About a year ago I discovered Stavanger, Norway's Tristania. Out of curiosity I bought their (then) latest album, Illumination.
That album blew my mind and I soon had most of their back-catalog, too. Complex, layered music with haunting male and female vocals--theirs was the perfect sound. If I had the resources my stuff would sound a lot like that.
So, it was some trepidation that I waited this new one, Rubicon. Trepidation because the main reasons I love Tristania so much--the vocalists--were both gone. Would the new people be able to fill those enormous shoes?
I'd say, from listening to this one, that'd be a 'yes'. While the new vocalists don't have the same vocal style as the previous singers they are outstanding in their own right, and I feel like they will do fine when performing some of this band's classics live. Good news, because it would be a terrible thing to see Tristania live and not hear "Shadowman," or "The Ravens." (There is a video of the new lineup performing "Shadowman" and they do it quite well, so no worries on that score.) The new stuff takes Tristania's sound into a new direction without forsaking their roots--lots of stuff their long-time fans will dig here, and plenty to attract new ones.
Pete Johanson returns as a guest musician on a couple of tracks with his other-worldly violin solos. His work on "Amnesia" is particularly wonderful. He plays the violin the way a top-notch shredder plays guitar--musical but strange, haunting, surprising, evocative of another world. Much like Tristiania's music as a whole.
I give it a solid A. Which means you'll love it. Check out their other stuff, too, if you haven't already. Soon you'll have it all. You won't be able to help yourself.
Tuesday, August 31, 2010
Monday, August 30, 2010
Take My Breath
Most people never see her
the way I've always seen her
hardly anyone would know her
the way I do
She never shows her true colors
even with her friends around
with me there's no need for caution
caution or precaution
Now here she comes, the Queen of my Night
Finally coming to take my breath
Pulse quickening, blood thickening
her monster speaks to mine
fighting and bleeding, leaving and needing
closing time for the Id
Most people have never seen me
the way she's always seen me
hardly anyone would know
the way that she does
Now I come to her, the King of her Night
Finally coming around to take her breath.
words and music by J Franklin Evans
the way I've always seen her
hardly anyone would know her
the way I do
She never shows her true colors
even with her friends around
with me there's no need for caution
caution or precaution
Now here she comes, the Queen of my Night
Finally coming to take my breath
Pulse quickening, blood thickening
her monster speaks to mine
fighting and bleeding, leaving and needing
closing time for the Id
Most people have never seen me
the way she's always seen me
hardly anyone would know
the way that she does
Now I come to her, the King of her Night
Finally coming around to take her breath.
words and music by J Franklin Evans
Seared
Even a blind man could tell when she walked into a room
her heat signature unmistakable.
For her own good I told her she should stay away
Being a masochist, she stayed.
She says she learns a lot from the pain of knowing me
her suffering enriches her soul
I don't know what to tell her when she says things like that
I don't understand her, but she doesn't understand me
Every day is one day closer to the end of whatever we are
the final scene of the final act of this play
I need her to understand just this one thing
When I tell her to leave, I'm really begging her to stay
If agony is happiness then it needs a new name
Whatever it is, whatever it may be
Why take pleasure in this pain that we both need?
In the end it makes no difference to me.
words and music by J Franklin Evans
her heat signature unmistakable.
For her own good I told her she should stay away
Being a masochist, she stayed.
She says she learns a lot from the pain of knowing me
her suffering enriches her soul
I don't know what to tell her when she says things like that
I don't understand her, but she doesn't understand me
Every day is one day closer to the end of whatever we are
the final scene of the final act of this play
I need her to understand just this one thing
When I tell her to leave, I'm really begging her to stay
If agony is happiness then it needs a new name
Whatever it is, whatever it may be
Why take pleasure in this pain that we both need?
In the end it makes no difference to me.
words and music by J Franklin Evans
Sunday, August 29, 2010
Conversations with the opiate addicted . . . and etc. . .
Opiate addicts are like frogs. They have two-position attention switches. With frogs, everything falls into two categories--a:) flies, or b:) not flies. Addicts are like a:) drugs, or b:) not drugs. Stuff that falls into category a:) gets all of the attention. b:) stuff gets cursory attention, if any.
Which makes talking with one frustrating, as they will only half-listen to anything you say, and try to fake their way through it, since they have no clue what you're talking about--unless you're talking about drugs, that is. It can be quite fun, though, because the slow train of their one-track mind gets totally thrown out of whack if you interject a conversational curve-ball. Like, changing the subject right in the middle of a conversation. You can almost hear the mental brakes engaging, screeching, while he or she tries to remember what in the hell you were talking about three seconds ago. Since you weren't discussing drugs. Of course, that only lasts a few seconds, until he or she resumes thinking about how much he or she has stashed away, if he or she has enough money to cop, if he or she will be able to wait until the spouse is out before spiking again . . . then you throw them another curve ball and the screeching and crashing commences again. Quite amusing. Really, you have to laugh, because if you don't you'll get frustrated, and trust me, getting frustrated with a drug addict is like getting frustrated at the sky. There's no point.
(And to you drug addicts out there--we know. You may think you're really slick and nobody knows, but trust me--everyone knows. Just because we don't talk about it doesn't mean we don't know. It just means we've realized how pathetic you are and discussing it any further--with you, anyway--is pointless. Among your family and what's left of your friends it's a topic of endless conversation.)
I've been vacationing a bit from creative pursuits but I'm going to resume working on the screenplay later on today. Needed to take a deep mental breath before diving it--I'm coming up on the good part and once I start working on it I want to finish it ASAP. Also, got a basis for a story that my subconcious seems to be quite pleased with--I keep hearing self-satisfied chortling and chuckling down there but it hasn't seen fit to share with my id or whatever yet. Dammit.
That, I guess, is the cost of being creative. I'll live with it.
Which makes talking with one frustrating, as they will only half-listen to anything you say, and try to fake their way through it, since they have no clue what you're talking about--unless you're talking about drugs, that is. It can be quite fun, though, because the slow train of their one-track mind gets totally thrown out of whack if you interject a conversational curve-ball. Like, changing the subject right in the middle of a conversation. You can almost hear the mental brakes engaging, screeching, while he or she tries to remember what in the hell you were talking about three seconds ago. Since you weren't discussing drugs. Of course, that only lasts a few seconds, until he or she resumes thinking about how much he or she has stashed away, if he or she has enough money to cop, if he or she will be able to wait until the spouse is out before spiking again . . . then you throw them another curve ball and the screeching and crashing commences again. Quite amusing. Really, you have to laugh, because if you don't you'll get frustrated, and trust me, getting frustrated with a drug addict is like getting frustrated at the sky. There's no point.
(And to you drug addicts out there--we know. You may think you're really slick and nobody knows, but trust me--everyone knows. Just because we don't talk about it doesn't mean we don't know. It just means we've realized how pathetic you are and discussing it any further--with you, anyway--is pointless. Among your family and what's left of your friends it's a topic of endless conversation.)
I've been vacationing a bit from creative pursuits but I'm going to resume working on the screenplay later on today. Needed to take a deep mental breath before diving it--I'm coming up on the good part and once I start working on it I want to finish it ASAP. Also, got a basis for a story that my subconcious seems to be quite pleased with--I keep hearing self-satisfied chortling and chuckling down there but it hasn't seen fit to share with my id or whatever yet. Dammit.
That, I guess, is the cost of being creative. I'll live with it.
Thursday, August 26, 2010
Sex and the single coot
A recent discussion among my co-workers regarding my bachelorhood sort of got me to thinking about my solitary life and how I feel about dating, relationships, whatnot.
