Today began with a contemplative mood and this mood has persisted throughout the morning to this very time. As it happens often enough, I am confronted by the question of moral existences. Life has a funny way of pesenting me with opportunities of relfection such as these. I think this mood actually started last night, actually. You ever get a sudden epiphany that something about you becomes blindingly apparent all at once, and either you react with a sort of startle or shame? Well, maybe not shame, per se, but disappointment. Moreover, I guess you could say I had a moment of clarity. For the first time in a long time, I saw myself and someone I have known for years in a different, unsettling light. But at the very least, one of them is immediately changeable. The other will require some careful consideration.
Taking into consideration that, at that time, I had had about four beers, I will take some responsibility for the possibility of warping my perspective. There. That's done. Now, to continue, I will stop drinking beer for a while I think about this. On the surface this sounds like I'm only doing this for one day. Not at all. I propose to quit drinking altogether for about two weeks at the very least starting today. Done it before. I can do it again. This will undoubtedly curb my night time activities. (For those of you who know me, don't hate me for not being around much.) It's OK, though; It might even save me some money. Then I can take that extra cash and start on the things I've been putting behind for too long. This leads me to my own realization that I had let some things pass too long without doing anything about them. This is part two of the things I can change: get of my ass and getting back in control of my destiny. It's time to take a proactive approach to those parts of my environment that I can control. I don't really want to put some really attractive distractions to the wayside, but I have way too much pride to let things continue as they are at the moment.
Anyways, the following poem is one that I wrote while i was thinking about the other person and the light by which she became apparent. I won't go into details, but it was pretty startling as I have known this person for years. Normally, I really hate the idea of puttng my stuff online with the possibility of not getting credit or my ideas. I realize the agreement that Google makes you agree to when you get an account with them is just another way for another company to say "Hey, come check us out, but if you do we are going to steal your shit and not pay you for it. We will also use it in any way, regardless of context - disparaging or promotional - or not at all regardless of how you feel about it. Oh, by the way, you waive all your instrinsic rights as human beings and citizens of [Enter Country Here] by agreeing to this document." It seems to be pretty fairly common practice for all sorts of companies. This time, however, I don't feel particularly inclined to complain or have the energy to care about it right now.
Enjoy.
---------------
The Broken Compass
There's no laughter I wish to find,
No confusion about the world,
No findings about the universe,
To make the toes begin to curl,
There's no order to my process,
No random to the entropy,
Simply a blanketing disappointment,
Boiling out from inside of me.
I reflect upon beginnings,
Of the inherent properties,
That became nothing more than nursery rhymes,
Of the phantom moralities,
And yet should this broken compass,
Pointing different for child and man,
Directs the quills staining legal parchment,
Without intentions for its hand.
Tell me when the identity,
Like caterpillars, grew their wings,
As butterflies, from the chrysalis flew,
Into a world of dif'rent things,
When did the sacred commandments,
And the intrinsic wrongs and rights,
Cease to be, ever again, recognized,
And cease our fires from burning bright.
---------------
By the way, I realize I told you guys that there would be another music review on here. I just wanted to take a moment to say the following: Be patient. It's coming. I plan to try to address that this weekend.
Also, tune into the ongoing adventures of Dalmar this weekend as we discover another chapter in his quest to return to Draftengil and exact his long-awaited his vengeance against the evil wizard, Xander. Only in my other blog, Bucholera! Will he make it? Who can tell? Tune in!
Invino Veritas
8/19/11 (Happy Birthday, sis!)
EOF
Friday, August 19, 2011
Thursday, August 11, 2011
Earthless - Live At Roadburn (2008): A Review
It's a chilly, rainy day in Missylvania as the winds that drive the storm crackle overhead and break through the effervescent sky of divine pipe smoke. The asthmatic breath of the gods point everything ninety degrees to the southeast, and I, without an umbrella, dash the ten feet through the howls of weather to quickly unlock my car door and hurl myself into the front seat. The general plan is to do this without getting too soaked, but that is just a pipe dream and I hit the seat, scoot upright with added motion in my hips, and slam the door behind as a monstrous gust beats at my driver side window like a horde of banshees beating at the the stone walls of Blarney Castle. I am soaked. The droplets of water drip from my bangs and onto my shirt as I turn the key and the cold AC, still on from yesterday's ride, blasts me in my face sending tiny daggers of ice through my veins as it whips across the water on my arms and face. "There's got to be more to life than this" I think to myself as I push the partially visible compact disc hanging from the player into its slit and watch it disappear. Perhaps I'll be lucky this time. Perhaps not. I close my eyes for a brief moment as if the added mental effort on my part might sway the spirits of earthly probability to allow this small gem of gold foil and lacquered plastic is alongside prayed to produce some cheerful sound to accompany my drive to work. No such luck. I shall only be beckoned by the droning laughter of the rain and wind, the splashing of the cars as I pass them and they pass me on either side of the white lines barely visible in the storm.
