[Harry Strong, editor of The Manchester Sentinel is hard at work, editing the next edition.
He looks over his reporters' stories, mad with the imperfection. He ravenously smokes a
seemingly never-ending cigar and dons a three-day-old five o'clock shadow, occasionally
taking a swig of his scotch and soda nearby.]
Harry: Crap! Crap I say! Not a damn writer in the lot o' them!
[Begins scribbling something on the paper.]
If ... I wanted ... crap ... I would ... have ... taken a...
[The office door slams open as Margo charges into the room.]
Margo What's the big idea puttin' the Titano story on page two?! That's a cherry, a real
peach! Why, Lucy said it was the best one I ever did. It's a great story, a flippin'
humdinger, Harry. You gotta' put it on the front page.
Harry: Sorry, Margo, no picture? No page. You know the rules.
Margo: [Softer now] Come on, Harry! For old times' sake? Please, Harry?
[Margo sits on the desk giving him sexy, puppy dog eyes.]
Harry: Been there, done that, the book's on the shelf, Dollface. You want front page?
Get me an exclusive. What's his real name? What's his shoe size? Does he
prefer boxers or whitey-tighties? And for pete's sake, what the [Louder] hell
does he look like?!
Margo: Fine. You want a picture? Picture me walking over to Tommy Seville at the
Dispatch. 'Sposin I drop it on his desk, ya know, by accident.
Harry: I'd be 'sposin, then, that page three is where you belong, Dollface.
Margo: You know you're a real creep, Harry.
Harry: [Stands and leans over the desk in Margo's face.]
How about we discuss the front page tonight over dinner, Margo? Antonio's
sound ok to you? Then later I can show you why they call me 'Headstrong
Harry'.
Margo: Nice try, Harold,...
[Walks into the doorway and turns around]
But from what I hear, it's just hairy, and not so strong, old man!
[Slams the door as she walks out]
Harry: [Takes a drink] Bah!
[Enter Finn]
Finn: Boss!
Harry: Damnit, Finn! I thought I told you to never interrupt me while I'm drinking.
Finn: But, Boss, you're always drinking!
Harry: And you're still here?
Finn: But there's a forty-foot gorilla attacking the police station!
Harry: My god, man! Now, that is what I call news! Finny, ole boy, go tell Margo
she has one hour. Tell her, get me some damned pictures.
Finn: On it!
[Exit Finn]
Harry: [Takes a drink; crunches on the ice while peering through the blinds]
An hour before the world might end, and I'm out of Scotch. Well, at least
I know where I'm headin', and the top of the stairs sits just outside my
door. What luck! A slap on the tail comin' in, and a kick in the pants
on the way out. What luck, I tell ya'!
[Enter Officer]
Officer: You all right up in 'ere, Mistah' Strong?
Harry: Yeah...no, hey, could ya do me a favor?
Officer: Shore' Mistah' Strong! Anything! Just name it.
Harry: Would one of ya' mind running up the street and getting me a bottle?
I'd do it myself and all, but....you know. Gotta wait here for my guys to
come home, right?
Officer: Oh, no, Mistah' Strong. We're not allowed to do anything like that. Why,
if the Capt'n ever heard I bought liquor while I was on duty...boy! He'd
go crazy and, ...and tear my eyes out or somethin'!
Harry: I don't think he'll be mindin' today...uhh, what'd you say your name was?
Officer: Daryl, sir, Mistah' Strong. Daryl Wincott.
Harry: Well, Daryl, did you hear that crash earlier? [Daryl nods.] Well, if it happened
this close, then that means that big ape made it through your buddies and he's
probably heading this way. Ya' follow?
Officer: [Daryl first nods "no", but then realizes the huge gorilla is coming]
Oh, golly, Mistah Strong! We got to get outta here!
Harry: Thaaaaaaaaat's right, Daryl. But first, you're going to go to the liquor store
for me. [Harry fumbles for cash in his pocket] There's six....six dollars. That
ought to be enough. Thanks Daryl! You're going to win a medal, ya's know
that? If we get out of this, I'm gonna' put you in the paper!
Officer: Really? Oh, that'd be swell! [Swells with pride]
Harry: You betcha' Daryl! Now, go get me that bottle of Scotch!
Officer: I will, Mistah' Strong! I'll be right back!
[Exit Officer]
Harry: Geez! The apocalypse is here and I just bribed a cop to get me some booze.
God Bless America, eh? Duality wins again!
[Looks through the blinds as a large crash can be heard]
Well, damn, Daryl! You could have at least put up some kind of fight!
[Another crash rings out followed by a loud roar]
Well, on second thought, maybe not. That way you ended up under it rather
than inside it, Daryl.
[Holds up the last of his glass of ice]
Here's to Daryl: loyal to the end even if it took some coaxing along the way.
May he end up in a better place than I.
[Crunches the ice and slides the glass onto the desk]
Damn, he owes me six bucks, that dyin' bastard!
[Yelling at the window]
Daryl, you lazy sunuvabitch, quit lying down on the job! I want my money
back! All six bucks of it!
[Enter Margo as the door slams open; Margo's dress is torn to shreds and her
body shows signs of bruising. The soot of fires has stained her body and clothes,
and she is enraged.]
Harry: Margo!
Margo: Harry, you son of a bitch, you. You wanted pictures? Well, I got your damn
pictures! [Throws a set of photographs at Harry who ducks]
Harry: Margo? What's wrong, baby? You look tense! Try to calm down. Have a glass
of...umm..ya know what, no scotch. Just rest, baby.
[Harry goes over and pulls out a chair for her]
Margo: Harry?
Harry: [Timidly] Margo?
Margo: [Slaps him across the face] That's for the pictures.
[Pulls his hair ripping a lock from his scalp]
And that's for the forty-foot gorilla nobody mentioned beforehand!
Harry: Oww! What're you? Crazy? I sent Finn down to catch you! Didn't
he tell you?
Margot: I never saw Finn, Harry! Do I look like I saw Finn? Look at me, Harry, goddamnit!
[Taking a breath and calming herself]
Harry?
Harry: Margot? [This time Harry winces and backs away]
Margot: If we get out of this alive, I'm going to kill you.
Harry: [Makes a disgusted face as he stares at her for a moment and then returns to look
out the window. Margot seems to drift out of consciousness in the chair. Harry,
once again, finds himself alone. The scene ends with another loud crash from the
streets outside as Harry stares into space, aiming his gaze out the window.]
[End Scene I]
[Fade to Black]
Monday, October 31, 2011
Friday, October 28, 2011
Somewhere Along The Way
Somewhere Along The Way
In the beginning, it was O.K.,
In the beginning, it was all right,
As a matter of prerogative,
Begin with an interrogative,
In order to allay and enlight.
Yet, alas, somewhere along the way,
Around a campfire in the night,
Born of an infantile derision,
And penchant for the quick decision,
In order to belay the untrite.
For it was no longer Plato's day,
Aristotle was no longer right,
On deafened ears they did not impart,
And Galileo had no such chart,
In order to fray ropes tied tight.