I haven't had anyone who could be considered a girlfriend in something like 15 years. I've had a few hookups but nothing serious. Really, after all this time, I'm not sure I want anything serious.
It'd be nice to have a hot babe I can call on to hookup every now and then--friends with priviledges, I guess you could call it--but I'm not sure how I would handle anything more serious than that. The thought is . . . weird for me. The thought of having to account for my whereabouts to someone, to have to include someone in my planning for the future, to have to convince someone of the wisdom of, say, buying another new guitar . . . it could get ugly.
Still, if the right one came along . . . I doubt it'll happen now, though. If it was gonna happen it would have already.
So, I'll spend my days and nights doing what I want, when I want. Yeah, I'm wild and crazy--when I'm not at work I'm at home watching TV or something, usually. I do have m hobbies but those involve me doing things at home, too. So I'm not big on going out anymore.
Anyways, that's how I feel about it.
I haven't had anyone who could be considered a girlfriend in something like 15 years. I've had a few hookups but nothing serious. Really, after all this time, I'm not sure I want anything serious.
It'd be nice to have a hot babe I can call on to hookup every now and then--friends with priviledges, I guess you could call it--but I'm not sure how I would handle anything more serious than that. The thought is . . . weird for me. The thought of having to account for my whereabouts to someone, to have to include someone in my planning for the future, to have to convince someone of the wisdom of, say, buying another new guitar . . . it could get ugly.
Still, if the right one came along . . . I doubt it'll happen now, though. If it was gonna happen it would have already.
So, I'll spend my days and nights doing what I want, when I want. Yeah, I'm wild and crazy--when I'm not at work I'm at home watching TV or something, usually. I do have m hobbies but those involve me doing things at home, too. So I'm not big on going out anymore.
Anyways, that's how I feel about it.
Monday, August 23, 2010
Lacuna Coil
Image via WikipediaAnd she is. She's also a terrific vocalist. Sort of like Madonna but with a much bigger voice.
But I love their music. It's a perfect combination of dreamy melodies, haunting and evocative, and hard driving metal.
It's perfect music to listen to while one is writing, be it fiction or screenplay or whatever. There's plenty for the imagination to work with there.
I highly recommend their music. Check it out!
Sunday, August 22, 2010
Now, the waiting begins . . .
I finally resubmitted the story I've been blogging about to this contest. This is the one I had to increase in size, from 1,200 words to 5,000 or so. I finally wound up with a word count of 5,500. Just clicked "send" a few minutes ago. We'll see if the editor loves it as much as he did originally.
As for "Inside," I've decided to do that one as a screenplay for a short film. I think it works better like that. I still need to work on the story, though. There's just something missing. (Again, if you haven't heard the tune you really need to--just click here and click "Inside". It's the first song on the track list. Feel free to listen to the other stuff that's there, too.)
And as for "Mythophobia," I'm going to dive back into that little world in a little while. I want to relax first. I'm just about to get into the really interesting part. To be honest it's a little intimidating, because I know that it'll be quite wonderful. If I can pull it off. If I don't it'll be . . . well, not so wonderful.
I just put a pot roast in the slow cooker to simmer for a while--should be done in about four more hours. Smells good. I'm thinking mashed potatoes to go with it.
I'm listening to Kamelot's Ghost Opera, a nice soundtrack for my current state of mind. Check them out. You'll dig them. And keep your fingers crossed for me!
As for "Inside," I've decided to do that one as a screenplay for a short film. I think it works better like that. I still need to work on the story, though. There's just something missing. (Again, if you haven't heard the tune you really need to--just click here and click "Inside". It's the first song on the track list. Feel free to listen to the other stuff that's there, too.)
And as for "Mythophobia," I'm going to dive back into that little world in a little while. I want to relax first. I'm just about to get into the really interesting part. To be honest it's a little intimidating, because I know that it'll be quite wonderful. If I can pull it off. If I don't it'll be . . . well, not so wonderful.
I just put a pot roast in the slow cooker to simmer for a while--should be done in about four more hours. Smells good. I'm thinking mashed potatoes to go with it.
I'm listening to Kamelot's Ghost Opera, a nice soundtrack for my current state of mind. Check them out. You'll dig them. And keep your fingers crossed for me!
Saturday, August 21, 2010
Okay, this is weird
I'm doing something I've never done before.
I'm rewriting a story to make it longer. Quite a bit longer. It originally weighed in at 1,200 words. I need it to be around 5,000 to 6,000 words.
It's for an editor who loved the original story, but has a requirement that submissions be at least 5,000 words. He wants me to add the additional wordage.
This is proving difficult. You can't just add scenes--they have to make sense, they have to help the story, and they must not diminish the impact of the ending. I think it's easier to trim something that's too long and to pump up something that's too short. Insert Freudian joke here.
I'm not complaining, mind you. It's so rare to get feedback from an editor that I'm more than happy to give it a shot, just in the hope of making him happy. Most editors these days don't read past the byline--if it's a name they don't recognize it gets trashed, if it's one they do, they send it on to get published. Which is why I just gave up a while back. Of course, this guy actually reads submissions, so I want to give him something to keep him busy. He's a rare bird and I want to hit him up before he becomes more like his peers.
In the mean time I'm listening to "Shallow Life" by one of my favorite bands, Lacuna Coil. Nice little soundtrack to assist me with my thinking. If you aren't familiar with these guys you need to check them out. Their music is sometimes haunting, sometimes hard-driving, sometimes a little silly, but always good at assisting one's imagination when one is trying one's best to create genius. Or, if not genius, at least something people will want to read.
I'm rewriting a story to make it longer. Quite a bit longer. It originally weighed in at 1,200 words. I need it to be around 5,000 to 6,000 words.
It's for an editor who loved the original story, but has a requirement that submissions be at least 5,000 words. He wants me to add the additional wordage.
This is proving difficult. You can't just add scenes--they have to make sense, they have to help the story, and they must not diminish the impact of the ending. I think it's easier to trim something that's too long and to pump up something that's too short. Insert Freudian joke here.
I'm not complaining, mind you. It's so rare to get feedback from an editor that I'm more than happy to give it a shot, just in the hope of making him happy. Most editors these days don't read past the byline--if it's a name they don't recognize it gets trashed, if it's one they do, they send it on to get published. Which is why I just gave up a while back. Of course, this guy actually reads submissions, so I want to give him something to keep him busy. He's a rare bird and I want to hit him up before he becomes more like his peers.
In the mean time I'm listening to "Shallow Life" by one of my favorite bands, Lacuna Coil. Nice little soundtrack to assist me with my thinking. If you aren't familiar with these guys you need to check them out. Their music is sometimes haunting, sometimes hard-driving, sometimes a little silly, but always good at assisting one's imagination when one is trying one's best to create genius. Or, if not genius, at least something people will want to read.
Friday, August 20, 2010
Another Friday randomocity
It's finally Friday.
Been a long week. At work we take turns working until 5:00, so that the phones are covered. For me it's 45 minutes later than my usual end-time. You wouldn't think a mere 45 minutes would make much difference, but man! It does! Throws my entire evening schedule out of whack. Fortunately that's over for a while after today.
Speaking of out-of-whack, I'm going to have to take another whack at the story I'm writing based on my song, "Inside." It's just not coming together like I want. It's missing something. I don't know what. It'll come to me, though--hopefully sooner rather than later. When it does it won't take long for me to finish writing it. Maybe.
Screenplay is still rocking along, though. I'm just over half-way into it. I should be working on the last section by the end of this weekend. Still got some gory murders to perform, some post-mortem mutilations . . . I'm pretty happy with it so far. About to get into what I consider to be the really interesting part.