I walk into work twenty-seven minutes late due to poor visibility and the ire of a front that is still mad at mankind for not sacrificing a virgin at midnight perhaps. Hell, I don't know, but I'm really sick of having to drive in this rain at this point. This time it cost me money, and all I wanted to do was disappear into my work, and escape for a while on some dreamy current of music, textured velveteen with the knowledge that it would be a while before I had to venture back out in the elements. I slipped into my chair with nary a word, turned on my computer, and immediately put on my headphones. I flicked the switch on my external hard drive contianing all the music I owned in the world, sixty gigs stretched across a spinning platter lik a pizza pie made of the wreckage of a world war II bombing squadron. What was I in for? Who could tell. I had made a concerted effort recently to pick up some new music, and was eager to try some of it out. I discovered a record label, TeePee records, that had a bunch of neat bands with names like Black Math Horseman and Ancestors. "Earthless. Hmm. Okie dokie. Bring it on, Earthless." I said to myself as I started the first track of the album "Live at Roadburn". There were only two songs on this album which wasn't really an oddity for some of these bands to whom I had listened. Often these indy labels put out EPs of live shows and whatnot. What ensued after that mouse click was nothing short of ninety minutes of groovy and about seven or eight inches past 'Damn.'
Earthless was exactly what I needed this morning. The first track, Blue / From The Ages, began with a warm welcoming of the crowd at the 13th annual Roadburn fest in 2008. Earthless, didn't waste any time, however, as Isaiah Mitchell's feedback ladened whine of sustain broke the air and hung there like a bumblebee caught in an updraft and smoking a phatty while watching Max Headroom sing Merry Christmas, Santa Claus. I couldn't really tell you where either of the two songs started, ended, or came together. Unlike so many jams, the beauty of Earthless isn't at the joining of two ends a la The Allman Brothers Band, but rather the journey between multiple destinations amongst the stars of a universe painted with multiple effects and rawness of the dusty, woody tone of Mitchell's trip across the cosmos. As note after note swirls about the others in aeruption of harmonic ether. each rhythm, each variation of rhythm seems to break through like a sentient piece of baker's dough kneading itself in a tumbling dryer of existential discovery. I begin to see exactly why they call themselves Earthless. They are not simply a 'jam band' though I've only run across one song of their's that's under 7 minutes long and has words, and that's a cover tune.
Just happy to be along for the ride is the bouncy tone of Mike Eginton just outside the background of Mitchell's serenade piercing the black void ahead like a comet, holding his pilot just a few inches above the complementary tides of drum after drum sent forth by Mario Rubacalba, Earthless' mad scientist that broguht the elements together. But in the end, you have to ask yourself, "Does the monster bend to the will of the scientist, or does the scientist bend to the will of the monster?" Through fifty-six minutes of greased lightning and blazing solar furnaces of stoner rock, the listener's ear are wrapped around a variety of intermingling rhythms backboned by Rubacalba and Eginton, and fat, meaty accompaniments architectured by Mitchell's Silver Surfer -esque unravelings. During this time and with a hardly a otice, I replaced the LCD in a notebook computer. I had reached my goal. I escaped the trying frustrations of my corner of the universe. I, indeed, had become quite, well, earthless myself.
All was not cherries and popsicles, however. Now, there's nothing bad about this album, but after fifty-six minutes, I realized why I didn't own a lot of jam bands in my musical repertoire. Jam bands are like porn in that it's just not fun anymore after about an hour. I need a bit more conclusion, summarization, or even finality in my life. Well, if not in an existential sense, then atleast in context of my music. Perhaps my appraisal would be different if I hadn't made a particular effort to listen to every portion of this album today. After all, this is the kind of album you put on in the background during a cokout with your friends and just let it hang in the background like a weather baloon made of awesome, pulsing just enough to occaionally catch someone's attention to appreciate it. I really like this album. But I can't sit for 90 minutes and listen to two songs, unless I have something to affect my sense of time to the point that time flies by or my mental functions completely drag like sliding down an incline made of caulk. In this, Earthless is no Allman Brothers, Rubacalba is no Gregg Allman, and Mitchell is no Duane Allman. But they are pretty damned good in their own right. Comparing the two isn't fair, though, as that's really comparing oranges and bike tires. Yeah, they are both round, but that's really about it. I could compare them to, maybe, some of the Widespread Panic jams, but then that just leaves me wondering 'Widespread who?'. But that wouldn't be fair to Earthless, right?
