it to the depths I felt before but it's still there and always will be. And I'll never forget the suffering I went through. For most of my life.

This to establish my bona fides, for the point I want to make.

There is another reason people who suffer from depression are reluctant to tell their doctor. It's because of the reaction they get from their doctor the second the "D" word is mentioned.

I made the mistake a few years ago of noting that I had a history of clinical depression on a medical history form when I went to see a hand specialist about the excruciating pain I was feeling in my left hand. It was getting worse daily--so much so, in fact, that the lightest touch on the fingers of that hand would result in my doubling up in pain for a good ten minutes, until the searing agony faded to just an extremely painful throbbing.

The doc fiddled and farted around with me for months--physical therapy, a couple of steroid injections, what have you. Nothing worked. It kept getting worse. Finally I begged the doc to do something--at that point amputation would have been acceptable. He decided to send me for a bone scan.

During the scan I could see my left hand lighting up in all the areas where I was having pain--which was pretty much the whole hand, by that point. Right hand, which was also on the scanner, was barely visible.

I go back to my doc and when he comes into the room he says, "Wow. I guess you really are in pain!" He then looked AT THE VERY FIRST X-RAY HE'D TAKEN OF MY HAND and saw the problem right away. We'd pissed away five or six months because he thought I was either a:) trying to get on workman's comp, b:) trying to score some opiates, or c:) both of the above. There was no d:) the pain actually has a physical cause, in the doc's mind, until I begged him to send me for a test to prove it, and he referred me for it just to shut me up. (For the record--problem was the radius--one of the bones in my forearm-was putting pressure on another bone, cutting off the blood flow. Surgery to shorten the radius relieved the problem. And no, I didn't slap the shit out of him for his condescending tone and the pointless pain he had me go through, though the only reason I didn't is because my slapping hand is my left hand.)

Why did he feel that way, you ask? Because I was stupid enough to indicate that I had a history of the "D" word. When a doc sees that checked on the medical history then the visit--no matter what you're there for--becomes about that. They don't even seem to consider that maybe you really are feeling unusually fatigued, or have a migraine, or an ear ache, or something like that. You become someone who is just desperate for attention, or who is self-medicating with prescription drugs, or who is just too sorry to get out bed and go to work.

I won't go into the arguments I've had with those guys who work in urgent care centers when I go because I have an ear ache, which happens to me every year or so. I'll just say that getting one of those guys to actually look in my ear is a struggle. Because they see that old "D" word indicated on my chart, and we all know that depressed people can't suffer from anything else besides the "D" word. You can't, say, have the "D" word and also experience cardiac arrest. Chest pains are just a "D" word sufferer's way of getting attention or medication.

Okay, I feel better now. That's about all I was hoping for.

Warped Words

If anybody's interested, you can preorder the book with my story at Good Reads. I've got an author's profile set up over there, too, if you should want to pay me a visit and leave a comment or whatever. Just search for "J. Franklin Evans" and you should be able to pull me up.

I've read the whole thing--lots of interesting stuff there. A good variety, something for every taste. As long as you have a taste for horror.

Anyways, take a look at it. Click "Order". If you dare . . .

Lions and vampires and zombies oh my!

Okay, when did zombies become such a big thing?

I mean, I quit reading fiction for a while, and now when I dive back in it seems every other horror story is about some plague that wipes out most of humanity, turning them into zombies, and the survivors have to fight them to survive . . . granted, it can make for a dramatic story but it's been done. It's sort of like a sports movie--there are really only so many plots to that one and they've all been fleshed out and done to death. Pardon the pun.

Don't misunderstand. I don't have a problem with it. I just don't get the fascination. People must be buying it or the films wouldn't get made and the books wouldn't get published otherwise.

It does seem to be an excuse for a really hairy-chested story with lots of explosions and gunfire and that sort of thing, which I can certainly understand. And I don't mean "hairy-chested" in the literal sense, as I know many of the films have women in the starring role--which is another thing I think is positive about this whole thing. Though I don't especially care for these things myself.


So, somebody out there explain that one to me. Why do you dig this sort of thing? I'm not asking you to defend yourself--you are perfectly entitled to dig it if you do--I just want to know why it's so appealing.

Friday morning randomocity

Made it through another week!

This is my week to stay late to cover the phones at work, so it's been a long one. Not an especially bad one, overall, but long.

We're about to begin a massive project, too, with a claustophobic deadline--so I'll be working  a lot of Saturdays over the next couple of months.

Though it's weird--I'm looking forward to it. I love those huge projects with deadlines and pressure. I guess I'm almost totally nuts.

I'm proofing the anthology where my story is set to appear--hopefully it'll be available by just before Halloween. I'll post details when they become available.

Medically I go back to the doc next week--my blood sugar was too high to have the surgery I need to have. So, I'm hoping to get that under control so I can get this over with.