It just occurred to me that I seem to be developing this obsession with horror. I've always dug it but normally I incline towards science fiction. Interesting. Of course I slanted that way in my music for a while now . . .
In real life I've got to find myself a doctor. That's another project for the weekend. I won't go into details--you don't want to know--but it's a problem I've had for a while now that finally needs to be checked out. Hopefully it won't be too serious. In my research I've found that it's something that'll kill me in a few months, or it's something really trivial. I'm pulling for the latter.
So, my weekend will consist of the usual--writing, relaxing as much as I can, practicing my guitar, maybe tracking a new tune, giving Atari his weekly bath, that sort of thing. In addition to looking on my insurance website for an in-network doc who is taking new patients. No end of fun!
What are you doing? Got any plans?
Been a long week. At work we take turns working until 5:00, so that the phones are covered. For me it's 45 minutes later than my usual end-time. You wouldn't think a mere 45 minutes would make much difference, but man! It does! Throws my entire evening schedule out of whack. Fortunately that's over for a while after today.
Speaking of out-of-whack, I'm going to have to take another whack at the story I'm writing based on my song, "Inside." It's just not coming together like I want. It's missing something. I don't know what. It'll come to me, though--hopefully sooner rather than later. When it does it won't take long for me to finish writing it. Maybe.
Screenplay is still rocking along, though. I'm just over half-way into it. I should be working on the last section by the end of this weekend. Still got some gory murders to perform, some post-mortem mutilations . . . I'm pretty happy with it so far. About to get into what I consider to be the really interesting part.
It just occurred to me that I seem to be developing this obsession with horror. I've always dug it but normally I incline towards science fiction. Interesting. Of course I slanted that way in my music for a while now . . .
In real life I've got to find myself a doctor. That's another project for the weekend. I won't go into details--you don't want to know--but it's a problem I've had for a while now that finally needs to be checked out. Hopefully it won't be too serious. In my research I've found that it's something that'll kill me in a few months, or it's something really trivial. I'm pulling for the latter.
So, my weekend will consist of the usual--writing, relaxing as much as I can, practicing my guitar, maybe tracking a new tune, giving Atari his weekly bath, that sort of thing. In addition to looking on my insurance website for an in-network doc who is taking new patients. No end of fun!
What are you doing? Got any plans?
Tuesday, August 17, 2010
A little dis, a little dat . . .
Okay, now that I've thought of an ending for my little story, "Inside," I guess I need to finish it. Which means I need to get busy. To be honest I'm writing this because I'm dawdling.
Right now, even as I type, my silly old dog is trying to bury a Milk Bone in the carpet.
![]()
Image via Wikipedia
I used to think that was funny--now I just think it's sad. Looking at him I see myself in a few short years.
So, I now have a spec script and this story to work on. Plus any new tunes that come to mind--and I've had some ideas in that area, too. I'm wondering if I'm becoming manic. If so that would be a first for me. A co-worker left a message on my vox--part of what she said was, "Boy, on your outgoing message you sound like you're dead!" Heh. It's a really old recording, too--it would probably sound a lot worse if I redid it now. I wonder if manic for me would be considered normal for most people . . .
Okay, Atari has finally worn himself out and is now lying on the floor next to me, relaxing. I'm glad--listening to that furious activity in the next room was making me tired.
Sorry. I'm rambling, sort of free-associating, in a way. I'm just tired. Excited about this story thing, really, but tired, too.
I'm also thinking about doing a screenplay based on this story. Now that way madness lies--a song, then a story, then a screenplay. Then comes the graphic novel. Then the one-act play. Then the sitcom . . . But I'm not obsessed or anything, no . . . this wonderful ending I thought of would be really hard to do right in a film, by the way. Bummer. It'll work great in prose, though, so no worries . . .
I do hope that you've click one of the above links to hear this tune, "Inside." You can click here to listen to it--it's the first song on the list. I'm very proud of it. Of course you can also listen to the other songs you'll find there, too. Let me know what you think. I need input, people!
Right now, even as I type, my silly old dog is trying to bury a Milk Bone in the carpet.
Image via WikipediaSo, I now have a spec script and this story to work on. Plus any new tunes that come to mind--and I've had some ideas in that area, too. I'm wondering if I'm becoming manic. If so that would be a first for me. A co-worker left a message on my vox--part of what she said was, "Boy, on your outgoing message you sound like you're dead!" Heh. It's a really old recording, too--it would probably sound a lot worse if I redid it now. I wonder if manic for me would be considered normal for most people . . .
Okay, Atari has finally worn himself out and is now lying on the floor next to me, relaxing. I'm glad--listening to that furious activity in the next room was making me tired.
Sorry. I'm rambling, sort of free-associating, in a way. I'm just tired. Excited about this story thing, really, but tired, too.
I'm also thinking about doing a screenplay based on this story. Now that way madness lies--a song, then a story, then a screenplay. Then comes the graphic novel. Then the one-act play. Then the sitcom . . . But I'm not obsessed or anything, no . . . this wonderful ending I thought of would be really hard to do right in a film, by the way. Bummer. It'll work great in prose, though, so no worries . . .
I do hope that you've click one of the above links to hear this tune, "Inside." You can click here to listen to it--it's the first song on the list. I'm very proud of it. Of course you can also listen to the other songs you'll find there, too. Let me know what you think. I need input, people!
Monday, August 16, 2010
Inside story
Below is the first part of a story I've been considering.
I don't write prose anymore. It's too frustrating, too heart-breaking. If you're unpublished it's become impossible to get anyone to even give your work a passing glance. However, I do know an editor who is holding a short story contest and he will at least look at stuff I send him. So, I wrote this fragment--I do have more in mind but I don't know at this point if I'm going to go further with it. I kinda dig it and think it's a good idea, but that's now . . . tomorrow I may feel differently.
So, look it over, and let me know what you think--should I finish it? It'll be around 6,000 words or so when I'm done, I reckon. Around 25 pages or so. Oh, and it's based on my own song, "Inside." Never written a story based on one of my own songs before.
INSIDE
by J. Franklin Evans
"I'm so sorry, Beth."
Renatta was old. The oldest woman Beth had ever seen, as far as she knew. She looked really bad, sitting there in her creaky chair. The darkness of the room, underneath the alley, didn't help.
"Sorry?" Beth asked. "You're sorry? I spent months looking for you. Every whisper. Every hint. About all people know about R'shaka is the name. Nobody knows what or who he is, only that you do. I was nearly killed more times than I can count. I was almost arrested, three times. I'm sure the cops are still looking for me. I was attacked. Nobody trusts me. I can't even cop now."
Renatta settled into an old chair, her walking stick across her lap. "I'm so sorry, Beth." she said again, her voice sounding more like a wheeze.
"I need him, Renatta. I have nothing left. Nothing. No family. No friends. No money."
"You've been using a long time now, haven't you?" Renatta said.
The sympathy, the understanding, the sadness in Renatta's voice caused Beth to weep uncontrollably for a long while. "I've got nothing, Renatta. Nothing. I may as well be dead. If you turn me away I will be dead. I have no other options."
"I’m so sorry, Beth." Renatta said for the third time.
"Why do you keep saying that? You're sorry for turning me away? For killing me?
"No." Renatta said. "I'm sorry, but you're perfect for us."
I don't write prose anymore. It's too frustrating, too heart-breaking. If you're unpublished it's become impossible to get anyone to even give your work a passing glance. However, I do know an editor who is holding a short story contest and he will at least look at stuff I send him. So, I wrote this fragment--I do have more in mind but I don't know at this point if I'm going to go further with it. I kinda dig it and think it's a good idea, but that's now . . . tomorrow I may feel differently.