Alas, I digress.
Earthless Links:
Earthless @ MySpace
Earthless @ Wikipedia
Gravity Records
TeePee Records
Earthless @ Last.fm
Enjoy.
Invino Veritas
8/11/11
EOF
I walk into work twenty-seven minutes late due to poor visibility and the ire of a front that is still mad at mankind for not sacrificing a virgin at midnight perhaps. Hell, I don't know, but I'm really sick of having to drive in this rain at this point. This time it cost me money, and all I wanted to do was disappear into my work, and escape for a while on some dreamy current of music, textured velveteen with the knowledge that it would be a while before I had to venture back out in the elements. I slipped into my chair with nary a word, turned on my computer, and immediately put on my headphones. I flicked the switch on my external hard drive contianing all the music I owned in the world, sixty gigs stretched across a spinning platter lik a pizza pie made of the wreckage of a world war II bombing squadron. What was I in for? Who could tell. I had made a concerted effort recently to pick up some new music, and was eager to try some of it out. I discovered a record label, TeePee records, that had a bunch of neat bands with names like Black Math Horseman and Ancestors. "Earthless. Hmm. Okie dokie. Bring it on, Earthless." I said to myself as I started the first track of the album "Live at Roadburn". There were only two songs on this album which wasn't really an oddity for some of these bands to whom I had listened. Often these indy labels put out EPs of live shows and whatnot. What ensued after that mouse click was nothing short of ninety minutes of groovy and about seven or eight inches past 'Damn.'
Earthless was exactly what I needed this morning. The first track, Blue / From The Ages, began with a warm welcoming of the crowd at the 13th annual Roadburn fest in 2008. Earthless, didn't waste any time, however, as Isaiah Mitchell's feedback ladened whine of sustain broke the air and hung there like a bumblebee caught in an updraft and smoking a phatty while watching Max Headroom sing Merry Christmas, Santa Claus. I couldn't really tell you where either of the two songs started, ended, or came together. Unlike so many jams, the beauty of Earthless isn't at the joining of two ends a la The Allman Brothers Band, but rather the journey between multiple destinations amongst the stars of a universe painted with multiple effects and rawness of the dusty, woody tone of Mitchell's trip across the cosmos. As note after note swirls about the others in aeruption of harmonic ether. each rhythm, each variation of rhythm seems to break through like a sentient piece of baker's dough kneading itself in a tumbling dryer of existential discovery. I begin to see exactly why they call themselves Earthless. They are not simply a 'jam band' though I've only run across one song of their's that's under 7 minutes long and has words, and that's a cover tune.
Just happy to be along for the ride is the bouncy tone of Mike Eginton just outside the background of Mitchell's serenade piercing the black void ahead like a comet, holding his pilot just a few inches above the complementary tides of drum after drum sent forth by Mario Rubacalba, Earthless' mad scientist that broguht the elements together. But in the end, you have to ask yourself, "Does the monster bend to the will of the scientist, or does the scientist bend to the will of the monster?" Through fifty-six minutes of greased lightning and blazing solar furnaces of stoner rock, the listener's ear are wrapped around a variety of intermingling rhythms backboned by Rubacalba and Eginton, and fat, meaty accompaniments architectured by Mitchell's Silver Surfer -esque unravelings. During this time and with a hardly a otice, I replaced the LCD in a notebook computer. I had reached my goal. I escaped the trying frustrations of my corner of the universe. I, indeed, had become quite, well, earthless myself.
All was not cherries and popsicles, however. Now, there's nothing bad about this album, but after fifty-six minutes, I realized why I didn't own a lot of jam bands in my musical repertoire. Jam bands are like porn in that it's just not fun anymore after about an hour. I need a bit more conclusion, summarization, or even finality in my life. Well, if not in an existential sense, then atleast in context of my music. Perhaps my appraisal would be different if I hadn't made a particular effort to listen to every portion of this album today. After all, this is the kind of album you put on in the background during a cokout with your friends and just let it hang in the background like a weather baloon made of awesome, pulsing just enough to occaionally catch someone's attention to appreciate it. I really like this album. But I can't sit for 90 minutes and listen to two songs, unless I have something to affect my sense of time to the point that time flies by or my mental functions completely drag like sliding down an incline made of caulk. In this, Earthless is no Allman Brothers, Rubacalba is no Gregg Allman, and Mitchell is no Duane Allman. But they are pretty damned good in their own right. Comparing the two isn't fair, though, as that's really comparing oranges and bike tires. Yeah, they are both round, but that's really about it. I could compare them to, maybe, some of the Widespread Panic jams, but then that just leaves me wondering 'Widespread who?'. But that wouldn't be fair to Earthless, right?