Yea, as the funerary ropes sway,
In the early morning's rising light,
The atheist artists catch the sun,
Painting the corpses of everyone,
Where the wretched pray and gifted fight.
In the beginning, it was O.K.,
In the beginning, it was all right,
As a matter of prerogative,
Begin with an interrogative,
In order to allay and enlight.
Yet, alas, somewhere along the way,
Around a campfire in the night,
Born of an infantile derision,
And penchant for the quick decision,
In order to belay the untrite.
For it was no longer Plato's day,
Aristotle was no longer right,
On deafened ears they did not impart,
And Galileo had no such chart,
In order to fray ropes tied tight.
Yea, as the funerary ropes sway,
In the early morning's rising light,
The atheist artists catch the sun,
Painting the corpses of everyone,
Where the wretched pray and gifted fight.
Friday, October 21, 2011
The Visitation
The Visitation
[Begin Act I]
[Begin Scene I]
[The guests and family are viewing the casket of the boy who died, Alex. His best friend,
David, is sitting off to the left beside a window waiting for everyone to leave so he can
say his final goodbyes. Alex's mother sits beside David.]
Amy: I am so sorry, David. Alex was a great guy, and it won't be the same seeing you
without him following right behind you. If you need someone to talk to, give me
a call.
David: [Wryly] Thanks, Amy. Thanks for coming.
[Amy approaches the casket to pay her respcts to Alex.]
Mrs. Ashcroft: It's a very lovely service, David. We are so sorry for your loss.
Coach Ashcroft: Indeed, Margaret. And David, you know where my office is if you need
a buddy, got it? You don't have to go through this alone. We're a team, remember?
David: Thanks coach, Mrs. Ashcroft. [Smiles slightly and then looks away out the window]
[Coach and Mrs. Ashcroft approach the casket]
Ms. Fauré: [Discretely pointing and whispering] Oh, David! There's that Alison Frank! Alex
always did fancy her. [Smiling] Isn't she pretty?
David: Yeah, she's very pretty, Mrs. Fauré.
Mrs. Fauré: Alex always liked Alison - as long as I can remember. When they were in first
grade, he used to pull her hair and call her "pig face". It was love at first sight I think.
June: [To Mrs. Fauré] Deborah, I am so sorry for your loss. Is there anything we can do?
Mrs. Fauré: June, thanks so much for coming. I'll be ok. Thank you so much for asking.
[Patting June's hands and smiling]
June: Well, it's the least we can do...
Ward: Yes, Deborah. After June lost her dad last winter we were so grateful for the wonderful
support from you and your family. If there's anything we can do, please, don't hesitate
to ask. [Leans over and sympathetically rubs Mrs. Fauré's shoulder]
Mrs. Fauré: Oh, don't worry about me. It makes the house a bit smaller, but things will work
out. They always have a way of doing that.
[Ward and June nod in agreement as they walk to the casket to pay their respects]
[Sighing] What awful people.
David: Aww, they were nice. How can you say that?
Mrs. Fauré: Oh, please. You want to know what kind of 'support' we gave them when June's
dad died?
David: [Shrugging]
Mrs. Fauré: We sent them a gift box of sausages and cheese.
David: [Laughing] Really?
Mrs. Fauré: Completely. Now they show up everywhere. How was I supposed to know that
we were the only people making such a gesture?
David: Well, you have to see the irony in all of this?
Mrs. Fauré: I'd feel better wth peace rather than irony. I don't need anything else to remind
me of those two. Still, it was nice of them to come by even if it was a continuation of
their stalker-like habits, wasn't it?
David: Indeed.
Mrs. Fauré: [Standing] Ok, this is it. This is the moment I was avoiding.
David: You mean you're not going to hide here in the corner with me anymore?
Mrs. Fauré:I'm sorry, David, but I have a son to grieve over now. [Pauses] I can see why my
Alex loved you so much, David. He was always looking for something....[Thinks for
the right word for a moment]...uncommon. I think that's the way I would describe
it. Come by and see me every once in a while?
David: Of course. [Stands and embraces her]
Mrs. Fauré: [Hugs him and kisses his cheek; turns and approaches the casket]
Mom: [Enters and crosses the room to her son, David] How ya' doing, kiddo?
David: I'm allright.
Mom: [Looking at Mrs. Fauré] That poor woman. [Daydreams for a moment
and then sighs] Well, I just wanted to check up on you.
David: I'm O.K. I'm about done here. Give me another ten to fifteen.
Mom: [Sympathetically] Ok, your father and I will be just outside in the car.
[Exit Mom]
[Exit Mrs. Fauré]
David: [Looks around] Well, buddy, looks like it's just you and me!
[Hesitantly approaches the casket and looks into it]
I do believe that's the first time I remember you not having a shit-eating grin
on your face. Well, that and the time coach caught you peeking in on the girls
dressing room. Grabbed you and lifted you in the air by your back belt loop.
Man, I don't think your eyes were never quite right after you pulled your
skivvies out of your ass.
[Chuckles]
On the other hand, you did get a rather intimate kiss from his daughter after
you recovered. So, I guess you got the last laugh,...
[Despondent and Persnickety] ...son of a bitch! [Pauses] I never got anywhere
with those girls...
Alex: Neither did I.
David: ...and yet you seemed to have this innate ability....
[Alarmed and confused, David pauses]
Is someone there? Hello?
[Dismissively] Yeah, well, even if I did actually hear that I'd be sure you were
full of shit as usual.Case in point, you know what Charleen Dempsey and I were
doing while you and Adele Reese were 'Bobbing for Cherries'?
Alex: No, not actually.
David: Yeah, well, we were playing Bomberman 64. And I was getting my ass handed
to me...OH NOW COME ON!! I heard you that time! Who's here?!
[Looks around the room frantically]
Alex: Whoa, buddy! Calm down! [Grabs David by the shoulders and stares him in
in the eyes] It's me!
David: [Staring] Alex? No...no this can't be? But you're dead? You're in that casket right
there!
Alex: [Looking in the casket] Damn! I look good, man. Why is it that I had to get hit by
a car walking down the street to get a nice suit?
David: You know all that stuff I was just sayin'? Yeah, well, I was just messin' around.
Alex: [Raises his eyebrow] Relax, man. I won't tell anybody, I swear.
David: Ok, so what now? You just hang around and torment me and make me crazy until
I join you in the alternate dimension? Is that your plan?
Alex: Sometimes you can be a real dick, man. Can't you see that I don't know why I am
here? I was floating along a few minutes ago when everything dissolved around me
and I saw you. Then after another minute or two I dropped out and into the room.
So, quit with all the love for God's sake.
David: Damn, man, my bad. It's just...I don't know what to say! Am I supposed to be all
like, 'Welcome back' or should I be shitting myself. I'm just really confused right now.
Alex: Tell me about it. Hey, you really want to know what Adele and I were doing? We
were doing push-ups, man.