So, look it over, and let me know what you think--should I finish it? It'll be around 6,000 words or so when I'm done, I reckon. Around 25 pages or so. Oh, and it's based on my own song, "Inside." Never written a story based on one of my own songs before.
INSIDE
by J. Franklin Evans
"I'm so sorry, Beth."
Renatta was old. The oldest woman Beth had ever seen, as far as she knew. She looked really bad, sitting there in her creaky chair. The darkness of the room, underneath the alley, didn't help.
"Sorry?" Beth asked. "You're sorry? I spent months looking for you. Every whisper. Every hint. About all people know about R'shaka is the name. Nobody knows what or who he is, only that you do. I was nearly killed more times than I can count. I was almost arrested, three times. I'm sure the cops are still looking for me. I was attacked. Nobody trusts me. I can't even cop now."
Renatta settled into an old chair, her walking stick across her lap. "I'm so sorry, Beth." she said again, her voice sounding more like a wheeze.
"I need him, Renatta. I have nothing left. Nothing. No family. No friends. No money."
"You've been using a long time now, haven't you?" Renatta said.
The sympathy, the understanding, the sadness in Renatta's voice caused Beth to weep uncontrollably for a long while. "I've got nothing, Renatta. Nothing. I may as well be dead. If you turn me away I will be dead. I have no other options."
"I’m so sorry, Beth." Renatta said for the third time.
"Why do you keep saying that? You're sorry for turning me away? For killing me?
"No." Renatta said. "I'm sorry, but you're perfect for us."
Sunday, August 15, 2010
Character Study: Gregory House, MD
I'll confess to being late to the party when it comes to the TV show House. I'm catching up now, and feel fairly confident that I've seen almost every episode. Finally.
Image via Wikipedia
Anyways, another secret to the show's success is making House such an interesting character. I'm sure you've noticed that House is the center of the Universe on the show--everyone kowtows to him or enables him in some way. He's a master at manipulation, at getting what he wants, and the second you give him what he wants, he changes what he wants to something else. You can't satisfy him.
Being a bit--just a bit mind you--narcassistic myself I can't help but dig that.
House, though, is up front about his flaws. He will admit that he's willing to lie to get what he wants, that he finds it difficult if not impossible to remain faithful to whoever he may be dating, and he has no qualms about using emotional manipulation to accompish a goal.
That, I think, is why I find him so fascinating. Having had to deal with a drug addict in my personal life on a couple of occassions (one of them long-term and unavoidable, unfortunately) I know how frustrating it can be, especially when the addict in question is in total denial about it and thinks nobody knows--when in fact everybody knows. House, though, will admit (if you aren't a cop) that he's a drug addict. He simply doesn't care. He's up front about it all and if you still insist on dealing with him, well, you have been warned.
Another plus--for me, anyway--is House and I seem to have pretty much the same taste in women. A stunning array of flat-out HOT women on that show, from series regular Lisa Edelstein to the various guest-stars (like Mira Sorveno) and semi-regulars. When the story drags I can at least enjoy the scenery.
So, now I'm hooked, and like House regarding his Vicodine jones, I'm not ashamed.
Image via WikipediaBeing a bit--just a bit mind you--narcassistic myself I can't help but dig that.
House, though, is up front about his flaws. He will admit that he's willing to lie to get what he wants, that he finds it difficult if not impossible to remain faithful to whoever he may be dating, and he has no qualms about using emotional manipulation to accompish a goal.
That, I think, is why I find him so fascinating. Having had to deal with a drug addict in my personal life on a couple of occassions (one of them long-term and unavoidable, unfortunately) I know how frustrating it can be, especially when the addict in question is in total denial about it and thinks nobody knows--when in fact everybody knows. House, though, will admit (if you aren't a cop) that he's a drug addict. He simply doesn't care. He's up front about it all and if you still insist on dealing with him, well, you have been warned.
Another plus--for me, anyway--is House and I seem to have pretty much the same taste in women. A stunning array of flat-out HOT women on that show, from series regular Lisa Edelstein to the various guest-stars (like Mira Sorveno) and semi-regulars. When the story drags I can at least enjoy the scenery.
So, now I'm hooked, and like House regarding his Vicodine jones, I'm not ashamed.
Friday, August 13, 2010
Friday morning randomocity
So, I was stretched out on the couch last night, watching TV, when bam! The lights went out.
I thought it was a power outage until I noticed that my air conditioner was still running. Open the breaker box--tripped breaker. Problem is, I can't untrip it--I try to turn it on or off and it just flips back to the middle position. Not good.
Last time this happened it was because of an exposed wire in the ceiling fan in the living room. I suspect that's the culprit this time, too.
Usually I can get stuff fixed here in a day or so, but the last time I reported an issue I had to deal with someone who apparently didn't know what she was doing and tried to cover her ass by lying about it. Drives me crazy. If you are new to a job and you don't know how to do something you should ask somebody, instead of telling people you are taking care of whatever and then not doing anything about it, because you don't want to admit you don't know what you are doing.
Here's a hint--when I ask you to do something and you say you'll do it, if you don't do it I will notice. And I'll let you know that I noticed. Or let your boss know. I'm not going to just let it go.
Sorry about that. I do go on and on about stuff that gets on my nerves, and I just can't let things go. It's not something I'm proud of, but it's also something that's kept me from repeating mistakes. I just don't forgive and forget. I may do the first part, but I don't do the second. I can't. I've tried.
Fortunately, the air conditioner is still working, and the lights in the back part of my apartment work, along with everything else (like the computer I'm using now). So, there are some things I can do.
Poor Atari, I believe, thinks he's done something wrong and I'm mad at him--he's following me everywhere I go. It won't help that I have to shut him up in the bedroom in the off chance the maintenance people should get the work order today. I mean, Atari's going to spend the whole day sleeping in the bedroom anyway, but when I close that door it seems to really bug him. I guess I'd feel the same way--there's a difference between not wanting to leave and being unable to leave.
If anybody's curious, spec script for Mythophobia is coming along. I'm maybe halfway through it. Still got some people to kill off. Things are just about to get frantic again, after a little time to cool off.
And I'm still pretty pleased with my newest tune, "Inside." It turned out almost exactly like I wanted it to. If you haven't heard it you can go here and click it to listen. It's the first song on the list. Feel free to listen to the others while you're there, too. Got some other new stuff and some stuff that's a couple of years old there. Let me know what you think!
I thought it was a power outage until I noticed that my air conditioner was still running. Open the breaker box--tripped breaker. Problem is, I can't untrip it--I try to turn it on or off and it just flips back to the middle position. Not good.
Last time this happened it was because of an exposed wire in the ceiling fan in the living room. I suspect that's the culprit this time, too.
Usually I can get stuff fixed here in a day or so, but the last time I reported an issue I had to deal with someone who apparently didn't know what she was doing and tried to cover her ass by lying about it. Drives me crazy. If you are new to a job and you don't know how to do something you should ask somebody, instead of telling people you are taking care of whatever and then not doing anything about it, because you don't want to admit you don't know what you are doing.
Here's a hint--when I ask you to do something and you say you'll do it, if you don't do it I will notice. And I'll let you know that I noticed. Or let your boss know. I'm not going to just let it go.
Sorry about that. I do go on and on about stuff that gets on my nerves, and I just can't let things go. It's not something I'm proud of, but it's also something that's kept me from repeating mistakes. I just don't forgive and forget. I may do the first part, but I don't do the second. I can't. I've tried.
Fortunately, the air conditioner is still working, and the lights in the back part of my apartment work, along with everything else (like the computer I'm using now). So, there are some things I can do.
