9/27/02
12:57am
INSOMNIA, FRITZ THE CAT, AND SIX DEGREES OF KEVIN BACON
This is just the lowest I think I've ever gone in an attempt to fall asleep.
I'm switching channels back and forth between Phantasm: Oblivion and The Nine Lives of Fritz the Cat. Just shoot me now instead of putting me out to pasture.
OOOOOhhhh waait!!! The Phantom of the Opera starring Julian Sands is on! I am saved!
I don't think Julian Sands is capable of a bad movie. Strange movies, yes, but bad? Hardly. The eye candy factor alone is worth every second of his screen time. Yum.
And in this version of Phantom, he's not horribly disfigured, he was just raised by rats. And wow, what a good job those rats did with him. It's not Gaston LeReux, but it's just as skippy. I honestly couldn't even tell you anything about the rest of the movie except that I believed Mr. Sands was truly the Phantom of the Opera.
I was chatting online with a friend of mine, and realized I seem to attract some of the most poetic people ever. Or the most sensual, or both. It's all good. I like that. Keeps me sane. And speaking of insanity... Check this one out. This is why I stay up at night and fight sleep until I'm exhausted.
WEIRD DREAM
9-26-02
I'm at a party, and it's a huge party, and there's all these people all over the place.
At first I'm having a good time, hanging out with a few people that I know and chatting with new ones.
At some point we opened a window that looked more like a sliding glass door, and a bat got in. Chuck was trying to pet it, and I had to keep pulling him away because it looked like it had rabies.
I walk away and out into the party, and I'm having a good time. People are taking pictures, and a friend of mine is there. We hang out and have our pictures taken. I pose next to a statue of a smiling wedge of cheese, and comment on the cheesiness of it all. I think Kevin Bacon was the one taking the pictures.
The party seems almost like it's held in a mall, and there's got to be about two hundred people walking around. The colors are very vivid, and people are wearing costumes, but I can still see their faces. There's no masks.
I have a drink, and as I'm at the bar getting my drink, I see this chick (who looks like she's got nothing real on her, and a very obvious nose job) with MY wool sweater hidden under about three other coats from the party. So I tell her to give me back my coat. She denies it's my coat, saying it's cotton. I'm like, no it isn't, it's wool. We start to argue, and the bartender just looks at her and says, "Give the coat back."
I take my coat, and say, "It's a shame, for someone who spent so much money getting their face changed, you can't afford to buy your own coat."
I walk through the party, feeling vindicated, and Kevin Bacon is walking around trying to be the "life" of the party. He grabs me and he's hanging all over me, and at first it's funny. I push him off and keep going. I see a man sitting on a couch, watching the party, but not really interacting too much. I wonder who he is. He's dressed in dark clothes, but not black clothes. He doesn't seem to be having a good time, more like he's there to observe.
I walk past the man, and I can feel him watching me. I start to look for Chuck, and see him as he walks around a corner, headed around the bar toward where I had come from.
I pass through the area again, looking for Chuck, but I can't find him. I seem to remember we had two bats get into the house and he had been trying to play with them like they were our new pets. I assume he went off to get rabies shots.
As I'm going through the second time, I see the man sitting on the couch again, and he's watching me. I figure I'll go over and talk to him, see what's up. As I'm making my way over, Kevin Bacon once again appears out of nowhere and grabs me. He whispers in my ear something about me putting it out there and he's gonna take it. It wasn't intelligible, he seemed drunk, but I got the meaning and it scared me. He put his arm around my neck and pulled me close to his mouth, saying something in my ear.
I look at the man on the couch, and even he seems disturbed by this behavior. He looks as if he's about to get up to help me, but doesn't. Kevin Bacon has now started to pull at my clothes, and I tell him to get off me, but he laughs. I feel embarassed, ashamed, and angry. I tell him again, and smack him, but he hangs on. So I finally punch him in the face to get him away, and he falls off me.
The man on the couch salutes me with his drink and a small smile. I'm so embarassed that I run away without ever talking to the man. Now I just want to go home, and the party seems to get more out of control. People are dancing all over the place, most of them completely drunk. I run into my friend that I had been hanging out with, and we're sitting off in an alcove. She's trying to calm me down, and Kevin Bacon comes in. He walks up to me and apologizes, and I'm afraid he's going to try to get even.