Alas, I digress.
Earthless Links:
Earthless @ MySpace
Earthless @ Wikipedia
Gravity Records
TeePee Records
Earthless @ Last.fm
Enjoy.
Invino Veritas
8/11/11
EOF
Tuesday, August 9, 2011
Devilishly Departmental: A Farce
[Scene I: The Throneroom]
[Satan is awaiting Agent 666]
[Enter Agent 666]
Agent 666: Father, the demoness Lilith awaits you in her cavern.
Satan: Excellent, my son. Maybe THIS time she'll have created a being evil enough to serve
in my armies outside the boundaries of my domain.
Agent 666: Perhaps if you hadn't taken away her intelligence...
Satan: Don't question me, thrull! It was necessary to keep her at bay! We can't have
powerful being just wandering the cosmos willy-nilly. That'd be silly!
Agent 666: But father, don't you wander the cosmos, and aren't you powerful?
Satan: Why, sure, but I'm usually back before 6:30 each night. The Australian version of
Baywatch comes on at 7:00. Can't miss that, you know!
Agent 666: Well, that's kind of hypocritical, don't you think?
Satan: What part about 'DEVIL' don't you get? I thought the [mockingly] powerful and craft
Antichrist would be able to fathom THAT idea at least!
Agent 666: Yeah, yeah. [Mockingly quoting Satan] D plus evil spells you, I get it it already.
[Makes a masturbatory gesture] But how in the pit is hypocrisy evil?
Satan: Because I said so! I am Satan. It comes with the job. He gets to decide what is good,
and I decide what is evil.
Agent 666: That doesn't make something evil. Things are evil not because they are declared
to be evil, but rather because they have an inrinsic property of being evil.
Satan: Enough already! [Mumbling] Kid thinks I don't know evil!
Agent 666: Well, whatever. Lilith is waiting.
Satan: Why don't you go to the lake of fire and play? I'll walk myself to Lilith's cavern.
Agent 666: I would probably take off those bunny slippers first. It doesn't really do much for
your credibility as the Prince of Darkness.
Satan: [Looking] Oh, hmm. You may be right. [Pauses] On the other hand, that's what
makes it SO evil! I'm so evil, I make MYSELF look bad! [Laughs maniacally]
Agent 666: [Rolling his eyes] I'd better stay and help you find your way. You might end up in
New Jersey again, and I don't want to listen to you bitch for another century.
Satan: Well, New Jersey was just AWFUL. You don't know what it's like.
Agent 666: Father? Lilith?
Satan: Right. Lead on.
[Exit Satan and Agent 666]
[End of Scene I]
[Scene II: The City of Dis]
[Satan and Agent 666 are walking through the city on their way to Lilith's cavern]
Agent 666: If you want to get to Lilith's anytime soon, we can't stop in EVERY brothel
in Hell on the way.
Satan: Why the Hell not?
[Enter Orcus]
Orcus: Satan! Great to see you! How are you?
Satan: Orcus, ole' buddy! How excellent to see you. How's Glasya? Still ugly as ever?
Orcus: Getting uglier everyday!
Satan: And little Agox?
Orcus: Uglier than Glasya!
Satan: Great! Too bad you're such a handsome devil! [Laughs with Orcus]
Agent 666: Good to see you again, Master Orcus, but we're on our way to Lilith's. I'm sorry,
but we really must be going....
Satan: Oh, pshaw! We've got plenty of time. Besides, I haven't seen Orcus since Munich
1972.
Orcus: Actually, I'm in a hurry as well. Just saw ou guys and wanted to say hello. I'm on my
way to pick up some brimstone for the missus. We're a bit low.
Satan: Ahh, well, in that case, we'll be on our way.
[Enter Mephistopheles]
Mephistopheles: Satan, you old bastard, how are you!?
Satan: Mephistopheles! Older than you, you whippersnapper you!
Mephistopheles: And twice as pretty!
Satan: How else can I convince your mom to turn around?
[Each erupt in laughter]
Mephistopheles: Orcus, my old friend, and how are you? Still peddling magic tricks to
children on All Hallow's Eve?
Orcus: Yeah, we've been recruiting pretty heavy this year.
Mephistopheles: Excellent! Get 'em while they're young!
Orcus: Exactly. Candy is such a great reinforcer.
Mephistopheles: [Looking at Satan's slippers] Nice slippers, chief.
Agent 666: I told you, father!
Satan: They are evil bunny slippers. Can't you tell? Orcus and I were just talking about
how evil these things are just a few moments ago, weren't we, Orcus?
Orcus: Oh, yeah, definitely. Evil. That's it. Right down to the core. Mmmhmm.