David: Bullshit. You were not.
Alex: I swear to God, man. I get into the back room with her thinking I was about to
bury my face into that gorgeous set, and all of a sudden she starts talking about
how she's stronger than I am. Naturally, I have to defend my honor, so we end up
doing push-ups for fifteen minutes or so.
David: How many did you do?
Alex: I don't know...57? 58? It's not important.
David: How many did she do?
Alex: Listen! It's not important.
David: No, seriously, how many did she do?
Alex: Man, I don't know...I don't remember!
David: She beat your ass didn't she?
Alex: Me? Naa! Man, I totally took care of business.
[Looks at David and starts laughing] Ok, yeah, you got me. She beat me by
like eight or nine. But if you tell anyone, I swear I will haunt your ass until eternity.
David: Ok, man, I promise! But you're telling me you didn't even get a peek?
Alex: Not a stitch, man.
David: Damn.
Alex: Meh.
David: Oh, hey, you should've seen Alison Frank today. Man., she was lookin'
F-I-N-E fine!
Alex: Oh, well, that was cool that she came. Hey, did her brother happen to show up?
David: Tom? I don't think so, no.
Alex: Oh. I would've thought he'd have shown up.
David: Why's that? It's not like you two were friends or anything.
Alex: What do you mean? Tom was cool, and we were friends.
David: Nothing. I just meant that I never saw you guys hang out. Besides, his kind doesn't
mix well with the football players.
Alex: His kind? Dude, that guy is way smart. If it wasn't for him, I'd have never gotten
that scholarship to play ball at Michigan State. And who knows? Maybe on to
the NFL! And I'd have him to thank for it.
David: Damn, sorry! [Sarcastically] I didn't realize he was your fuckin' boyfriend.
Alex: Yeah, well... I have a pretty good idea there's a few things you don't know.
David: Try me - you aren't that complicated.
Alex: Ok, asshole. You remember Bethany Hargrove?
David: The brunette with the pointy witches' nose and the heart-shaped ass?
Alex: The very one. Well, we got drunk one day out by her pool, and she starts coming
on to me. The only thing, I was not interested. She gets pisssed off and starts
yelling and telling me I'm gay and shit. You know how I got that scar on my leg?
That happened when she threw te vodka bottle down at my feet.
David: Damn...
Alex: Anyways, her brother comes out to see what all the commotion's about and sees
his drunk sister, a broken bottle of vodka, and some guy with three inches of glass
sticking out of his ankle.
David: [Laughing] But i thought you hooked up with her! I didn't know she beat your ass
with a vodka bottle.
Alex: No, it wasn't her.
David: [Stops laughing] Then who did you hook up with? Who else was there?
Alex: No, it was her brother.
David: Oh, fuck you, man. [Laughs] You came all the way from the grave to punk me?
You never could resist the chance, you sunuvabitch.
Alex: No, seriously, man. I hooked up with her brother.
David: [Shocked] ...
Alex: [Jokingly smug] See? Told you that you didn't know everything about me.
David: But everybody said you guys hooked up!
Alex: No, Bethany said we hooked up. The bitch walked in on me and her brother, still
drunk on vodka and pissed at me. I didn't know what to do! I had ever been in
that situation before. I panicked. She threatened to tell everyone! Man, I didn't
want to get kicked off the team. I didn't know how my friends, my family would
react to that. I was afraid, Ok? Bethany made me promise to let her tell everyone
that we hooked up and she agreed not to tell anyone.
David: You're right. You would have been thoroughly ostracized. I know mom would have
been upset. Dad would have me washed with steel wool just make sure it wasn't
catchy or something. It would have ruined Thanksgiving.
Alex: Well, you are taking this much better than I imagined.
David: I think you underestimate me, man. You're my friend, my bud, my...my bro'. Plus I
trust that you didn't want me that way.
Alex: Well, you're right there. You have no idea what it's been carrying that around with me
all these years. It's like a huge weight has been lifted off my chest.
David: What do you care now? You're dead.
Alex: Thanks for the reminder...dick!
[A comfortable silence lasts for about thirty seconds]
Hey, do me a favor?
David: Sure, man. Name it.
Alex: I have to go in a moment. When you remember me, try to remember me as simply
'Alex' - not 'gay Alex', eh?
David: Ok, now who's being the dick? [Smiles mischievously]
Alex: [Chuckles] Ok, fair enough. Hey? Buds?
David: You bet, man. [Extends his hand to shake Alex's hand]
Alex: That's all I get, you punk? [Smiling]
[David and Alex embrace, Alex patting David on the back]
Well....[Sighs]...take it easy, bro'
[Exit Alex]
[Enter Mom]
Mom: David? You coming? At this rate, we'll miss our reservations for dinner!
David: Yeah, on my way, Mom; right behind you.
[Exit Mom]
[David takes one last look in the casket, and then exits through the
same door as his mother.]
[End Scene I]
[End Act]
[Fade to black]
Invino Veritas
10/21/11
EOF
[Begin Act I]
[Begin Scene I]
[The guests and family are viewing the casket of the boy who died, Alex. His best friend,
David, is sitting off to the left beside a window waiting for everyone to leave so he can
say his final goodbyes. Alex's mother sits beside David.]
Amy: I am so sorry, David. Alex was a great guy, and it won't be the same seeing you
without him following right behind you. If you need someone to talk to, give me
a call.
David: [Wryly] Thanks, Amy. Thanks for coming.
[Amy approaches the casket to pay her respcts to Alex.]
Mrs. Ashcroft: It's a very lovely service, David. We are so sorry for your loss.
Coach Ashcroft: Indeed, Margaret. And David, you know where my office is if you need
a buddy, got it? You don't have to go through this alone. We're a team, remember?
David: Thanks coach, Mrs. Ashcroft. [Smiles slightly and then looks away out the window]
[Coach and Mrs. Ashcroft approach the casket]
Ms. Fauré: [Discretely pointing and whispering] Oh, David! There's that Alison Frank! Alex
always did fancy her. [Smiling] Isn't she pretty?
David: Yeah, she's very pretty, Mrs. Fauré.
Mrs. Fauré: Alex always liked Alison - as long as I can remember. When they were in first
grade, he used to pull her hair and call her "pig face". It was love at first sight I think.
June: [To Mrs. Fauré] Deborah, I am so sorry for your loss. Is there anything we can do?
Mrs. Fauré: June, thanks so much for coming. I'll be ok. Thank you so much for asking.
[Patting June's hands and smiling]
June: Well, it's the least we can do...
Ward: Yes, Deborah. After June lost her dad last winter we were so grateful for the wonderful
support from you and your family. If there's anything we can do, please, don't hesitate
to ask. [Leans over and sympathetically rubs Mrs. Fauré's shoulder]
Mrs. Fauré: Oh, don't worry about me. It makes the house a bit smaller, but things will work
out. They always have a way of doing that.
[Ward and June nod in agreement as they walk to the casket to pay their respects]
[Sighing] What awful people.