Poor Atari, I believe, thinks he's done something wrong and I'm mad at him--he's following me everywhere I go. It won't help that I have to shut him up in the bedroom in the off chance the maintenance people should get the work order today. I mean, Atari's going to spend the whole day sleeping in the bedroom anyway, but when I close that door it seems to really bug him. I guess I'd feel the same way--there's a difference between not wanting to leave and being unable to leave.
If anybody's curious, spec script for Mythophobia is coming along. I'm maybe halfway through it. Still got some people to kill off. Things are just about to get frantic again, after a little time to cool off.
And I'm still pretty pleased with my newest tune, "Inside." It turned out almost exactly like I wanted it to. If you haven't heard it you can go here and click it to listen. It's the first song on the list. Feel free to listen to the others while you're there, too. Got some other new stuff and some stuff that's a couple of years old there. Let me know what you think!
Thursday, August 12, 2010
Lyrics--important or not?
Most people I know prefer a vocal with the music they listen to--instrumentals normally aren't all that popular. But I've often wondered how important are the lyrics to the songs people love?
Think about it--could you sit down and write out the lyrics to your favorite tune? Really, I mean--not guessing at some words. And, really, what is your favorite tune about, anyways?
I know I can't do that. Hell, there are a ton of songs out there I just love and I have no earthly idea what they are about or even what most of the lyrics are. I just dig the tune, and the vocal, the musical tension and drama that develops along the course of a really good tune. Often I can't understand the vocal, but it still helps. And don't even ask me what a song is about--nine times out of ten I have no idea, even if I do know the lyrics, unless it's one of those "I'll love you forever" things that I don't usually go for.
Still, I obsess over the lyrics to my own tunes. I try to make them interesting in some way--I'm listening to "Inside" now and I'm pretty proud of those words, and how the song in general turned out. But I spent a lot of time on those lyrics.
But, if someone else had recorded that song, I don't think I would care what the lyrics are.I think it's dark, powerful, with a throbbing, driving beat that I love, and the lyrics would be academic. Sure, since I wrote it I know what it's about--but I wouldn't if someone else had.
What do you think? How important are the lyrics of a song to you?
Think about it--could you sit down and write out the lyrics to your favorite tune? Really, I mean--not guessing at some words. And, really, what is your favorite tune about, anyways?
I know I can't do that. Hell, there are a ton of songs out there I just love and I have no earthly idea what they are about or even what most of the lyrics are. I just dig the tune, and the vocal, the musical tension and drama that develops along the course of a really good tune. Often I can't understand the vocal, but it still helps. And don't even ask me what a song is about--nine times out of ten I have no idea, even if I do know the lyrics, unless it's one of those "I'll love you forever" things that I don't usually go for.
Still, I obsess over the lyrics to my own tunes. I try to make them interesting in some way--I'm listening to "Inside" now and I'm pretty proud of those words, and how the song in general turned out. But I spent a lot of time on those lyrics.
But, if someone else had recorded that song, I don't think I would care what the lyrics are.I think it's dark, powerful, with a throbbing, driving beat that I love, and the lyrics would be academic. Sure, since I wrote it I know what it's about--but I wouldn't if someone else had.
What do you think? How important are the lyrics of a song to you?
Wednesday, August 11, 2010
A touch of grey
How do you feel about grey hair? Or a grey beard?
Personally I don't get the panic people feel when they see that first grey hair. I kinda dug it. I think a lot of people do. To me it's quite attractive.
A few years ago I went to see Emmylou Harris give a free concert in Forsyth Park. Now, I'm not a big Emmylou fan, but she's okay, and it was free, and I had nothing else planned, so I went. I've always thought she was hot, which was another incentive.
Anyways, her trademark long black hair was instead long salt-and-pepper hair. Lots of grey there. And it was sexy as hell. Good show, too--I had fun except for the idiots who insisted on standing in my line-of-sight instead of stretching out on the ground like us normal people. That was irritating.
When I have hair it's got a lot of grey in it. Plus, my beard has a patch of grey, cocked to one side. I think it looks cool.
Maybe I'm weird. Hell, I am weird, but I think in this I'm with most people. Or at least a significant minority.
Just curious. What do you think?
Personally I don't get the panic people feel when they see that first grey hair. I kinda dug it. I think a lot of people do. To me it's quite attractive.
A few years ago I went to see Emmylou Harris give a free concert in Forsyth Park. Now, I'm not a big Emmylou fan, but she's okay, and it was free, and I had nothing else planned, so I went. I've always thought she was hot, which was another incentive.
Anyways, her trademark long black hair was instead long salt-and-pepper hair. Lots of grey there. And it was sexy as hell. Good show, too--I had fun except for the idiots who insisted on standing in my line-of-sight instead of stretching out on the ground like us normal people. That was irritating.
When I have hair it's got a lot of grey in it. Plus, my beard has a patch of grey, cocked to one side. I think it looks cool.
Maybe I'm weird. Hell, I am weird, but I think in this I'm with most people. Or at least a significant minority.
Just curious. What do you think?
Tuesday, August 10, 2010
Things I just can't handle
I can't watch a movie or TV show where a child--especially an infant or toddler--is harmed or abused. I just can't take it.
I know it's not real. I know it's a work of fiction and any resemblance to any persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental. But, deep down in my unreasonable and overactive subconcious, it seems real.
It's worse if it actually did happen--like on CNN. Stories about horrible things that happen to children in this world haunt me.
All this means there are several films I just can't bring myself to watch. Don't get me wrong--if you dig films where that sort of thing happens, and you can watch them, then good. I don't cast aspersions on you. It's just something that I personally can't handle. I'm not talking about that sick, twisted porno that some monsters like to watch--I'm talking TV shows like Law and Order: SVU.
Next thing, though, is animals. I'm the same way about those, dogs in particular. And in American cinema, if a dog is a major part of a film, he's gonna be dead before the end. Not something I care to see, thank you.
I guess I'm turning into a big ol' wimp in my old age.
I know it's not real. I know it's a work of fiction and any resemblance to any persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental. But, deep down in my unreasonable and overactive subconcious, it seems real.
It's worse if it actually did happen--like on CNN. Stories about horrible things that happen to children in this world haunt me.
All this means there are several films I just can't bring myself to watch. Don't get me wrong--if you dig films where that sort of thing happens, and you can watch them, then good. I don't cast aspersions on you. It's just something that I personally can't handle. I'm not talking about that sick, twisted porno that some monsters like to watch--I'm talking TV shows like Law and Order: SVU.
Next thing, though, is animals. I'm the same way about those, dogs in particular. And in American cinema, if a dog is a major part of a film, he's gonna be dead before the end. Not something I care to see, thank you.
I guess I'm turning into a big ol' wimp in my old age.
Sunday, August 8, 2010
"Inside" now available
I just uploaded my new tune, "Inside." You can visit one of the links above to hear it, or just click here.
I'm quite proud of it. It's pretty bombastic and loud and dark. All things I look for. Anyways, click on over, give it a listen, let me know what you think! Feel free to listen to my other stuff that's there, too.
I'm quite proud of it. It's pretty bombastic and loud and dark. All things I look for. Anyways, click on over, give it a listen, let me know what you think! Feel free to listen to my other stuff that's there, too.
Saturday, August 7, 2010
Redshift, Blueshift . . .
I wrote a story by that title a long time ago and I've been thinking about the ethical dilema it posed. I thought I'd bring it up here so maybe we can have a little discussion about it.
The basic premise of the story--it was science fiction--is that the narrator of the story figures out a way to end a long and bloody war with an alien race. Unfortunately, his way of ending the war will result in over a hundred million human casualties. But, afterwards, the war will be over. It had been going on for years with neither side getting an advantage and with the sheer power of the attacks growing and no chance of it ever coming to an end, until this happens.
