The process

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

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

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

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

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

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

Ashes and Bone lyrics

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Ashes and bone

Hard as a stone

Every night about the usual time we head off to bed

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Ashes and bone

hard as a stone

leave me alone

with my ashes and bone

Ashes and bone

I'm not alone

not on my own

with my ashes and bone.

words and music by J Franklin Evans

The virtue of vices

I've started smoking again.

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

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

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

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

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

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

Remembering Asimov

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Homeworld" now available!

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

Bird calls

Warning: this post is even more trivial than usual.

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

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

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

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

Warped Words - the e-book edition

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

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

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

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