David: Aww, they were nice. How can you say that?
Mrs. Fauré: Oh, please. You want to know what kind of 'support' we gave them when June's
dad died?
David: [Shrugging]
Mrs. Fauré: We sent them a gift box of sausages and cheese.
David: [Laughing] Really?
Mrs. Fauré: Completely. Now they show up everywhere. How was I supposed to know that
we were the only people making such a gesture?
David: Well, you have to see the irony in all of this?
Mrs. Fauré: I'd feel better wth peace rather than irony. I don't need anything else to remind
me of those two. Still, it was nice of them to come by even if it was a continuation of
their stalker-like habits, wasn't it?
David: Indeed.
Mrs. Fauré: [Standing] Ok, this is it. This is the moment I was avoiding.
David: You mean you're not going to hide here in the corner with me anymore?
Mrs. Fauré:I'm sorry, David, but I have a son to grieve over now. [Pauses] I can see why my
Alex loved you so much, David. He was always looking for something....[Thinks for
the right word for a moment]...uncommon. I think that's the way I would describe
it. Come by and see me every once in a while?
David: Of course. [Stands and embraces her]
Mrs. Fauré: [Hugs him and kisses his cheek; turns and approaches the casket]
Mom: [Enters and crosses the room to her son, David] How ya' doing, kiddo?
David: I'm allright.
Mom: [Looking at Mrs. Fauré] That poor woman. [Daydreams for a moment
and then sighs] Well, I just wanted to check up on you.
David: I'm O.K. I'm about done here. Give me another ten to fifteen.
Mom: [Sympathetically] Ok, your father and I will be just outside in the car.
[Exit Mom]
[Exit Mrs. Fauré]
David: [Looks around] Well, buddy, looks like it's just you and me!
[Hesitantly approaches the casket and looks into it]
I do believe that's the first time I remember you not having a shit-eating grin
on your face. Well, that and the time coach caught you peeking in on the girls
dressing room. Grabbed you and lifted you in the air by your back belt loop.
Man, I don't think your eyes were never quite right after you pulled your
skivvies out of your ass.
[Chuckles]
On the other hand, you did get a rather intimate kiss from his daughter after
you recovered. So, I guess you got the last laugh,...
[Despondent and Persnickety] ...son of a bitch! [Pauses] I never got anywhere
with those girls...
Alex: Neither did I.
David: ...and yet you seemed to have this innate ability....
[Alarmed and confused, David pauses]
Is someone there? Hello?
[Dismissively] Yeah, well, even if I did actually hear that I'd be sure you were
full of shit as usual.Case in point, you know what Charleen Dempsey and I were
doing while you and Adele Reese were 'Bobbing for Cherries'?
Alex: No, not actually.
David: Yeah, well, we were playing Bomberman 64. And I was getting my ass handed
to me...OH NOW COME ON!! I heard you that time! Who's here?!
[Looks around the room frantically]
Alex: Whoa, buddy! Calm down! [Grabs David by the shoulders and stares him in
in the eyes] It's me!
David: [Staring] Alex? No...no this can't be? But you're dead? You're in that casket right
there!
Alex: [Looking in the casket] Damn! I look good, man. Why is it that I had to get hit by
a car walking down the street to get a nice suit?
David: You know all that stuff I was just sayin'? Yeah, well, I was just messin' around.
Alex: [Raises his eyebrow] Relax, man. I won't tell anybody, I swear.
David: Ok, so what now? You just hang around and torment me and make me crazy until
I join you in the alternate dimension? Is that your plan?
Alex: Sometimes you can be a real dick, man. Can't you see that I don't know why I am
here? I was floating along a few minutes ago when everything dissolved around me
and I saw you. Then after another minute or two I dropped out and into the room.
So, quit with all the love for God's sake.
David: Damn, man, my bad. It's just...I don't know what to say! Am I supposed to be all
like, 'Welcome back' or should I be shitting myself. I'm just really confused right now.
Alex: Tell me about it. Hey, you really want to know what Adele and I were doing? We
were doing push-ups, man.
David: Bullshit. You were not.
Alex: I swear to God, man. I get into the back room with her thinking I was about to
bury my face into that gorgeous set, and all of a sudden she starts talking about
how she's stronger than I am. Naturally, I have to defend my honor, so we end up
doing push-ups for fifteen minutes or so.
David: How many did you do?
Alex: I don't know...57? 58? It's not important.
David: How many did she do?
Alex: Listen! It's not important.
David: No, seriously, how many did she do?
Alex: Man, I don't know...I don't remember!
David: She beat your ass didn't she?
Alex: Me? Naa! Man, I totally took care of business.
[Looks at David and starts laughing] Ok, yeah, you got me. She beat me by
like eight or nine. But if you tell anyone, I swear I will haunt your ass until eternity.
David: Ok, man, I promise! But you're telling me you didn't even get a peek?
Alex: Not a stitch, man.
David: Damn.
Alex: Meh.
David: Oh, hey, you should've seen Alison Frank today. Man., she was lookin'
F-I-N-E fine!
Alex: Oh, well, that was cool that she came. Hey, did her brother happen to show up?
David: Tom? I don't think so, no.
Alex: Oh. I would've thought he'd have shown up.
David: Why's that? It's not like you two were friends or anything.
Alex: What do you mean? Tom was cool, and we were friends.
David: Nothing. I just meant that I never saw you guys hang out. Besides, his kind doesn't
mix well with the football players.
Alex: His kind? Dude, that guy is way smart. If it wasn't for him, I'd have never gotten
that scholarship to play ball at Michigan State. And who knows? Maybe on to
the NFL! And I'd have him to thank for it.
David: Damn, sorry! [Sarcastically] I didn't realize he was your fuckin' boyfriend.
Alex: Yeah, well... I have a pretty good idea there's a few things you don't know.
David: Try me - you aren't that complicated.
Alex: Ok, asshole. You remember Bethany Hargrove?
David: The brunette with the pointy witches' nose and the heart-shaped ass?
Alex: The very one. Well, we got drunk one day out by her pool, and she starts coming
on to me. The only thing, I was not interested. She gets pisssed off and starts
yelling and telling me I'm gay and shit. You know how I got that scar on my leg?
That happened when she threw te vodka bottle down at my feet.
David: Damn...
Alex: Anyways, her brother comes out to see what all the commotion's about and sees
his drunk sister, a broken bottle of vodka, and some guy with three inches of glass
sticking out of his ankle.
David: [Laughing] But i thought you hooked up with her! I didn't know she beat your ass
with a vodka bottle.
Alex: No, it wasn't her.
David: [Stops laughing] Then who did you hook up with? Who else was there?
Alex: No, it was her brother.
David: Oh, fuck you, man. [Laughs] You came all the way from the grave to punk me?
You never could resist the chance, you sunuvabitch.
Alex: No, seriously, man. I hooked up with her brother.
David: [Shocked] ...
Alex: [Jokingly smug] See? Told you that you didn't know everything about me.
David: But everybody said you guys hooked up!