It's kind of complicated, what happens in the story--basically he figures out that we had been attacking ourselves because we were using a technology we didn't totally understand. Ships we sent to attack the enemy were actually being sent back a few months in time, and everything was so distorted that they didn't know they were attacking earth--and we didn't realize it was our own ships. The commander of a powerful fleet sent to avenge a devastating attack figures it out--it was his ships that came and wiped out all those people and created all that destruction.
Unfortunately, if he aborts his attack then someone else will. The nature of time travel--in this story, anyway--the attack happened, so it will happen. If he doesn't do it, then someone else will, and it's entirely possible that it'll be an alien race that will sort of pop up to fill the void that gets created when he aborts. So, if he continues he'll kill all those people, but since he has the evidence now to prove this is what's happening, the war will be over. If he doesn't, then it'll be out of anyone's control and the war can continue until humanity is wiped out totally. He'll basically be creating an enemy--one that it will turn out has always existed.
He goes through with it. The story is both about the attack, and the after math, where the military decides what to do with him--is he a hero or not?
Here's the question, though--what would you do, in that situation? Think about it, and let me know. I'm curious.
The basic premise of the story--it was science fiction--is that the narrator of the story figures out a way to end a long and bloody war with an alien race. Unfortunately, his way of ending the war will result in over a hundred million human casualties. But, afterwards, the war will be over. It had been going on for years with neither side getting an advantage and with the sheer power of the attacks growing and no chance of it ever coming to an end, until this happens.
It's kind of complicated, what happens in the story--basically he figures out that we had been attacking ourselves because we were using a technology we didn't totally understand. Ships we sent to attack the enemy were actually being sent back a few months in time, and everything was so distorted that they didn't know they were attacking earth--and we didn't realize it was our own ships. The commander of a powerful fleet sent to avenge a devastating attack figures it out--it was his ships that came and wiped out all those people and created all that destruction.
Unfortunately, if he aborts his attack then someone else will. The nature of time travel--in this story, anyway--the attack happened, so it will happen. If he doesn't do it, then someone else will, and it's entirely possible that it'll be an alien race that will sort of pop up to fill the void that gets created when he aborts. So, if he continues he'll kill all those people, but since he has the evidence now to prove this is what's happening, the war will be over. If he doesn't, then it'll be out of anyone's control and the war can continue until humanity is wiped out totally. He'll basically be creating an enemy--one that it will turn out has always existed.
He goes through with it. The story is both about the attack, and the after math, where the military decides what to do with him--is he a hero or not?
Here's the question, though--what would you do, in that situation? Think about it, and let me know. I'm curious.
Friday, August 6, 2010
Updates and whatnot
So, this is my final day of vacation.
Of course I also get the weekend, but I guess that doesn't really count. Though I'll be busy working on my projects, nonetheless.
Speaking of projects, this is where I am:
Laid down the rhythm tracks for a new tune, "Inside," (see previous posting for lyrics). I'm very happy with what I have so far. So far it's shaping up to be something special.
Got about half the cast in this spec script I'm working on killed off now. Most of the rest will be shuffling off this mortal coil soon.
Also, at the suggestion of a friend I sent a story to a small press editor who is putting together a horror anthology and wanted some entries--even though my story is too short he let me submit it anyway. He did like it, a lot, apparently, and suggested I expand it to meet his length requirements. I may do that, I don't know yet. Always good to get positive feedback, especially from an editor and a published author. So, that's encouraging.
So, next up on the tune--some synth lines and some guitars. Got to track a guitar solo. Fills and whatnot. Then, last of all, the vocals. I hope to be done with it by next weekend, but we'll see. I may finish sooner. Or later. Depends on what else happens. Going back to work after being off a week will be a challenge--I know I'll have all kinds of catching up to do. It may leave me too worn out to do much when I get home, for a couple days.
As for the weekend, nothing special planned. Gonna continue working on my projects. Giving Atari a bath. Buying some groceries. Watching some TV--I went DVD shopping yesterday and got season one of Warehouse 13, the film Let The Right One In (haven't seen it yet--I plan to screen it tomorrow), and a disk that had four really awful horror movies on it. For inspiration, don't you know.
How about you? Any weekend plans?
Of course I also get the weekend, but I guess that doesn't really count. Though I'll be busy working on my projects, nonetheless.
Speaking of projects, this is where I am:
Laid down the rhythm tracks for a new tune, "Inside," (see previous posting for lyrics). I'm very happy with what I have so far. So far it's shaping up to be something special.
Got about half the cast in this spec script I'm working on killed off now. Most of the rest will be shuffling off this mortal coil soon.
Also, at the suggestion of a friend I sent a story to a small press editor who is putting together a horror anthology and wanted some entries--even though my story is too short he let me submit it anyway. He did like it, a lot, apparently, and suggested I expand it to meet his length requirements. I may do that, I don't know yet. Always good to get positive feedback, especially from an editor and a published author. So, that's encouraging.
So, next up on the tune--some synth lines and some guitars. Got to track a guitar solo. Fills and whatnot. Then, last of all, the vocals. I hope to be done with it by next weekend, but we'll see. I may finish sooner. Or later. Depends on what else happens. Going back to work after being off a week will be a challenge--I know I'll have all kinds of catching up to do. It may leave me too worn out to do much when I get home, for a couple days.
As for the weekend, nothing special planned. Gonna continue working on my projects. Giving Atari a bath. Buying some groceries. Watching some TV--I went DVD shopping yesterday and got season one of Warehouse 13, the film Let The Right One In (haven't seen it yet--I plan to screen it tomorrow), and a disk that had four really awful horror movies on it. For inspiration, don't you know.
How about you? Any weekend plans?
Thursday, August 5, 2010
Baldy again
Let's get the subject of my hair out of the way, now and forever, okay?
I just had my head shaved again. That's what I do--I let it grow out and when it starts getting on my nerves, I go and get it shaved off.
I hate getting haircuts. Always have. Only haircuts I ever enjoyed were the ones my friend Cortney used to give me, but that was because she was a good friend and we always had a lot of stuff to talk about. She's gone now--we sort of lost touch a few years ago.
But, anyway, I hate getting haircuts. I always feel like I'm wasting so much time just sitting there. It's awkward for me--I feel like I should be talking to the person cutting my hair, but I don't really know what to say. Three things made me decide that from now on I was just going to get my head shaved:
The way I see it, it really doesn't matter. I am going to be fat and ugly, hair or no hair. So it really doesn't make a difference, from an aesthetic point-of-view.
I do notice some differences in the way others act around me, though. Women are normally just skittish around me before--now they out-and-out bolt. People go from thinking I might be a serial killer to thinking I am most definitely a serial killer. Criminals think I'm a cop. Cops think I'm a criminal.
All-in-all it makes things interesting. I could use a little of that, I think.
I just had my head shaved again. That's what I do--I let it grow out and when it starts getting on my nerves, I go and get it shaved off.
I hate getting haircuts. Always have. Only haircuts I ever enjoyed were the ones my friend Cortney used to give me, but that was because she was a good friend and we always had a lot of stuff to talk about. She's gone now--we sort of lost touch a few years ago.
But, anyway, I hate getting haircuts. I always feel like I'm wasting so much time just sitting there. It's awkward for me--I feel like I should be talking to the person cutting my hair, but I don't really know what to say. Three things made me decide that from now on I was just going to get my head shaved:
- In the men's room at work one day I encountered a colleague in the terminal stages of comb-over, standing in front of the mirror and carefully rearranging those last four really long strands of hair for maximum coverage. Gods. Just kill me.