Mephistopheles: [Guaging Satan and Orcus' intentions] Oh, you two! Damn tricksters!
You really must join me sometime. You can usually find me at The Bloody Mic
down on 3rd and Souless Way. I do a bit there on Wednesday nights.
Orcus: Sounds great!
Satan: That sounds like fun, old friend!
Agent 666: Yes, yes, but as for NOW, we really must be going....
Satan: I'm afraid the boy's right, fellas.
Orcus: Me too. Great to see you guys. Catch you on the flipside. [Exit Orcus]
Mephistopheles: Actually I was just on my way to shoot some ducks with the little
demoness. Great to see you again, Satan.
Satan: Always a pleasure.
[Exit Mephistopheles]
Agent 666: Finally, we can get on our way!
Satan: Pipe down before I cause an Alluvian Spider's egg sac to erupt inside your
eyeball again.
Agent 666: That was NOT funny.
Satan: Oh, but it was funny. Just ask the slippers. [Wiggles the slippers making the
bunny ears flop]
Agent 666: Anyways, we're late. Come on.
Satan: Right-O!
[Exit Satan and Agent 666]
[End of Scene II]
[Scene III: Lilith's Cavern]
[Lilith. the mother of all demons, awaits Satan while dancing and listening to
Cyndi Lauper's Girls Just Want To Have Fun]
[Enter Satan and Agent 666]
Satan: ....and THAT is where I hid Hoffa's body.
Lilith: [Startled; Turns off the music] Your majesty!
Satan: Ahh, Lilith! So fine that I should gaze upon your disgusting features once again.
[Kisses her cheek]
Lilith: Oh! Your majesty!
Satan: Agent, I believe I can handle things now. Go find something to kill, but be back
by six.
Agent 666: Umm, ok. [Bows to Lilith]
[Exit Agent 666]
Satan: Now, what have you created for me this time? Another agent, I hope?
Lilith: [Twitching nervously] Yes, sire, another agent. Behold....[Gesturing]...Agent 665!
Satan: Agent 665? You DO realize that we had passed that number already?
Lilith: Yes, your majesty. I thought since you were so adamant about using 666 the first
time that you might want to start at 665 this time because, well, you know, you
skipped it last time.
Satan: I also skipped zero through six-sixty-four. Do you plan to screw up 664 more
times?
Lilith: Perhaps the sire would care to see some its features? [Claps her hands]
Satan: Holy shit, Lilith! My god, that's huge. Was that really necessary to put that on
there?
Lilith: Yes, it was absolutely necessary, sire.
Satan: Well, ok for now, but I want that shrunk a few inches by the final draft.
Lilith: Yes, sire.
Satan: Ok, what else you got?
Lilith: Four spring rolls, a few grimoires, and a complete collection of Cyndi Lauper
records from 1983 to the present.
Satan: No, I mean what else can this thing do? [Mumbling] Dumbshit.
Lilith: Oh! Yes, of course. Well, Agent 665 is pyrokinetic, electrokinetic, psychokinetic,
telekinetic, and can use the entire spectrum of light to see if it chooses.
Satan: [Sarcastically] Oh, well THAT's useful. Finally, someone who can choose not to
be able to detect anything and everything.
Lilith: [Mumbling, speaking quickly] and hehasgreatstamina....
Satan: What?
Lilith: Hmm?
Satan: [Dismissing Lilith's comment] Well, [Sighs] I guess you can send it over tomorrow.
But if it isn't evil enough this time, I'm afraid we'll just have to have you mulched
and spread over the death flowers in the great hall.
Lilith: As you wish, sire.
Satan: In the meantime and since we ended early...[Snaps his fingers]
[Fade to Black]
Lilith: Sire? Are those bunny slippers?
[Begin song Just A Gigolo by David Lee Roth.]
[End Scene III]
[End Act]
Invino Veritas
8/9/11
EOF
[Satan is awaiting Agent 666]
[Enter Agent 666]
Agent 666: Father, the demoness Lilith awaits you in her cavern.
Satan: Excellent, my son. Maybe THIS time she'll have created a being evil enough to serve
in my armies outside the boundaries of my domain.
Agent 666: Perhaps if you hadn't taken away her intelligence...
Satan: Don't question me, thrull! It was necessary to keep her at bay! We can't have
powerful being just wandering the cosmos willy-nilly. That'd be silly!
Agent 666: But father, don't you wander the cosmos, and aren't you powerful?
Satan: Why, sure, but I'm usually back before 6:30 each night. The Australian version of
Baywatch comes on at 7:00. Can't miss that, you know!
Agent 666: Well, that's kind of hypocritical, don't you think?