Outside of the alcove the crowd starts to cheer, and Kevin Bacon is distracted by the cheering and goes to look at what's going on. My friend and I walk over, pushing our way through the crowd, and we see that they've made a milkshake fountain. It was some kind of chocolate vanilla mix. For some reason I feel insulted by this fountain and I look to see if Chuck can see this, but I don't see him. I tell my friend I'm going to look for Chuck.
Now I'm running through this insane party, trying to find Chuck, and see him at the end of a hallway. He's having such a great time that I feel bad telling him I want to go home. I walk over to him and decide at any rate, I'm going to stay by him the rest of the night, that way I won't get into any more situations.
The dream changes, and Chuck and I are looking at the Brady Bunch, and they're digging in the yard outside the house. They end up either hitting a water line or break open the septic tank, and all of this nasty muddy water gushes out.
Then there was something about someone getting into the house through that open window that let in the bat, but I don't remember the details. I think the phone rang at that point.
Friday, September 27, 2002
Wednesday, September 25, 2002
9/24/02
11:48pm
SCOOBY-DOO LOGIC
Weird title, I know, but it must be said.
Ghosts that laugh like loons in TV shows. What does it mean? Seriously. You ever notice how the evil ghosts on Scooby Doo laugh ALL THE TIME. They are some of the happiest people shown on television. My question is what is UP with that? Do I need to wait until _I'm_ dead so I can start laughing like that? Or does it make me evil BECAUSE I laugh like that while I'm alive? Think about it. Evil seems to laugh a lot on television. Does it enjoy its work? I'm thinking, yes. Yes it does. Evil has a lot of fun with what it does, AND it enjoys the work. Is this sending an adverse message to the youth of today, namely that happiness is evil? Hmmmm.....
It's not just a Scooby Doo phenomenon, either. Apparently it's a well-known fact somewhere in history that evil ghosts laugh uncontrollably and at the wrong times, and with no good reason. Is there nothing better in the afterlife, or is there some really great joke about life that they finally get the punchline to when they die, so they laugh and laugh and LAUGH? Maybe they were happy in life and decided to switch career paths. They could be deciding to branch out in another direction, like, say, a pious church-goer decides to branch out and work the dark side for a while. Just for a change of pace. Or maybe they all realized life was this really sick joke, and they DIED LAUGHING. Oh, irony. The very thing that killed them is what they have to do for eternity. Someone's got a sick sense of humor.
And if there is some unwritten rule that ghosts have to laugh maniacally, why do real hauntings not laugh? Maybe they're not getting a paycheck for their appearances?
Or... What if there's no real haunting anywhere? It's just ghosts assigned to work the circuit and it's a different ghost every time someone sees it, and the psychics are running around confused because there's ten ghosts in a house, and the ghosts are all laughing and sitting around the poor psychic playing Marco Polo??
When people say I have issues, I say, "No, I have SUBSCRIPTIONS."
11:48pm
SCOOBY-DOO LOGIC
Weird title, I know, but it must be said.
Ghosts that laugh like loons in TV shows. What does it mean? Seriously. You ever notice how the evil ghosts on Scooby Doo laugh ALL THE TIME. They are some of the happiest people shown on television. My question is what is UP with that? Do I need to wait until _I'm_ dead so I can start laughing like that? Or does it make me evil BECAUSE I laugh like that while I'm alive? Think about it. Evil seems to laugh a lot on television. Does it enjoy its work? I'm thinking, yes. Yes it does. Evil has a lot of fun with what it does, AND it enjoys the work. Is this sending an adverse message to the youth of today, namely that happiness is evil? Hmmmm.....
It's not just a Scooby Doo phenomenon, either. Apparently it's a well-known fact somewhere in history that evil ghosts laugh uncontrollably and at the wrong times, and with no good reason. Is there nothing better in the afterlife, or is there some really great joke about life that they finally get the punchline to when they die, so they laugh and laugh and LAUGH? Maybe they were happy in life and decided to switch career paths. They could be deciding to branch out in another direction, like, say, a pious church-goer decides to branch out and work the dark side for a while. Just for a change of pace. Or maybe they all realized life was this really sick joke, and they DIED LAUGHING. Oh, irony. The very thing that killed them is what they have to do for eternity. Someone's got a sick sense of humor.
And if there is some unwritten rule that ghosts have to laugh maniacally, why do real hauntings not laugh? Maybe they're not getting a paycheck for their appearances?