Alex: No, Bethany said we hooked up. The bitch walked in on me and her brother, still
drunk on vodka and pissed at me. I didn't know what to do! I had ever been in
that situation before. I panicked. She threatened to tell everyone! Man, I didn't
want to get kicked off the team. I didn't know how my friends, my family would
react to that. I was afraid, Ok? Bethany made me promise to let her tell everyone
that we hooked up and she agreed not to tell anyone.
David: You're right. You would have been thoroughly ostracized. I know mom would have
been upset. Dad would have me washed with steel wool just make sure it wasn't
catchy or something. It would have ruined Thanksgiving.
Alex: Well, you are taking this much better than I imagined.
David: I think you underestimate me, man. You're my friend, my bud, my...my bro'. Plus I
trust that you didn't want me that way.
Alex: Well, you're right there. You have no idea what it's been carrying that around with me
all these years. It's like a huge weight has been lifted off my chest.
David: What do you care now? You're dead.
Alex: Thanks for the reminder...dick!
[A comfortable silence lasts for about thirty seconds]
Hey, do me a favor?
David: Sure, man. Name it.
Alex: I have to go in a moment. When you remember me, try to remember me as simply
'Alex' - not 'gay Alex', eh?
David: Ok, now who's being the dick? [Smiles mischievously]
Alex: [Chuckles] Ok, fair enough. Hey? Buds?
David: You bet, man. [Extends his hand to shake Alex's hand]
Alex: That's all I get, you punk? [Smiling]
[David and Alex embrace, Alex patting David on the back]
Well....[Sighs]...take it easy, bro'
[Exit Alex]
[Enter Mom]
Mom: David? You coming? At this rate, we'll miss our reservations for dinner!
David: Yeah, on my way, Mom; right behind you.
[Exit Mom]
[David takes one last look in the casket, and then exits through the
same door as his mother.]
[End Scene I]
[End Act]
[Fade to black]
Invino Veritas
10/21/11
EOF
Thursday, October 13, 2011
The Rapture And The Pride
I thought I would contribute to the conversation once.
They told me I shouldn't engage in things of which I had no knowledge.
So, I decided to engage in the activity of which they spake.
They told me I should stop because I wasn't good at it.
They thought I was stupid for trying.
They said I couldn't have known what I was thinking.
So, I listened to them talk about it.
I listened to the haters.
I listened to the likers.
I listened to those who didn't care.
I listened to the subjective critics.
I listened to the objective critics.
I formed my first opinion.
I joined the conversation again.
They said my conclusion wasn't logical.
So I studied logic.
I learned how to argue.
I learned to think critically.
I learned to research information.
I learned how to construct sound conclusions.
I formed my second opinion.
I joined the conversation again.
They told me I didn't live in the real world.
They told me I didn't know of which I spake.
I told them I had experience.
I told them I had logic.
They told me I had no skill.
So, I did it again.
And I worked at it.
No matter how bad I was.
No matter how I hated it.
No matter how much effort it took.
No matter how it made me feel.
No matter how it changed my attitude.
No matter how angry it made me.
Then I joined the conversation again.
I used my logic.
I used my experience.
I used my skill.
They told me I had no talent.
They told me I had no perspective.
I went to find perspective.
I altered my perspective.
I was still angry.
I was still tired.
I was still fruitless.
Things didn't look the same.
I didn't react the same.
I couldn't sense it the same way anymore.
But I had perspective.
And I didn't care anymore.
I had no more opinion.
But I joined the conversation anyways.
They said I was better.
They said they would teach me.
So I listened to them again.
I watched them some more.
I did what they did.
I did it like they did.
I cared again.
I gained perspective again.
I gained experience.
I gained skill.
I set logic upon the shelf.
They said I had some talent.
They invited me to join the conversation.
I was one of them.
Then the new kid came.
The new kid joined the conversation.
We told him he shouldn't engage in things of which he had no knowledge.
Wetold him he wasn't good at it.
We told him he was stupid for trying.
We told him he couldn't have known what he was thinking.
We told him he wasn't being logical.
We told him he didn't live in the real world.
We told him he didn't know of which he spake.
We told him he had no talent.
We told him he had no perspective.
He became angry.
He became tired.
He became fruitless.
He didn't react the same way anymore.
He didn't care anymore.
We told him we'd teach him.
He worked at it.
He began to care.
He had talent after all.
We invited him to the conversation.
He became one of us.
Together we were content for a while.
My mind wandered.
I found things didn't make much sense.
I tried to figure out why things didn't make sense.
Something was off.
Something was out of place.
Something was unbalanced.
I couldn't remember my logic.
I couldn't deconstruct the relationships.
I couldn't identify the causes.
I couldn't identify the results.
I couldn't think about anything but the conversation.
I couldn't remember what I used to do.
I couldn't remember who I used to be.
I couldn't remember...
Anything.
They told me I shouldn't engage in things of which I had no knowledge.
So, I decided to engage in the activity of which they spake.
They told me I should stop because I wasn't good at it.
They thought I was stupid for trying.
They said I couldn't have known what I was thinking.
So, I listened to them talk about it.
I listened to the haters.
I listened to the likers.
I listened to those who didn't care.
I listened to the subjective critics.
I listened to the objective critics.
I formed my first opinion.
I joined the conversation again.
They said my conclusion wasn't logical.
So I studied logic.
I learned how to argue.
I learned to think critically.
I learned to research information.
I learned how to construct sound conclusions.
I formed my second opinion.
I joined the conversation again.
They told me I didn't live in the real world.
They told me I didn't know of which I spake.
I told them I had experience.
I told them I had logic.
They told me I had no skill.
So, I did it again.
And I worked at it.
No matter how bad I was.
No matter how I hated it.
No matter how much effort it took.
No matter how it made me feel.
No matter how it changed my attitude.
No matter how angry it made me.
Then I joined the conversation again.
I used my logic.
I used my experience.
I used my skill.
They told me I had no talent.
They told me I had no perspective.
I went to find perspective.
I altered my perspective.
I was still angry.
I was still tired.
I was still fruitless.
Things didn't look the same.
I didn't react the same.
I couldn't sense it the same way anymore.
But I had perspective.
And I didn't care anymore.
I had no more opinion.
But I joined the conversation anyways.
They said I was better.
They said they would teach me.
So I listened to them again.
I watched them some more.
I did what they did.
I did it like they did.
I cared again.
I gained perspective again.
I gained experience.
I gained skill.
I set logic upon the shelf.
They said I had some talent.
They invited me to join the conversation.
I was one of them.
Then the new kid came.
The new kid joined the conversation.
We told him he shouldn't engage in things of which he had no knowledge.
Wetold him he wasn't good at it.
We told him he was stupid for trying.
We told him he couldn't have known what he was thinking.
We told him he wasn't being logical.
We told him he didn't live in the real world.
We told him he didn't know of which he spake.
We told him he had no talent.
We told him he had no perspective.
He became angry.
He became tired.
He became fruitless.