- As I was leaving after getting a regular hair cut--where I'd told my stylist I wanted it cut short--my hair fell down into my eyes. Which is what it was doing before I got my hair cut. She cut it short, all right--on the sides. She didn't cut anything off the top. Apparently that's "the style" these days--which explains why nobody reads anymore. They can't see the text. They have their hair in their eyes.
- The young lady who I always go to for the head shaving is really really cute.
The way I see it, it really doesn't matter. I am going to be fat and ugly, hair or no hair. So it really doesn't make a difference, from an aesthetic point-of-view.
I do notice some differences in the way others act around me, though. Women are normally just skittish around me before--now they out-and-out bolt. People go from thinking I might be a serial killer to thinking I am most definitely a serial killer. Criminals think I'm a cop. Cops think I'm a criminal.
All-in-all it makes things interesting. I could use a little of that, I think.
Wednesday, August 4, 2010
An open love letter to my addiction
I can't describe it. Really.
A few years ago I recorded a cover of the Beatles' "Let It Be," using a digital eight-track recorder, an electronic drum kit, and my (then) brand new Gibson SG guitar. I just wanted to practice guitar soloing and had an idea for something for that song. I also liked the idea of attempting the vocal.
When I finally finished mixing it and listened to the finished product, I was stunned at how I felt. No, I wouldn't say it's better than the original. But I thought--and still think--that it was pretty good, especially since it was the first time I'd ever done anything like that. No, you won't find it online anywhere because of copyright issues--there's only a couple of people besides me who have ever heard it--but I listen to it now and then.
But I was astonished at the rush I got, listening to it. Burning it to CD, listening to myself through a stereo. Hearing it in my car. Me. That's me, singing that song, playing that guitar, that piano, nailing that guitar solo. Maybe it's not great, but it's me. Silly? Probably. But I don't care.
The feeling was intensifyed when I recorded this little instrumental I made up myself--"Hail, Anubis," using my (then) brand new Ibanez Iceman guitar, which I named Anubis, natch. It came out sounding exactly like it did in my head. There is no way on earth I can describe the feeling I got, listening to that thing.
Since then I've written and recorded a lot more stuff. Some of it I'm really happy with and hope you'll indulge if you haven't. In fact, some of it I'm extremely happy with (check out "Necrotopia", "Beast of Love", "On The Slab" just for starters). I listen to my own stuff all the time and I still get that feeling, every time. It still gets me off when I listen to my solo on "Ready" or "On The Slab" or the dark humor of "Beast of Love" or the power of my Gibson SG on the rhythm track of "Contact." I always relive the sweet sorrow I was feeling when I recorded the solo for "Contagion." It doesn't lessen. I don't need higher dosages as time goes by.
Which makes music a much better drug of choice than . . . well, anything. Don't you agree?
A few years ago I recorded a cover of the Beatles' "Let It Be," using a digital eight-track recorder, an electronic drum kit, and my (then) brand new Gibson SG guitar. I just wanted to practice guitar soloing and had an idea for something for that song. I also liked the idea of attempting the vocal.
When I finally finished mixing it and listened to the finished product, I was stunned at how I felt. No, I wouldn't say it's better than the original. But I thought--and still think--that it was pretty good, especially since it was the first time I'd ever done anything like that. No, you won't find it online anywhere because of copyright issues--there's only a couple of people besides me who have ever heard it--but I listen to it now and then.
But I was astonished at the rush I got, listening to it. Burning it to CD, listening to myself through a stereo. Hearing it in my car. Me. That's me, singing that song, playing that guitar, that piano, nailing that guitar solo. Maybe it's not great, but it's me. Silly? Probably. But I don't care.
The feeling was intensifyed when I recorded this little instrumental I made up myself--"Hail, Anubis," using my (then) brand new Ibanez Iceman guitar, which I named Anubis, natch. It came out sounding exactly like it did in my head. There is no way on earth I can describe the feeling I got, listening to that thing.
Since then I've written and recorded a lot more stuff. Some of it I'm really happy with and hope you'll indulge if you haven't. In fact, some of it I'm extremely happy with (check out "Necrotopia", "Beast of Love", "On The Slab" just for starters). I listen to my own stuff all the time and I still get that feeling, every time. It still gets me off when I listen to my solo on "Ready" or "On The Slab" or the dark humor of "Beast of Love" or the power of my Gibson SG on the rhythm track of "Contact." I always relive the sweet sorrow I was feeling when I recorded the solo for "Contagion." It doesn't lessen. I don't need higher dosages as time goes by.
Which makes music a much better drug of choice than . . . well, anything. Don't you agree?
Vacation--the halfway point
So, today my stay-cation is half over.
I always take stay-cations. I rarely go anywhere. There are a couple of reasons for this:
Usually I have projects I want to work on while I'm on vacation. This time it's a spec script--I have an idea where I'd like to be by the end of this coming weekend. Maybe I'll be there.
I'd also like to get at least one new song posted but I'm not so sure about that one. The one I want to do is going to be a little dicey--it's "Inside," lyrics posted here yesterday. It'll be really good, if I can make it come out like the version I hear in my head, but it'll take some work to get it right. It's a bit tricky because it's just me--sometimes it poses technical difficulties, let's say.
That friend I visited in Vegas a few years ago has started a production company with her partner, and they are working on producing a short film. However, they need help with it, and by that I mean financial help. Yes, I've donated, as have others, but it's not enough. You can click the widget in the upper right if you want to help them out yourself. Or just go to http://www.dracoequus.com/ and click "Donate." No amount is too small. The film they want to do would be wonderful--the story is charming and will make a splendid film. But if they don't get the money it won't get made. Which would be tragic. The project is called Hearts on the Knee.
So, help my friends out, keep your fingers crossed that I reach my goal and also get this tune recorded. I hope your own week is progressing well and you're getting a chance to have some fun!
I always take stay-cations. I rarely go anywhere. There are a couple of reasons for this:
- I don't really have the funding to go anywhere.
- I hate to travel.
Usually I have projects I want to work on while I'm on vacation. This time it's a spec script--I have an idea where I'd like to be by the end of this coming weekend. Maybe I'll be there.
I'd also like to get at least one new song posted but I'm not so sure about that one. The one I want to do is going to be a little dicey--it's "Inside," lyrics posted here yesterday. It'll be really good, if I can make it come out like the version I hear in my head, but it'll take some work to get it right. It's a bit tricky because it's just me--sometimes it poses technical difficulties, let's say.
That friend I visited in Vegas a few years ago has started a production company with her partner, and they are working on producing a short film. However, they need help with it, and by that I mean financial help. Yes, I've donated, as have others, but it's not enough. You can click the widget in the upper right if you want to help them out yourself. Or just go to http://www.dracoequus.com/ and click "Donate." No amount is too small. The film they want to do would be wonderful--the story is charming and will make a splendid film. But if they don't get the money it won't get made. Which would be tragic. The project is called Hearts on the Knee.
So, help my friends out, keep your fingers crossed that I reach my goal and also get this tune recorded. I hope your own week is progressing well and you're getting a chance to have some fun!
Tuesday, August 3, 2010
Inside
The world sent you to me not long ago
and you took me inside
fresh meat for the street you were
and look at you now
Not much left of you to chew on
soon I'll need a new place to hide
someone desperate and full of despair
someone fresh to take the vow
Soon you'll finally be free
(no more pain or nightmares)
soon you'll finally see
(no more lies just the truth and nothing but)
soon you'll get what's happened to you
(are you ready for this?)
soon you'll see what you have now become.