Or... What if there's no real haunting anywhere? It's just ghosts assigned to work the circuit and it's a different ghost every time someone sees it, and the psychics are running around confused because there's ten ghosts in a house, and the ghosts are all laughing and sitting around the poor psychic playing Marco Polo??
When people say I have issues, I say, "No, I have SUBSCRIPTIONS."
Monday, September 23, 2002
9/23/02
1:01pm
COMMUNION WAFERS: BREAD OF GOD, OR RE-PRESSED RICE CRISPIES?
OK, for all you church-goers who have experienced Communion. Haven't you done the math? Honestly. With what the church gets, not to mention the tax exempt status, you'd think they could afford to give you at least a light lunch in the name of God during mass, I mean, Jesus gave the people fish and loaves of bread, not thin little wafers of what tastes suspiciously like rice cakes.
But no, you sit there, never realizing until much later that the entire mass is actually a throwback from ancient witchcraft. Think about that one. Altar cloth, two white candles, a symbol of the faith, a bell, a book, a goblet, cross-buns... just think about it. Not to mention the four elements used in ceremonies: Incense, earth, water, and candles. Got all your basics for a nice coven right there. Only thing missing is a circle, and the priest saying, "Blessed be." at the end of the mass.
But I digress. I was raised Catholic, so I remember all too well sitting in masses on Sundays, back aching from those hard wooden pews, and STARVING. The priest would drone on and on about Jesus and those loaves of bread, and the fish, and I'm like, Hey, _I'm_ hungry, too, how about a filet-o-fish for me? By the time communion came along, I would have eaten the church pews, I was so hungry, so those tiny little wafers were pretty damned tasty at that point. As I got older I wisened up, though. Apparently it's not christian to ask for another body of christ or something... so I started to eat BEFORE I went to mass. No longer was my mind weak with hunger, and when I got the communion wafer I could analyze it. It tasted a lot like a certain breakfast cereal. Rice Crispies, in fact. And you're not supposed to CHEW the body of christ, so I had to sit there with this thing stuck on the roof of my mouth, waiting for it to dissolve. And the whole time I wondered two things to myself: Will the Host REALLy turn black and fly out of my mouth if I didn't confess before communion? was my first question, and the second was Does Jesus know he tastes like Rice Crispies?
As I got older I stopped going to church, needless to say. Yes, I still believe in a Supreme Being, just I have my own thoughts on the subject. It was just a lot more convenient for me to stay home on Sundays and eat a bowl of Rice Crispies, and listening to the three wise men, Snap, Crackle and Pop, I found they sounded a lot like the priest. I guess I was just born to be a heretic.
1:01pm
COMMUNION WAFERS: BREAD OF GOD, OR RE-PRESSED RICE CRISPIES?
OK, for all you church-goers who have experienced Communion. Haven't you done the math? Honestly. With what the church gets, not to mention the tax exempt status, you'd think they could afford to give you at least a light lunch in the name of God during mass, I mean, Jesus gave the people fish and loaves of bread, not thin little wafers of what tastes suspiciously like rice cakes.
But no, you sit there, never realizing until much later that the entire mass is actually a throwback from ancient witchcraft. Think about that one. Altar cloth, two white candles, a symbol of the faith, a bell, a book, a goblet, cross-buns... just think about it. Not to mention the four elements used in ceremonies: Incense, earth, water, and candles. Got all your basics for a nice coven right there. Only thing missing is a circle, and the priest saying, "Blessed be." at the end of the mass.
But I digress. I was raised Catholic, so I remember all too well sitting in masses on Sundays, back aching from those hard wooden pews, and STARVING. The priest would drone on and on about Jesus and those loaves of bread, and the fish, and I'm like, Hey, _I'm_ hungry, too, how about a filet-o-fish for me? By the time communion came along, I would have eaten the church pews, I was so hungry, so those tiny little wafers were pretty damned tasty at that point. As I got older I wisened up, though. Apparently it's not christian to ask for another body of christ or something... so I started to eat BEFORE I went to mass. No longer was my mind weak with hunger, and when I got the communion wafer I could analyze it. It tasted a lot like a certain breakfast cereal. Rice Crispies, in fact. And you're not supposed to CHEW the body of christ, so I had to sit there with this thing stuck on the roof of my mouth, waiting for it to dissolve. And the whole time I wondered two things to myself: Will the Host REALLy turn black and fly out of my mouth if I didn't confess before communion? was my first question, and the second was Does Jesus know he tastes like Rice Crispies?