He didn't react the same way anymore.
He didn't care anymore.
We told him we'd teach him.
He worked at it.
He began to care.
He had talent after all.
We invited him to the conversation.
He became one of us.
Together we were content for a while.
My mind wandered.
I found things didn't make much sense.
I tried to figure out why things didn't make sense.
Something was off.
Something was out of place.
Something was unbalanced.
I couldn't remember my logic.
I couldn't deconstruct the relationships.
I couldn't identify the causes.
I couldn't identify the results.
I couldn't think about anything but the conversation.
I couldn't remember what I used to do.
I couldn't remember who I used to be.
I couldn't remember...
Anything.
Friday, October 7, 2011
Random Mental Purgings
It's shaping up to be one of those crazy days, therefore I submit for your viewing pleasure and because I have to get this stuff out of my head somehow:
1. When chickens eat meat, what do they compare it to?
2. Despite what you may think, the seaside community of Phuket, Thailand is not
pronounced as "fuck it" contrary to popular belief. I was verily enlightened last
night at the Thai restaraunt.
3. So there's this 8 track car stereo for sale in the state for 50 bucks. I'm tempted
to buy it and roll up into work one day blasting some hi-fi goodness in the form
of something like Chicago IX or some classic KISS albums. Can you imagine
that? "Hey man! What's wrong?! You don't like the BEE GEES?!"
4. I shouldn't feel this good. Maybe it's the thai food I had last night because it sure
as hell wasn't the three shots of tequila, six beers, two shots of Jagermeister and
a shot of Rumplemintz that is making me feel this good today.
5. By the way, the answer to the followup question resulting from the above entry
is "No."
6. Is there anything else that comes in pilafs? Is rice the only thing that can be
described in terms of a pilaf? I don't ever recall having a pilaf of bean curd, or
maybe a pilaf of iron ore. In this case, if we just shortened the term 'rice pilaf' to '
pilaf' then, by default, it should uncondtionally refer to rice, right? In other words,
using the word 'rice' to describe a pilaf is really superfluous and even wordy.
7. Paging Mr. Orwell: white courtesy phone. Mr. Orwell, white courtesy phone.
8. It's comical to me how supposedly educated and intelligent people can describe
things or even interpret events and elements in their environments. For example, I
get into work today and the first service call I receive is to replace a tension spring
on a receipt printer. Ok, that's easy, but each service call should come with a
description of the problem from the client's own technician. The technician's
description is as follows: "Tension spring is missing and broken." Now, how in the
hell does he know the spring is broken if it's missing? He can only assume that it's
broken, but he cannot know for sure unless the spring was a.) not missing at one
time at the time it was no longer part of the printer, and b.) if he observed the
spring at that moment as being broken. For now, we'll ignore the other minor
assumptions.
9. People automate their thinking too often, methinks. Perhaps that's what makes it
so easy to pass the buck for some people. It's too easy to avoid the tough things
or the things that require higher or even greater amounts of mental effort. In all
fairness, though, you cannot be expeced to know and do everything. But a common
problem with this practice is we often miss crucial bis of information because we
mentally skip ahead to what we think is the next step. For example, in performing
repetitive or common tasks, it's too easy to stick an extra link in the chain of events.
doing this upsets the timing or the process of getting from one end of the chain to the
other. Imagine, if you will, that day after day you drive your car to work the same way.
After a few weeks, you may begin to not even remember certain points of the route
only because it has become so common place that your brain has filtered out the details
it feels is necessary. Ok, now the next day a cow walks across the road in a random act
of universal chaos. You are in your state of assumtion or automation, and BLAMMO!!
You hit the car because you weren't really paying attention. Is that your fault? Probably
not. You didn't consciously decide to filter out information. On the the other hand, you
weren't exactly spending the extra effort to delay, if not turn off, your filters. In that
respect, yes, it's your fault.
10. Ow! I just stuck a flathead screwdriver through the tip of my middle finger. I imagine
it will be fine with the amount of alcohol we use around here.
11. I have transcended mere mashed potatoes and gravy. In using french fries with gravy,
I have better control over the flow of the gravy while keeping with the time honored
tradition of potatoes and gravy. This could very well be the start of a beautiful
friendship, as it would be. This could be the beginning of a storied duet of epic
proportion, a mountain of power, an idyllic reprise of faith and devotion to all that is
tasty, a marriage made in heaven, or equivalent to a gallon of awesomesauce.
12. Yes, I just said 'awesomesauce'. Can you dig it?
13. Nope, we can't end on #13. Must move to #14 here.
14. And The Lord said, "14 shall be the number and no more nor no less shall the
number be. Wait I've got to take this. Mmhmm. Mmhmm. Yes. Yes. Not yet. Ok.
I got it. Ok, love you, too, Mom. Buh-bye. Ok, everybody, we're going to keep
going. Thanks for all your patience!"
15. I think the guy who played Bill S. Preston, Esquire in Bill & Ted's Excellent
Adventure should have had (more) lines in the movie The Lost Boys. Maybe.
1. When chickens eat meat, what do they compare it to?
2. Despite what you may think, the seaside community of Phuket, Thailand is not
pronounced as "fuck it" contrary to popular belief. I was verily enlightened last
night at the Thai restaraunt.
3. So there's this 8 track car stereo for sale in the state for 50 bucks. I'm tempted
to buy it and roll up into work one day blasting some hi-fi goodness in the form
of something like Chicago IX or some classic KISS albums. Can you imagine
that? "Hey man! What's wrong?! You don't like the BEE GEES?!"
4. I shouldn't feel this good. Maybe it's the thai food I had last night because it sure
as hell wasn't the three shots of tequila, six beers, two shots of Jagermeister and
a shot of Rumplemintz that is making me feel this good today.
5. By the way, the answer to the followup question resulting from the above entry
is "No."
6. Is there anything else that comes in pilafs? Is rice the only thing that can be
described in terms of a pilaf? I don't ever recall having a pilaf of bean curd, or
maybe a pilaf of iron ore. In this case, if we just shortened the term 'rice pilaf' to '
pilaf' then, by default, it should uncondtionally refer to rice, right? In other words,
using the word 'rice' to describe a pilaf is really superfluous and even wordy.
7. Paging Mr. Orwell: white courtesy phone. Mr. Orwell, white courtesy phone.
8. It's comical to me how supposedly educated and intelligent people can describe
things or even interpret events and elements in their environments. For example, I
get into work today and the first service call I receive is to replace a tension spring
on a receipt printer. Ok, that's easy, but each service call should come with a
description of the problem from the client's own technician. The technician's
description is as follows: "Tension spring is missing and broken." Now, how in the
hell does he know the spring is broken if it's missing? He can only assume that it's
broken, but he cannot know for sure unless the spring was a.) not missing at one
time at the time it was no longer part of the printer, and b.) if he observed the
spring at that moment as being broken. For now, we'll ignore the other minor
assumptions.
