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.
Sunday, October 31, 2010
Saturday, October 30, 2010
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
Friday, October 29, 2010
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.
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.
Thursday, October 28, 2010
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.
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.
Sunday, October 24, 2010
"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.
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.
Saturday, October 23, 2010
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!
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!
Wednesday, October 20, 2010
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.
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.
Tuesday, October 19, 2010
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.
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.
Saturday, October 16, 2010
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.
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.
Friday, October 15, 2010
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.
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.
Tuesday, October 12, 2010
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.
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.
Saturday, October 9, 2010
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
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!
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!
Wednesday, October 6, 2010
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.
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.
Monday, October 4, 2010
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 . . .
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 . . .
Saturday, October 2, 2010
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.
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, October 1, 2010
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?
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?
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