As I got older I stopped going to church, needless to say. Yes, I still believe in a Supreme Being, just I have my own thoughts on the subject. It was just a lot more convenient for me to stay home on Sundays and eat a bowl of Rice Crispies, and listening to the three wise men, Snap, Crackle and Pop, I found they sounded a lot like the priest. I guess I was just born to be a heretic.
Sunday, September 22, 2002
9/22/02
8:31pm
WE'RE ON THE WAY TO BEING GAWDS
The NyQueen rides again! Screaming brilliant into a haze of cough and cold. Huzzah.
I know you'd laugh too, but it's not that funny anymore. Is it real or is it Photoshop?
Oooh.. the questions that float in the flow of our existence. Is this right or is it necessary? Oh, I could go on and on.
So here's some fun stuff I came up with last time. Granted, it's no Footie Pajama Trauma, but hell, it might be poetry worthy. At any rate, it isn't often I get to pull out the old NyQuill and put my thoughts to electronic paper in this way.
Dreaming dreams of forgotten things
Dead ghost streams
Leaves of skeleton trees
To be beyond the screams
In knowing is the Knowledge
Automatic writing
Words of dead men tell no tales
on bathroom walls
Secrets of Crowley in bathroom stalls
Preaching LaVey on street corners
Pushed by dead ears
away from the mainstream
Abstract and irrevocable
words of mindless drivel
dripping sliding into useless consciousness
Downward through the caverns of discontent
into the spiral
Into the fire
Rabid thinking
Thoughts unpurged
And impure
Defragging the frag
Out of my mind
8:31pm
WE'RE ON THE WAY TO BEING GAWDS
The NyQueen rides again! Screaming brilliant into a haze of cough and cold. Huzzah.
I know you'd laugh too, but it's not that funny anymore. Is it real or is it Photoshop?
Oooh.. the questions that float in the flow of our existence. Is this right or is it necessary? Oh, I could go on and on.
So here's some fun stuff I came up with last time. Granted, it's no Footie Pajama Trauma, but hell, it might be poetry worthy. At any rate, it isn't often I get to pull out the old NyQuill and put my thoughts to electronic paper in this way.
Dreaming dreams of forgotten things
Dead ghost streams
Leaves of skeleton trees
To be beyond the screams
In knowing is the Knowledge
Automatic writing
Words of dead men tell no tales
on bathroom walls
Secrets of Crowley in bathroom stalls
Preaching LaVey on street corners
Pushed by dead ears
away from the mainstream
Abstract and irrevocable
words of mindless drivel
dripping sliding into useless consciousness
Downward through the caverns of discontent
into the spiral
Into the fire
Rabid thinking
Thoughts unpurged
And impure
Defragging the frag
Out of my mind
9/22/02
1:28pm
FOOTIE PAJAMA TRAUMA
Maybe my siblings and I were the only ones to suffer this torment, but did anyone else out there have this happen as children? They were called BLANKET SLEEPERS. I swear, someday this will be put into my memoirs....
My parents were and still are good parents, I love them dearly. I just don't know what they were thinking putting small children into footie pajamas. ESPECIALLY when they KNOW we're gonna have to pee at least once in the night. And it's not like those pajamas were comfortable... it was like wearing fuzzy burlap! Yes, now that I'm a grown-up, NOW IT CAN BE TOLD!
The only thing worse than the blanket sleeper was getting into one after a bath. EEEeeeeewww. Like nails down a chalkboard it was. That nasty material would stick to me, and if I was REALLY lucky, my grandmother would put LOTION all over me after the bath. I never had the heart to tell her that it was worse than torture to be gooey with lotion and stuck into a blanket sleeper. Or should I say, stuck TO the blanket sleeper.
The worst part of the blanket sleeper was finally adjusting to the scritchiness, falling asleep all nice and warm, and then having to go to the bathroom. For the un-initiated to the blanket sleeper, there's a zipper that runs from the crotch to the neck. For boys, I dunno what they were thinking with that zipper placement, all I gotta say is, thank Gawd I didn't have body hair at the time. This zipper thing is supposed to make the sleeper more convenient, except no one stopped to think about the fact that if you're WEARING one of these things, it's because it's COLD. So in order to go to the bathroom, you have to unzip the whole thing and pull it off. So now you're nekkid and trying to pee on a cold toilet after this pajama just had you at 100 degrees. Riiight.