Musically, I can't seem to decide, but I've been so busy lately I haven't had much time to think it over. I have some ideas but haven't had the chance to develop them.

So, this really ain't about nothin'. That's why it's called randomocity, I reckon. What's up with you?

Ok, explain this to me

So, I'm driving on I-16 yesterday, heading back to Savannah. It's early and there's not much traffic. I set my cruise control to right around 70 mph.

I gradually creep up behind this guy driving a Horizon who is apparently driving 69 1/2 mph. When I'm close enough I shift over to the left lane to pass. As I start to go around the other car--still without touching my gas pedal because the cruise control is on--dumbass speeds up.

So, I slow down, shift back into the right lane. What does dumbass do? Right. He slows down again. So, I get back over to pass and he does the same thing.

I up my speed to 75. Dumbass likewise speeds up but driving that fast scares him--he just can't bring himself to go any faster than that, and he loses his nerve after a quarter mile or so and I go around him, finally.

I leave the cruise control at 75 and continue crusing along, and what happens next but dumbass blows past me, changes lanes until he's in front of me again, and then slows down until he's back inside his comfort zone. We begin this stupid game again.

Now, I don't give two sh!ts if I get passed. I usually don't even notice. Just don't pass me, get in front of me, and slow the f#ck down.

This seems to happen to me a lot. Cars will be creeping along, oblivious to other cars blowing right by them. Until it's me--then they seem to feel like I'm posing a threat to their manhood and if I successfully pass them, their penis will withdraw into their bodies and they'll be forced to wear skirts and have sex with men for the rest of their lives--though this isn't always men. Once it was a little old lady.

Are you one of those people? If so, could you explain to me what the hell you're doing? I'd love to know.

Here's what's next!

Next project on my agenda is this TV show--an idea that sort of popped, full-blown, into my head about a week or so. I've got some minor details to work out but I think it's a great idea. In a little while I'm going to discuss it with a friend who knows a lot more about the industry than me and we'll see where we go from there. I may actually write a story or two set in the millieu first, just to kind of calibrate.

Musically I think I'm going to bring the Mythophobia song-cycle to a close. Those were all songs inspired in one way or another by the spec script I was working on. Since, at least for now, I'm done with that I think I'm done with the songs, too.

Next is another song-cycle I'm calling Ashes and Bone. No, these won't all be inspired by the TV series idea--that's not what I'm going to call it, for one--though I will include a tune that would serve as a theme-song of the new series. If it in fact becomes a new series. It'll still be a good song, in any case.

Medically, it's official. I'm old. Got to have some minor surgery, but not until my blood sugar gets under control. I'm supposed to have a full physical next week---who knows what undiscovered horrors lurk in my rapidly aging body? At least the prostate indignity is behind me for a year--already got that out of the way. And the problem I had is officially not cancer. There was only something like a 10% chance that it would be anyway, but it's good to be sure.

What am I listening to? Tristania's new CD, Rubicon. You really need to check it out. They are wonderful and thought provoking--lots of fodder there for a receptive imagination, looking for inspiration.

Wow. An exhausting but fun dream

So, in this dream there were only around 5,000 or so people left on earth. Don't ask me what happened to everyone else--all I knew is they were all dead. And it had happened a long time ago.

In my dream we were doing okay. We'd established a sane, orderly society. Crime was non-existant. We were rebuilding, taking pieces of the way we were that worked, discarding those that were harmful. It was actually not a bad way to live.

Until the aliens came. There were only two of them, but they were way more technologically advanced, and they were hostile. They'd come to wipe us out.

Don't ask me why. Also, don't ask why they didn't just wipe us out from space. They landed a few miles from our settlement and started preparing to march in, guns blazing.

Fortunately we had an ally--another alien, from a different species. Not as advanced but still more advanced than us. He shared some really nifty weapondry with us. Unfortunately he didn't have all that much--he only had three exoskeletons. For some weird reason I was one of the people selected to wear one of those things into the upcoming battle.

And when it started it was spectatular. Explosions, automatic weapons fire, all sorts of thing. We managed to kill one of the invaders soon but the other one was a lot tougher and smarter. To kill that one we lured it into a trap.

About three hundred people volunteered for a suicide mission. We tricked it into entering a building that was booby-trapped with an extremely powerful bomb by having those people in it. We figured it would never guess it was a trap because no way that many people would do something like that--especially since there were so few of us left in the first place. It thought it had found a refuge loaded with sitting ducks. Instead it found out that the afterlife is really like.

I woke up exhausted. But damn! That one was fun! If a little depressing.

It also contained the seeds of an idea for a TV series. I've been chewing on that for a few days now and the more I think about it the more I dig it.

So, what about you? Any interesting dreams?

Finally--some good news for a change!