9. People automate their thinking too often, methinks. Perhaps that's what makes it
so easy to pass the buck for some people. It's too easy to avoid the tough things
or the things that require higher or even greater amounts of mental effort. In all
fairness, though, you cannot be expeced to know and do everything. But a common
problem with this practice is we often miss crucial bis of information because we
mentally skip ahead to what we think is the next step. For example, in performing
repetitive or common tasks, it's too easy to stick an extra link in the chain of events.
doing this upsets the timing or the process of getting from one end of the chain to the
other. Imagine, if you will, that day after day you drive your car to work the same way.
After a few weeks, you may begin to not even remember certain points of the route
only because it has become so common place that your brain has filtered out the details
it feels is necessary. Ok, now the next day a cow walks across the road in a random act
of universal chaos. You are in your state of assumtion or automation, and BLAMMO!!
You hit the car because you weren't really paying attention. Is that your fault? Probably
not. You didn't consciously decide to filter out information. On the the other hand, you
weren't exactly spending the extra effort to delay, if not turn off, your filters. In that
respect, yes, it's your fault.
10. Ow! I just stuck a flathead screwdriver through the tip of my middle finger. I imagine
it will be fine with the amount of alcohol we use around here.
11. I have transcended mere mashed potatoes and gravy. In using french fries with gravy,
I have better control over the flow of the gravy while keeping with the time honored
tradition of potatoes and gravy. This could very well be the start of a beautiful
friendship, as it would be. This could be the beginning of a storied duet of epic
proportion, a mountain of power, an idyllic reprise of faith and devotion to all that is
tasty, a marriage made in heaven, or equivalent to a gallon of awesomesauce.
12. Yes, I just said 'awesomesauce'. Can you dig it?
13. Nope, we can't end on #13. Must move to #14 here.
14. And The Lord said, "14 shall be the number and no more nor no less shall the
number be. Wait I've got to take this. Mmhmm. Mmhmm. Yes. Yes. Not yet. Ok.
I got it. Ok, love you, too, Mom. Buh-bye. Ok, everybody, we're going to keep
going. Thanks for all your patience!"
15. I think the guy who played Bill S. Preston, Esquire in Bill & Ted's Excellent
Adventure should have had (more) lines in the movie The Lost Boys. Maybe.
Thursday, October 6, 2011
Siena Root's Far From The Sun (2008) : A Review
The past week or so has been quite uneventful to the point of being a lull. When this happens, (and it happens occasionally), I can feel the very soul of my creative outpouring quiver and pass out like a junkie who just climaxed. In fact, that may a more accurate description than I care to accept at this point. Creatvity is addictive, and should you find yourself in the auspcious position to create something that is, indeed, pleasant to yourself (if not someone else) then I invite youto pause right before that highpoint and simply enjoy the moment before you crash like a skier rolling over a slope of moguls. If you do that, I have no doubt that you will become addicted to your own creativity. Anyways, this "lull" has lasted for a couple of weeks thusfar, so when I woke up this morning it was no surprise that I felt pretty uninspired. As my head loosened itself from the over-squashed lump of fluff that is my pillow, I rose to meet the day at the halfway point. (As of late, me and the day have an understanding: I don't mess with it, and it doesn't mess with me.) I reconfimred my agreement with the impending day, and soon got ready for work, keeping in my mind the time table under which I was bound. I soon found myself running late, and stretched across my face was this Charlie Brown-esque grimace at the memories of sleep and the anticipation of having to do work. As I cleared the umbrella of interference from the local radio waves, I turned on my little Sony MP3 player and let it build its library. I then powered up my cheap-o RF transmitter connected to my MP3 player. I then tuned the radio accordingly. As not to loose my understanding of where I was while driving, I quickly allowed my consciousness and eyes dart back up to the road like a horny hummingbird as I waited for the library creation of my toys to take place. I breathed one hard sigh as fruition was realized, and punched the play button. After a short delay, sweet music rang. Ahh, and what's better is it was good music, too.
By this time, you're probably wondering, "What's so special about the music this time?" I have to admit I wasn't really just pumped about driving and listening to music as I do it almost everyday, and my head was filled with things that weren't terribly pleasant. It was pretty hard to get myself motivated. One might expect somebody in my frame of mind to listen to something, perhaps, a little more emo or whiney (if there's even a difference). But, no. Not at all. In fact, I had been listening to Siena Root's Far From The Sun. Now, let me tell you about this album. I guess I decided to write a review about this album when I first heard the album's fourth track, Almost There. I was floored at such a soulful piece of elegance and fond remembrance of an earlier time. The song was like that first time I ever had a beer with my grandfather or how I remember that first cigarette felt, that cherry buzz. I think I felt my fingertips tingle for a moment. Almost There transported me on a cloud of mushroom gas back to the stoner rock of the late 1960's. (Let's face it, even though it wasn't called "stoner rock", that's what it was. Admit it.)
Far From The Sun begins with a cowbell and with a traditional rock riff straight out of 1974, and never looks back. The entire album is game for several instruments from guitar to organ to even sitar and flute. As the songs roll over and over one another, I feel like I got kicked in the balls by Jethro Tull and Jimmy Page as they each told me to wake up and smell the mushroom vapor I rode in on. Siena Root's Far From The Sun is a wonderful medley of aparent influences like Jethro Tull, Led Zeppelin, and The Beatles. The instruments are raw like their sound. The texture of each song runs several layers deep. For example, by the time the second song, Waiting for the Sun rolls around, the listener is taken to a caravan in India with a long intro jam and a sitar as its highlighted instrument. Climaxing with a stutter, the jam turns into simple, yet fun, rock groove. Tieing the groove together like a brand new pair of moccasins is the soulful voice of Sartez Faraj drifting on a current of psychedelia an extra two or three miles long.
By the time we get to the third song of eight, Time Will Tell, we really begin to understand Siena Root as an artist. Starting at first simple, this song is peeled back like an onion, layer after layer as the journey continues in a line sort of like a wormhole. The journey appears to be in a straight line, but there is no guarantee of any such thing. The world of rock dissolves after a moment into a breakdown and change drifting off into the great unknown, and then vaulting the listener into a reprise. As the third song is cleared leaving us shaking our head in agreement and acceptance, Almost There smacks us in the face to remind us that the best is yet to come. This tune is thickly layered with great, fat organ sounds and a gritty, raw psychedelic guitar slicing through everything like a snake over the surface of the water. Somewhere in the middle of Almost There, even the band realizes they must lay back and enjoy the moment and let the groove sit on top of things for a moment like the fog over a Scottish lake. But just to keep things honest, the moment clears with a spike of rock and roll riffwork leading into a solo made of grass and a vial of blood summoned from the veins of Ritchie Blackmore.