The only ones who seemed to be thinking were the inventors of the original footie-pajama. You know, the ones with the backdoor to them, so you didn't HAVE to take the whole thing off. The ones made of flannel and cotton instead of polyester. The ones that wouldn't melt onto you if you happened to spill really hot liquid on yourself, or melt into your skin if your cousin happened to have a magnifying glass and the sun was shining... but I digress. My point is that blanket sleepers were evil. The original cotton/flannel footie pajama is awesome.
So while I know my parents had the best of intentions, I suspect the intentions of the inventors of the blanket sleeper.
1:28pm
FOOTIE PAJAMA TRAUMA
Maybe my siblings and I were the only ones to suffer this torment, but did anyone else out there have this happen as children? They were called BLANKET SLEEPERS. I swear, someday this will be put into my memoirs....
My parents were and still are good parents, I love them dearly. I just don't know what they were thinking putting small children into footie pajamas. ESPECIALLY when they KNOW we're gonna have to pee at least once in the night. And it's not like those pajamas were comfortable... it was like wearing fuzzy burlap! Yes, now that I'm a grown-up, NOW IT CAN BE TOLD!
The only thing worse than the blanket sleeper was getting into one after a bath. EEEeeeeewww. Like nails down a chalkboard it was. That nasty material would stick to me, and if I was REALLY lucky, my grandmother would put LOTION all over me after the bath. I never had the heart to tell her that it was worse than torture to be gooey with lotion and stuck into a blanket sleeper. Or should I say, stuck TO the blanket sleeper.
The worst part of the blanket sleeper was finally adjusting to the scritchiness, falling asleep all nice and warm, and then having to go to the bathroom. For the un-initiated to the blanket sleeper, there's a zipper that runs from the crotch to the neck. For boys, I dunno what they were thinking with that zipper placement, all I gotta say is, thank Gawd I didn't have body hair at the time. This zipper thing is supposed to make the sleeper more convenient, except no one stopped to think about the fact that if you're WEARING one of these things, it's because it's COLD. So in order to go to the bathroom, you have to unzip the whole thing and pull it off. So now you're nekkid and trying to pee on a cold toilet after this pajama just had you at 100 degrees. Riiight.
The only ones who seemed to be thinking were the inventors of the original footie-pajama. You know, the ones with the backdoor to them, so you didn't HAVE to take the whole thing off. The ones made of flannel and cotton instead of polyester. The ones that wouldn't melt onto you if you happened to spill really hot liquid on yourself, or melt into your skin if your cousin happened to have a magnifying glass and the sun was shining... but I digress. My point is that blanket sleepers were evil. The original cotton/flannel footie pajama is awesome.
So while I know my parents had the best of intentions, I suspect the intentions of the inventors of the blanket sleeper.
Friday, September 20, 2002
NyQueen Additional:
Congratulations KEITHMEISTER!!!!!
One of my bestest best friends Keith R. Stevenson has earned #1 image on This Week in Pictures on MSNBC.com.
Check it out, he's the one of the policeman carrying the kid out of the burning building:
http://www.msnbc.com/modules/theweekinpictures/default.asp
Aka the Number 1 voted picture for the week. If only that kid had been holding an American flag....
Congratulations KEITHMEISTER!!!!!
One of my bestest best friends Keith R. Stevenson has earned #1 image on This Week in Pictures on MSNBC.com.
Check it out, he's the one of the policeman carrying the kid out of the burning building:
http://www.msnbc.com/modules/theweekinpictures/default.asp
Aka the Number 1 voted picture for the week. If only that kid had been holding an American flag....
9/20/02
7:01pm
THE UNSEELIE COURT
OK, Eric. This one's for you because you have kindly reminded me on several occasions just how I haven't given your movie an official review. So here it is... the official review, which will be posted to the website under the Reviews section as soon as I get off my deathbed. Who knew when I did such great book reports as a kid and great movie review in college that I would end up doing reviews as a full-time hobby? The irony, man. The irony.
All info about the Unseelie Court can be found at www.wyndfeather.com.
Title: The Unseelie Court
Release Date: 2002
Company: Dreamdancer Motion Pictures
First and foremost: this movie is an intellectual flick. There are no kickboxing sequences, no Jackie Chan fighting moves, and no leaping through the air like a japanimation while something explodes in the background. There is no Vin Diesel in this movie. And that's why I liked it so much. Because I HAD to pay attention.