It's been a hard week for yours truly up until now. A friend--a dear, beloved friend--is going through an incredibly hard time and there's not much I can do to help her. So, I worry and feel helpless and wish I could afford a plane ticket or at least had one of those ring transports like on Stargate SG-1.

But, at least for now, that's offset by the news I had waiting for me in my inbox today. Remember me saying I was entering my story into a contest and the editor had really nice things to say about it? Well, that story was selected to appear in an anthology. So, finally, at long last, I'm going to be a published author!

Here is the contest. My story is called "Cabin Fever." It's a horror story. Or is it? You'll have to read it yourself to find out. I will, of course, give details as to how you can get it, when they become available.

Yes, my prize will be simply a free copy of the book, and a discount for additional copies. But it's a book that will have my story in it. Mine. Along with stories from others, too, but mine will be in there!. The byline will say, "J Franklin Evans." There are no words for how this feels. Plus, if I do ever submit anything else for publication, it'll help to get my stuff read. Hopefully.

I'm so happy right now it scares me.

OK, now what?

So, I've done the rewrites on my spec script and sent it off to a friend who knows a lot more about screenwriting than me. She'll look it over and give me her feedback when she gets a chance--she's rather busy at the moment.

At this point I need input on it. I've read and reread it until I'm not actually seeing anything when I read it, except what I expect to see. I need somebody else to look it over with some detachment.

So, until I get her feedback, what do I do? I can't really make up my mind. I really need to be working on something or I'll go out of my mind.

I think my Mythophobia song cycle needs one or two more songs, and there's another song cycle I want to start after that--more on that later. Maybe I'll work on that now. Also have an idea for a story or short film--maybe that's next. All that still needs some development, though.

Now that I've actually written it down I think I'll work on the music for a while, get a few new tunes out. I've done a couple of tunes I'm extremely happy with lately--"Inside" and "Take My Breath"--and those took a lot out of me. I'm not kidding--I was exhausted after those. "Inside" is my "biggest" tune since "Necrotopia"--I don't think I've ever had that many tracks before. "Take My Breath" is just an intensely personal song for me, and that made recording it draining. But, as I said, I'm happy with both songs, and maybe now that it's been a little while I have built up the reserves necessary for me to do some more music. Click one of the links above if you want to hear those tunes, along with several others.

So, stay tuned! Let's see where I go next.

Memories and music

Does anyone else usually associate memories with whatever music was playing at the time?

Like, every time I hear Tool's "Sober", I get reminded of this girl I used to know. Not because of what the song was about but because she was a dancer and that was the song she was dancing to when I met her for the first time. We became close friends for a while after that. Life has separated us but I still miss her. She was one-of-a-kind, in a good way. Needless to say, this dark, moody classic by Tool brings a smile to my face, mystifying my friends who don't know about it. Cortney, if you're out there--drop me a line, okay?

Abba's "Dancing Queen." My best friend in the whole world loves this song and every time I hear it I get reminded very strongly of her--it's like the song is about her. I don't personally care for it, myself --only Abba tune I really dig is "Fernando", to be honest--but I like that song because it is such a powerful reminder to me of her. She lives in another universe these days but we keep in touch, and I usually shoot her an email or something when I hear that song.

Something really unpleasant and embarrassing happened to me

years ago while I was listening to Elton John's "Saturday Night's All Right (for Fighting)." I loved that song until then. Now, every time I hear it I think of cops. It's been many, many years but I still think of cops. It turned out not to be a big deal--a traffic ticket, really--but still, it was not a good thing.

So, what about you? What particularly powerful songs bring back powerful memories--pleasant or unpleasant?

Mid-week randomicity

It sucks to get old.

The down side--I have more doctor's appointments than usual. I need help keeping up with them. And they are for things that might--might--turn out to be serious. Also, I can't eat junk food like I used to without having to pay the price for it later. And really difficult to concentrate for more than a couple minutes at a time, when before I could focus on something for hours.

There are up sides, though--yeah, I'm fat, but I don't give a sh!t. I've never been much to look at anyways and in my old age I've finally accepted the fact that I'm ugly. Hell, I embrace my ugliness. It's a trademark. Oddly enough people seem to like me better now that I've stopped worrying about it.

Also, getting older means things that were a huge deal before are not such a big deal now. Like sex. It's been a while for me . . . a long while, we're getting near the decade mark at this writing . . . and it's simply not that big of a deal for me. I was having the occassional hookup before, which were fun for a little while, but they were with women who I could never see myself having anything long-term with. It would be nice to get laid every now and then, just to see if I still remember where everything is, but it would be even nicer if it were with someone who I'd want to stick around for a while. Just for a change. If I can't have that I think, at least for now, I'd rather just have nothing. I may feel differently if my dry spell continues, and it probably will, since I'm not actually out looking around anymore.