Satan: What part about 'DEVIL' don't you get? I thought the [mockingly] powerful and craft
Antichrist would be able to fathom THAT idea at least!
Agent 666: Yeah, yeah. [Mockingly quoting Satan] D plus evil spells you, I get it it already.
[Makes a masturbatory gesture] But how in the pit is hypocrisy evil?
Satan: Because I said so! I am Satan. It comes with the job. He gets to decide what is good,
and I decide what is evil.
Agent 666: That doesn't make something evil. Things are evil not because they are declared
to be evil, but rather because they have an inrinsic property of being evil.
Satan: Enough already! [Mumbling] Kid thinks I don't know evil!
Agent 666: Well, whatever. Lilith is waiting.
Satan: Why don't you go to the lake of fire and play? I'll walk myself to Lilith's cavern.
Agent 666: I would probably take off those bunny slippers first. It doesn't really do much for
your credibility as the Prince of Darkness.
Satan: [Looking] Oh, hmm. You may be right. [Pauses] On the other hand, that's what
makes it SO evil! I'm so evil, I make MYSELF look bad! [Laughs maniacally]
Agent 666: [Rolling his eyes] I'd better stay and help you find your way. You might end up in
New Jersey again, and I don't want to listen to you bitch for another century.
Satan: Well, New Jersey was just AWFUL. You don't know what it's like.
Agent 666: Father? Lilith?
Satan: Right. Lead on.
[Exit Satan and Agent 666]
[End of Scene I]
[Scene II: The City of Dis]
[Satan and Agent 666 are walking through the city on their way to Lilith's cavern]
Agent 666: If you want to get to Lilith's anytime soon, we can't stop in EVERY brothel
in Hell on the way.
Satan: Why the Hell not?
[Enter Orcus]
Orcus: Satan! Great to see you! How are you?
Satan: Orcus, ole' buddy! How excellent to see you. How's Glasya? Still ugly as ever?
Orcus: Getting uglier everyday!
Satan: And little Agox?
Orcus: Uglier than Glasya!
Satan: Great! Too bad you're such a handsome devil! [Laughs with Orcus]
Agent 666: Good to see you again, Master Orcus, but we're on our way to Lilith's. I'm sorry,
but we really must be going....
Satan: Oh, pshaw! We've got plenty of time. Besides, I haven't seen Orcus since Munich
1972.
Orcus: Actually, I'm in a hurry as well. Just saw ou guys and wanted to say hello. I'm on my
way to pick up some brimstone for the missus. We're a bit low.
Satan: Ahh, well, in that case, we'll be on our way.
[Enter Mephistopheles]
Mephistopheles: Satan, you old bastard, how are you!?
Satan: Mephistopheles! Older than you, you whippersnapper you!
Mephistopheles: And twice as pretty!
Satan: How else can I convince your mom to turn around?
[Each erupt in laughter]
Mephistopheles: Orcus, my old friend, and how are you? Still peddling magic tricks to
children on All Hallow's Eve?
Orcus: Yeah, we've been recruiting pretty heavy this year.
Mephistopheles: Excellent! Get 'em while they're young!
Orcus: Exactly. Candy is such a great reinforcer.
Mephistopheles: [Looking at Satan's slippers] Nice slippers, chief.
Agent 666: I told you, father!
Satan: They are evil bunny slippers. Can't you tell? Orcus and I were just talking about
how evil these things are just a few moments ago, weren't we, Orcus?
Orcus: Oh, yeah, definitely. Evil. That's it. Right down to the core. Mmmhmm.
Mephistopheles: [Guaging Satan and Orcus' intentions] Oh, you two! Damn tricksters!
You really must join me sometime. You can usually find me at The Bloody Mic
down on 3rd and Souless Way. I do a bit there on Wednesday nights.
Orcus: Sounds great!
Satan: That sounds like fun, old friend!
Agent 666: Yes, yes, but as for NOW, we really must be going....
Satan: I'm afraid the boy's right, fellas.
Orcus: Me too. Great to see you guys. Catch you on the flipside. [Exit Orcus]
Mephistopheles: Actually I was just on my way to shoot some ducks with the little
demoness. Great to see you again, Satan.
Satan: Always a pleasure.
[Exit Mephistopheles]
Agent 666: Finally, we can get on our way!
Satan: Pipe down before I cause an Alluvian Spider's egg sac to erupt inside your
eyeball again.
Agent 666: That was NOT funny.
Satan: Oh, but it was funny. Just ask the slippers. [Wiggles the slippers making the
bunny ears flop]
Agent 666: Anyways, we're late. Come on.
Satan: Right-O!