Don't call your friends you have none now
and you have nothing left to sell
nobody cares what's become of you
nobody cares that you're living in hell
Now you're finally free
(no more pain no more nightmares)
You can go your own way
(plain unvarnished truth you finally see)
Where there's life, there's hope, they always say
(one foot in front of the other walking away)
Now you'll see if that's true.
words and music by J Franklin Evans
and you took me inside
fresh meat for the street you were
and look at you now
Not much left of you to chew on
soon I'll need a new place to hide
someone desperate and full of despair
someone fresh to take the vow
Soon you'll finally be free
(no more pain or nightmares)
soon you'll finally see
(no more lies just the truth and nothing but)
soon you'll get what's happened to you
(are you ready for this?)
soon you'll see what you have now become.
Don't call your friends you have none now
and you have nothing left to sell
nobody cares what's become of you
nobody cares that you're living in hell
Now you're finally free
(no more pain no more nightmares)
You can go your own way
(plain unvarnished truth you finally see)
Where there's life, there's hope, they always say
(one foot in front of the other walking away)
Now you'll see if that's true.
words and music by J Franklin Evans
A Return to Malachi
He never said he needed anyone
Self-contained, an island to himself
Cold and hard as a stone
He could always find his own way
She found her way inside
past all his defenses
she took up residence in his mind
and now she rules his world
He would die before he'll admit it
He doesn't want it any other way
For a brief time, too brief, they were together
Fate and a monster then ripped them apart
He defied his fear to find her again
In a fortress at the end of time
Horrors and horrors he found
at the end of his journey
worst of all, he soon discovered
what had been done to her
He swallowed his fear
He found it in him to face the monster
He won his battle though he bears the scars
then he had to face her again
He'd made a promise he didn't want to keep
to her and the others he'd found
there was nothing else they wanted and nothing he could give
except to end their suffering
It goes without saying, I suppose
He was never the same again
He never said he needed anyone
Self-contained, an island to himself
Cold and hard as a stone
He could always find his own way
She found her way inside
past all his defenses
she took up residence in his mind
and now she rules his world
words and music by J Franklin Evans
Self-contained, an island to himself
Cold and hard as a stone
He could always find his own way
She found her way inside
past all his defenses
she took up residence in his mind
and now she rules his world
He would die before he'll admit it
He doesn't want it any other way
For a brief time, too brief, they were together
Fate and a monster then ripped them apart
He defied his fear to find her again
In a fortress at the end of time
Horrors and horrors he found
at the end of his journey
worst of all, he soon discovered
what had been done to her
He swallowed his fear
He found it in him to face the monster
He won his battle though he bears the scars
then he had to face her again
He'd made a promise he didn't want to keep
to her and the others he'd found
there was nothing else they wanted and nothing he could give
except to end their suffering
It goes without saying, I suppose
He was never the same again
He never said he needed anyone
Self-contained, an island to himself
Cold and hard as a stone
He could always find his own way
She found her way inside
past all his defenses
she took up residence in his mind
and now she rules his world
words and music by J Franklin Evans
Sunday, August 1, 2010
Character studies - Pralifax
I know, you're asking yourself, "Who?"
This is a character who sort of came together during many Dungeons and Dragons campaigns, back in the day.
Image via Wikipedia
This is a character who sort of came together during many Dungeons and Dragons campaigns, back in the day.
Image via WikipediaHe sort of emerged from that into a more three dimensional character and was going to be the protagonist of a series of novels. Swords-and-sorcery fantasy, to be clear. But, since I've given up on writing fiction, unless I write him into a screenplay he'll never see the light of day.
That ain't likely, as the series I was going to put him into is one of those epic things, a story that would probably have taken around six books for me to tell completely. Not including the short story I actually did write to introduce him and the story. Which was never published.
He is an interesting character, though, so it seems a shame to let him go to waste. Blogging about the guy is the least I can do.
Pralifax is a Paladin, basically a holy warrior. He's every bit as big of a pain in the ass as that sounds like. He began life as a slave and spent most of his first twenty-five years in training to become a soldier in a private army.
I'll skip over most of the details. When he's thirty he wins his freedom in a way that makes him a hero to other slaves and impresses his former owners.
He joins the official army of the Empire and rises through the ranks to become a general, adored by the citizens of the Empire, hated and feared by its enemies. The Empire in many ways parallels the Roman Empire, though there are some key differences, just FYI.
Anyways, Pralifax is a grim, tactiturn figure, covered with scars. In battle he does what is necessary to win. He does not believe in fair fights--he thinks the entire concept is ridiculous.
As a general he's wiped out entire populations that threatened his Empire, to make an example of them. To his fellow citizens he's a hero. To others he's a hated enemy, a war criminal.
Pralifax is one of those people who, once he's convinced he's right, no power in the universe will change his mind. The series of stories is about him becoming convinced that he must commit genocide, and then go to war against a god . . . and win it, for the sake of humanity. It's also about him deciding that the days of the Empire he loves are drawing to a close and it needs to be replaced with something a bit more democratic.
He's difficult to portray in a way that makes him sympathetic, which is one of the challenges of writing him. The intent is to show him as a human being, and to show the reasons he is the way he is. He also does have a sense of humor, though not to the casual observer. He only jokes with those who know him well and that he likes. If you watch NCIS, he's sort of Gibbs in armor with a sword and a lot grimmer.
Maybe, one day, some one will give me the money to do this thing. It'll be a long, complicated story (there are an awful lot of subplots involving peripheral characters and a lot of politics going on, too--like a power struggle between the Emperor and his cousin, with a bastard son of the Emperor coming into play). It'd make a great series of novels, movies, even graphic novels.
Maybe one day I'll be given the opportunity to do them. Who knows?
He is an interesting character, though, so it seems a shame to let him go to waste. Blogging about the guy is the least I can do.
Pralifax is a Paladin, basically a holy warrior. He's every bit as big of a pain in the ass as that sounds like. He began life as a slave and spent most of his first twenty-five years in training to become a soldier in a private army.
I'll skip over most of the details. When he's thirty he wins his freedom in a way that makes him a hero to other slaves and impresses his former owners.
He joins the official army of the Empire and rises through the ranks to become a general, adored by the citizens of the Empire, hated and feared by its enemies. The Empire in many ways parallels the Roman Empire, though there are some key differences, just FYI.
Anyways, Pralifax is a grim, tactiturn figure, covered with scars. In battle he does what is necessary to win. He does not believe in fair fights--he thinks the entire concept is ridiculous.
As a general he's wiped out entire populations that threatened his Empire, to make an example of them. To his fellow citizens he's a hero. To others he's a hated enemy, a war criminal.
Pralifax is one of those people who, once he's convinced he's right, no power in the universe will change his mind. The series of stories is about him becoming convinced that he must commit genocide, and then go to war against a god . . . and win it, for the sake of humanity. It's also about him deciding that the days of the Empire he loves are drawing to a close and it needs to be replaced with something a bit more democratic.
He's difficult to portray in a way that makes him sympathetic, which is one of the challenges of writing him. The intent is to show him as a human being, and to show the reasons he is the way he is. He also does have a sense of humor, though not to the casual observer. He only jokes with those who know him well and that he likes. If you watch NCIS, he's sort of Gibbs in armor with a sword and a lot grimmer.
Maybe, one day, some one will give me the money to do this thing. It'll be a long, complicated story (there are an awful lot of subplots involving peripheral characters and a lot of politics going on, too--like a power struggle between the Emperor and his cousin, with a bastard son of the Emperor coming into play). It'd make a great series of novels, movies, even graphic novels.
Maybe one day I'll be given the opportunity to do them. Who knows?
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