To let the listener recover from the overexposure to so much rock, Siena Root puts the bus on cruise control with their fifth song, Two Steps Backwards. This song is an "f'n rock song". Sit back enjoy the fat analog sounds of the 60's and 70's erupting into your front seat like a hot dog in your microwave as it leads you to pick back up on the rock journey. Then, Wishing For More breaks through to give you some lovin' with a catchy rock riff to carry the backbone of the tune along with the bass. Just out of the range of normal consciousness is the harmonica accompaniment that at first my mind actually said, "What hell is that? Oh, well that was unexpected." At this point, I looked down at my speedometer, and saw that it was a bit elevated. "This song is a lot of fun" I remember thinking. With a warm fuzzy feeling, the next song broke into the air with a depth and fat not yet heard on Far From The Sun, giving way to a soft medley of vocals and great accompaniment from a lone flute. Offsetting the strangely "gaelic rock" mood is what I will call "The Siena Root Rock Yo' Father's Face Off" sound. Faceless and content, I wander, dazed from the seventh song, The Summer Is Old, to the eighth which starts with an honest groove. In The Break of Dawn, the flute and guitar come together as if taunting each other, vieing with one another for the spotlight, evenutally compromising in a strange dance together. And then, suddenly, the album ends as the two instruments seem to leave off into the sunset together.
Siena Root's Far From The Sun is a marvel and a pleasure to which I enjoy listening. Their comprehensive walthrough of psychedelic rock and attention to detail is second to little outside of those icons of the 60's and 70's that set the stage for people like you, me, and Siena Root to do what they do and discover. This album is completely chock full of instruments, too. Generally, a rock album of this type will be limited to drums, guitar, bass, and some vocals. You might get a miniscule amount of keyboards, but that really is usually no more than a bit of CGI work in modern action movies. But with Siena Root, you get a large collage of sounds and instruments from around the world including, but not limited to, the sitar, the flute, the hudy-gurdy, the organ, harmonica, and bansuri (another type of flute from Bangladesh, India, and Nepal). So, if you decide, go grab yourself a couple of purple and green party lights, and a lava lamp. Find a nice, dark, smoky room and slip into some colored sunglasses. Bring out the tweezers, lay back and grab a beer. Press play, and enjoy the ride. This is a good album for it.
By this time, you're probably wondering, "What's so special about the music this time?" I have to admit I wasn't really just pumped about driving and listening to music as I do it almost everyday, and my head was filled with things that weren't terribly pleasant. It was pretty hard to get myself motivated. One might expect somebody in my frame of mind to listen to something, perhaps, a little more emo or whiney (if there's even a difference). But, no. Not at all. In fact, I had been listening to Siena Root's Far From The Sun. Now, let me tell you about this album. I guess I decided to write a review about this album when I first heard the album's fourth track, Almost There. I was floored at such a soulful piece of elegance and fond remembrance of an earlier time. The song was like that first time I ever had a beer with my grandfather or how I remember that first cigarette felt, that cherry buzz. I think I felt my fingertips tingle for a moment. Almost There transported me on a cloud of mushroom gas back to the stoner rock of the late 1960's. (Let's face it, even though it wasn't called "stoner rock", that's what it was. Admit it.)
Far From The Sun begins with a cowbell and with a traditional rock riff straight out of 1974, and never looks back. The entire album is game for several instruments from guitar to organ to even sitar and flute. As the songs roll over and over one another, I feel like I got kicked in the balls by Jethro Tull and Jimmy Page as they each told me to wake up and smell the mushroom vapor I rode in on. Siena Root's Far From The Sun is a wonderful medley of aparent influences like Jethro Tull, Led Zeppelin, and The Beatles. The instruments are raw like their sound. The texture of each song runs several layers deep. For example, by the time the second song, Waiting for the Sun rolls around, the listener is taken to a caravan in India with a long intro jam and a sitar as its highlighted instrument. Climaxing with a stutter, the jam turns into simple, yet fun, rock groove. Tieing the groove together like a brand new pair of moccasins is the soulful voice of Sartez Faraj drifting on a current of psychedelia an extra two or three miles long.
By the time we get to the third song of eight, Time Will Tell, we really begin to understand Siena Root as an artist. Starting at first simple, this song is peeled back like an onion, layer after layer as the journey continues in a line sort of like a wormhole. The journey appears to be in a straight line, but there is no guarantee of any such thing. The world of rock dissolves after a moment into a breakdown and change drifting off into the great unknown, and then vaulting the listener into a reprise. As the third song is cleared leaving us shaking our head in agreement and acceptance, Almost There smacks us in the face to remind us that the best is yet to come. This tune is thickly layered with great, fat organ sounds and a gritty, raw psychedelic guitar slicing through everything like a snake over the surface of the water. Somewhere in the middle of Almost There, even the band realizes they must lay back and enjoy the moment and let the groove sit on top of things for a moment like the fog over a Scottish lake. But just to keep things honest, the moment clears with a spike of rock and roll riffwork leading into a solo made of grass and a vial of blood summoned from the veins of Ritchie Blackmore.
To let the listener recover from the overexposure to so much rock, Siena Root puts the bus on cruise control with their fifth song, Two Steps Backwards. This song is an "f'n rock song". Sit back enjoy the fat analog sounds of the 60's and 70's erupting into your front seat like a hot dog in your microwave as it leads you to pick back up on the rock journey. Then, Wishing For More breaks through to give you some lovin' with a catchy rock riff to carry the backbone of the tune along with the bass. Just out of the range of normal consciousness is the harmonica accompaniment that at first my mind actually said, "What hell is that? Oh, well that was unexpected." At this point, I looked down at my speedometer, and saw that it was a bit elevated. "This song is a lot of fun" I remember thinking. With a warm fuzzy feeling, the next song broke into the air with a depth and fat not yet heard on Far From The Sun, giving way to a soft medley of vocals and great accompaniment from a lone flute. Offsetting the strangely "gaelic rock" mood is what I will call "The Siena Root Rock Yo' Father's Face Off" sound. Faceless and content, I wander, dazed from the seventh song, The Summer Is Old, to the eighth which starts with an honest groove. In The Break of Dawn, the flute and guitar come together as if taunting each other, vieing with one another for the spotlight, evenutally compromising in a strange dance together. And then, suddenly, the album ends as the two instruments seem to leave off into the sunset together.
Siena Root's Far From The Sun is a marvel and a pleasure to which I enjoy listening. Their comprehensive walthrough of psychedelic rock and attention to detail is second to little outside of those icons of the 60's and 70's that set the stage for people like you, me, and Siena Root to do what they do and discover. This album is completely chock full of instruments, too. Generally, a rock album of this type will be limited to drums, guitar, bass, and some vocals. You might get a miniscule amount of keyboards, but that really is usually no more than a bit of CGI work in modern action movies. But with Siena Root, you get a large collage of sounds and instruments from around the world including, but not limited to, the sitar, the flute, the hudy-gurdy, the organ, harmonica, and bansuri (another type of flute from Bangladesh, India, and Nepal). So, if you decide, go grab yourself a couple of purple and green party lights, and a lava lamp. Find a nice, dark, smoky room and slip into some colored sunglasses. Bring out the tweezers, lay back and grab a beer. Press play, and enjoy the ride. This is a good album for it.
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