[Exit Satan and Agent 666]
[End of Scene II]
[Scene III: Lilith's Cavern]
[Lilith. the mother of all demons, awaits Satan while dancing and listening to
Cyndi Lauper's Girls Just Want To Have Fun]
[Enter Satan and Agent 666]
Satan: ....and THAT is where I hid Hoffa's body.
Lilith: [Startled; Turns off the music] Your majesty!
Satan: Ahh, Lilith! So fine that I should gaze upon your disgusting features once again.
[Kisses her cheek]
Lilith: Oh! Your majesty!
Satan: Agent, I believe I can handle things now. Go find something to kill, but be back
by six.
Agent 666: Umm, ok. [Bows to Lilith]
[Exit Agent 666]
Satan: Now, what have you created for me this time? Another agent, I hope?
Lilith: [Twitching nervously] Yes, sire, another agent. Behold....[Gesturing]...Agent 665!
Satan: Agent 665? You DO realize that we had passed that number already?
Lilith: Yes, your majesty. I thought since you were so adamant about using 666 the first
time that you might want to start at 665 this time because, well, you know, you
skipped it last time.
Satan: I also skipped zero through six-sixty-four. Do you plan to screw up 664 more
times?
Lilith: Perhaps the sire would care to see some its features? [Claps her hands]
Satan: Holy shit, Lilith! My god, that's huge. Was that really necessary to put that on
there?
Lilith: Yes, it was absolutely necessary, sire.
Satan: Well, ok for now, but I want that shrunk a few inches by the final draft.
Lilith: Yes, sire.
Satan: Ok, what else you got?
Lilith: Four spring rolls, a few grimoires, and a complete collection of Cyndi Lauper
records from 1983 to the present.
Satan: No, I mean what else can this thing do? [Mumbling] Dumbshit.
Lilith: Oh! Yes, of course. Well, Agent 665 is pyrokinetic, electrokinetic, psychokinetic,
telekinetic, and can use the entire spectrum of light to see if it chooses.
Satan: [Sarcastically] Oh, well THAT's useful. Finally, someone who can choose not to
be able to detect anything and everything.
Lilith: [Mumbling, speaking quickly] and hehasgreatstamina....
Satan: What?
Lilith: Hmm?
Satan: [Dismissing Lilith's comment] Well, [Sighs] I guess you can send it over tomorrow.
But if it isn't evil enough this time, I'm afraid we'll just have to have you mulched
and spread over the death flowers in the great hall.
Lilith: As you wish, sire.
Satan: In the meantime and since we ended early...[Snaps his fingers]
[Fade to Black]
Lilith: Sire? Are those bunny slippers?
[Begin song Just A Gigolo by David Lee Roth.]
[End Scene III]
[End Act]
Invino Veritas
8/9/11
EOF
Monday, August 8, 2011
Cheese Wheel In The Sky Keeps On Turning Green
The day started as any other day - an annoying buzz from my alarm clock, a mental cursing, and of course a song popped into my head. I have been spending the last few weeks searching for new bands that I like using the Last FM website and their "Fire.fm" Firefox Extension, and have found several cool bands that are relatively unknown such as U.S. Christmas, Black Math Horseman, and Torche. I have a pretty wide range of musical interests. On any one day, my track list may include anything from Hank Williams, Jr to Slayer to Sinatra and Duke Ellington. Needless to say however, the last few weeks have been characterized by some interesting musical starts to my day(s). But what made today mental music selection different was it chose not only a pretty cheesy band but a pretty damned cheesy song. I quickly realized much to my mild dismay that this was also a band and song that I have in my 10,000 song catalog on my external hard drive. (Yes, I KNOW some of you have larger catalogs. I'm working on it!) Against my better judgment, I will bear my soul unto thee. I will tell you the name of this band that I like, no matter what the consequences of its cheese and the repercussions of its unleashing upon the world.
Loverboy.
Yes, it's true. I said Loverboy.
As this revelation struck me completely strange this morning, I had to let out a bit of a chuckle as I rose from my bed to greet the rest of the day. "Hmph, Loverboy, eh? Weeeeelllll, allrighty then!" I said to myself. I had a bit of a time resisting the mental preparations of the impending Monday workday. To complicate this, my CD player in my car actually worked for once this morning, and I was soon flooded with the groovy goodness of Jamiroquai for the entire ride. But this need to listen to some Loverboy was a persistent need. After all, I had to get this wonderful cheese out of my head. Since about 8:45 a.m., I've been listening to Loverboy. Currently, it's 11:40 a.m. Get the picture?
2:54 p.m.
Ok, a good lunch break seemed to break the madness that was the Loverboy Tsunami. Apparently, the key is a Gyro and ten Cajun spiced wings. Who would've thunk it?