Speaking of love, what do you think of this article? It's from CNN.com and it's about how we sabatoge ourselves by dissing the people in our life when they attempt to demonstrate their love for us. I thought it was pretty much dead on--I saw myself in it, along with other people I know. Give it read, post your thoughts.

I'm still working on rewrites of my spec script. I'm happy with most of it, but there are a couple of little plot points that are really stupid. And some other things I think need to be adjusted. I'm going to wait until this weekend so I can rewrite the whole thing in one sitting--it'll give me a better idea as to how the whole thing flows that way. Instead of doing a few pages every day.


Right now I'm listening to Epica's Classical Conspiracy--a live album recorded with a full ochestra and chorus. Like their music was meant to be heard. You'll like it. Check it out!

Where were you?

I was standing in the lobby of the famous Lucas Theater in downtown Savannah. Tickets to Penn and Teller were to become available that day and I was buying three--one for me, one for my best friend, and one for her (then) boyfriend. The show was in January so this was sort of an xmas present to myself and to them. (The show, btw, was wonderful. We had a blast. See those guys if you get a chance.)

Everyone around me was acting funny. I was on vacation from work that week and I'd overslept and hadn't even turned on the TV that morning. I had no clue.

That is, until I turned around to see a TV set up in the lobby--I saw what looked like a passenger plane crash into one of the Twin Towers. It just flat-out didn't register with me when I saw it. My mind refused to accept it.

I finished my business and went home and finally turned on the TV to get the news. Then I got onto Internet and logged onto a forum I visited frequently and went into the chat room--a lot of my online friends were there. Most of them were at work and didn't have access to a television, so I was keeping them posted when something new came up.

At one point someone asked, "What about the hurricane?" I thought, "What hurricane?" Then I remembered there was one out in the Atlantic that had a chance to hit Savannah and I had been keeping a close eye on it up until then. I'd completely forgotten it. Fortunately when I checked my little spot was out of the possible path.

But it's a day that is impossible to forget--where I was, what I was doing, when I first found out about it.

How about you? Where were you when you heard? What were you doing?

Suffering

I was reading the book you see to your left--transcript of an interview by Bill Moyers of Joseph Campbell--and, as usual when I read Campbell, got my mind blown.

If you aren't familiar with Campbell, he was one of the world's foremost experts in mythology--its meaning, the common threads woven through myths from around the world and throughout time, and how they are still relevant in our daily lives.

Campbell always seems to provide food for thought. Many times when reading one of his books I'll encounter a paragraph or even just a sentence or two that will strike me as very profound, and lead to further thought outside of the context provided in the book itself. Many times he manages to add a missing piece to something I was working on.

Such was the case today, when I ran across the section where Moyers and Campbell talked about the significance of Christ's suffering on the cross in Christian mythology. Basically--and I'm terrible at explaining abstract concepts, I much prefer to demonstrate them in the context of a story or something--he said that the humanity in Christ and the deity became merged because of his suffering. That the yearning of god for man and man for god were unified in his agony.

For some reason I found that to be very profound, and I started thinking about love and suffering. It seems to me that love is not possible without pain, and the more deeply one loves, the more pain one feels. Also, the more pain one is willing to feel.

For example--I have a dear, dear friend who suffers from migraines, and another medical condition that causes her a great deal of pain. I love her, deeply and completely, and if I could I would take her pain away, even if it meant I had to experience it myself. I would not only do it, I would do it gladly--even as I felt the pain I would know it was pain that she was not feeling and my joy at giving her relief would offset any pain I felt. It's quite different from me experiencing my own pain--for example, the pain of this twisted ankle I've had for a week or so. That pain is personal and only involves me and I'd gladly get rid of it if I could--as long as getting rid of it didn't cause someone else to have to experience it. (Ankle's a lot better, btw, thanx for asking.)

This is, of course, really only part of it. Another part is the desire to consume and be consumed by the object of one's love. For example--imagine, if you worship some deity, that this deity is a sun, and its love for you is its heat. It's overpowering, inconceivable. It'll consume you. You'll experience intense agony while this happens. But it's an agony you crave, because while it consumes you, you are becoming one with it, experiencing its total and overwhelming love for you. Like a drop of water in an ocean--it merges and becomes mingled with the rest of the water until it is indistinguishible from all the other drops of water.

This is the missing piece for a story idea I've been struggling with for a while now. It fit into the hole in the puzzle with an almost audible click!

I do hope that makes some kind of sense---and if you were wondering, my atheism is still intact. It's just a fascinating and, I think, illuminating idea, especially when applied outside of the context of religion.

Anyway, if you haven't read Campbell I recommend you do so. He'll blow your mind, too.

"Take My Breath" now available

I just uploaded a new song, "Take My Breath," to the above links. If you go to my Facebook or iLike page you can download the free MP3! That's about as good as it can get! Anyway, click on over, check it out.