Anyways, now I'm back on track, or at least following a similar path to the past few weeks. The band I'm listening to is one I kind of like called Ancestors. No "The", just Ancestors. They are a stoner rock band that sometimes do these dreamy sort of piano and violin instrumental arrangements. (I recommend the album 'Of Sound Mind'.) According to their bio at Teepee Records, they worked with some guy from The Melvins. They are pretty good stuff. When I listen to stuff like this, I feel like I'm 19 again and just starting to hang out with college kids. Except that would have probably been grunge and what was otherwise called "college rock" and (retch!) Alternative.
Man, I really HATE that term 'alternative'; It made absolutely no sense as every 'alternative' band sounded different. I mean, really? You're going to tell me that Soundgarden and Alice in Chains sounded the same?
Anyways, I've worn myself out. On to some Siena Root. Enough blogging.
Don't you have something to do?
Like, get me a taco?
Invino Veritas
8/8/11
EOF
Loverboy.
Yes, it's true. I said Loverboy.
As this revelation struck me completely strange this morning, I had to let out a bit of a chuckle as I rose from my bed to greet the rest of the day. "Hmph, Loverboy, eh? Weeeeelllll, allrighty then!" I said to myself. I had a bit of a time resisting the mental preparations of the impending Monday workday. To complicate this, my CD player in my car actually worked for once this morning, and I was soon flooded with the groovy goodness of Jamiroquai for the entire ride. But this need to listen to some Loverboy was a persistent need. After all, I had to get this wonderful cheese out of my head. Since about 8:45 a.m., I've been listening to Loverboy. Currently, it's 11:40 a.m. Get the picture?
2:54 p.m.
Ok, a good lunch break seemed to break the madness that was the Loverboy Tsunami. Apparently, the key is a Gyro and ten Cajun spiced wings. Who would've thunk it?
Anyways, now I'm back on track, or at least following a similar path to the past few weeks. The band I'm listening to is one I kind of like called Ancestors. No "The", just Ancestors. They are a stoner rock band that sometimes do these dreamy sort of piano and violin instrumental arrangements. (I recommend the album 'Of Sound Mind'.) According to their bio at Teepee Records, they worked with some guy from The Melvins. They are pretty good stuff. When I listen to stuff like this, I feel like I'm 19 again and just starting to hang out with college kids. Except that would have probably been grunge and what was otherwise called "college rock" and (retch!) Alternative.
Man, I really HATE that term 'alternative'; It made absolutely no sense as every 'alternative' band sounded different. I mean, really? You're going to tell me that Soundgarden and Alice in Chains sounded the same?
Anyways, I've worn myself out. On to some Siena Root. Enough blogging.
Don't you have something to do?
Like, get me a taco?
Invino Veritas
8/8/11
EOF
Thursday, August 4, 2011
Flibbertigibbetry
Flibbertigibbetry. noun, (flib-buhr-ti-jib-bi-trē)
-tries, plural
-trous, adjective
-tral, adjective
Say it with me. It's a word I made up. It's a silly word derived from the term flibbertigibbet, which refers to a person who gossips and otherwise tells silly things. I made up this word because I needed a word to describe how I was feeling at a particular moment. It's true that this word is silly, and I do, indeed, feel a bit silly at the moment. But it embodies the spirit of how i am feeling, methinks. I don't expect anyone to include flibbertigibbetry in the next editions of the Oxford English Dictionary much less Webster's Pocket Dictionary (the "wide" version, for people with big butts so that their pockets are big enough to carry it at leisure). But it suits my purpose right now and perhaps in the future. That's all the reason I need, and if you and I ever have a conversation then I will be sure to try to use it to give it some relevance.
Invino Veritas
8/4/11
EOF
(p.s. I'm bored at work. What did you expect?)
-tries, plural
-trous, adjective
-tral, adjective
Say it with me. It's a word I made up. It's a silly word derived from the term flibbertigibbet, which refers to a person who gossips and otherwise tells silly things. I made up this word because I needed a word to describe how I was feeling at a particular moment. It's true that this word is silly, and I do, indeed, feel a bit silly at the moment. But it embodies the spirit of how i am feeling, methinks. I don't expect anyone to include flibbertigibbetry in the next editions of the Oxford English Dictionary much less Webster's Pocket Dictionary (the "wide" version, for people with big butts so that their pockets are big enough to carry it at leisure). But it suits my purpose right now and perhaps in the future. That's all the reason I need, and if you and I ever have a conversation then I will be sure to try to use it to give it some relevance.
Invino Veritas
8/4/11
EOF
(p.s. I'm bored at work. What did you expect?)
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