The start is very unassuming, visually a beautiful film, and a damned good script. And here's the part that I love: the whole time it tiptoes gothically around being David Lynch-esque, but without stepping over the line. The whole scene is set on the rainy night, thunder and lightning set the mood like only good ghosts stories start. The ideas and beliefs of the main character are pushed to creepy levels through use of imagery and camera technique, driving his points home to the viewer in thunder cracks and lightning flashes.
Truly an artistic and beautifully done film, which is what I expect from Eric. :)
In other news....
I FINALLY UPDATED THE WEBSITE!!!! Go, view it and love it, at SmilingGoth.com.
As soon as I'm feeling better I'll update it even more. Did I mention my hella-cold? Oh yeah... summer colds SUCK. I've been on the sofa bed for the past three days. I get up to bathe, obviously, and spray everything in sight with Lysol (useless bit of trivia here, did you know Lysol used to be a feminine hygiene spray? Mmmmm... smell that fresh scent! And no, I don't use it as a feminine spray.)
I've been basking in the glow of the Fields of the Nephilim album. I have to say I'm LOVING it still, although I think Dante might be getting tired of it. His loss. I have to hear him snoring the same snore every night, so the least he can do is listen to the same album over and over until I get tired of it.
Since I got sick I've had the chance to observe comedic disasters. Like vet collars for dogs after they get stitches. Dogs with cones around their heads are HILARIOUS. It's like a person on crutches falling down a flight of stairs. Of course, if I was on crutches and fell down a flight of stairs, I might not find it funny until it was over.
Did I mention I went PLATINUM BLONDE? Strange coincidence, after I went blonde I got sick. As if my goth-ness is rejecting the new hair color. Dum dum DUM!!!!
And Nemesis is almost finished at long long last. It only took me a decade to get all my issues with it sorted out. Being stuck in bed has left me with a lot of time on my hands, and I can only read so much Harry Potter before I run out of books. Soo... let me get back to re-re-re-editing the damned thing so I can send it out to a publisher.
Any bands of the industrial-goth slant who want to be reviewed on SmilingGoth.com, email me and I'll send you the addee to send the promo copy to.
Ciao fer now!
Dayquil-NyQueen
7:01pm
THE UNSEELIE COURT
OK, Eric. This one's for you because you have kindly reminded me on several occasions just how I haven't given your movie an official review. So here it is... the official review, which will be posted to the website under the Reviews section as soon as I get off my deathbed. Who knew when I did such great book reports as a kid and great movie review in college that I would end up doing reviews as a full-time hobby? The irony, man. The irony.
All info about the Unseelie Court can be found at www.wyndfeather.com.
Title: The Unseelie Court
Release Date: 2002
Company: Dreamdancer Motion Pictures
First and foremost: this movie is an intellectual flick. There are no kickboxing sequences, no Jackie Chan fighting moves, and no leaping through the air like a japanimation while something explodes in the background. There is no Vin Diesel in this movie. And that's why I liked it so much. Because I HAD to pay attention.
The start is very unassuming, visually a beautiful film, and a damned good script. And here's the part that I love: the whole time it tiptoes gothically around being David Lynch-esque, but without stepping over the line. The whole scene is set on the rainy night, thunder and lightning set the mood like only good ghosts stories start. The ideas and beliefs of the main character are pushed to creepy levels through use of imagery and camera technique, driving his points home to the viewer in thunder cracks and lightning flashes.
Truly an artistic and beautifully done film, which is what I expect from Eric. :)
In other news....
I FINALLY UPDATED THE WEBSITE!!!! Go, view it and love it, at SmilingGoth.com.
As soon as I'm feeling better I'll update it even more. Did I mention my hella-cold? Oh yeah... summer colds SUCK. I've been on the sofa bed for the past three days. I get up to bathe, obviously, and spray everything in sight with Lysol (useless bit of trivia here, did you know Lysol used to be a feminine hygiene spray? Mmmmm... smell that fresh scent! And no, I don't use it as a feminine spray.)
I've been basking in the glow of the Fields of the Nephilim album. I have to say I'm LOVING it still, although I think Dante might be getting tired of it. His loss. I have to hear him snoring the same snore every night, so the least he can do is listen to the same album over and over until I get tired of it.
Since I got sick I've had the chance to observe comedic disasters. Like vet collars for dogs after they get stitches. Dogs with cones around their heads are HILARIOUS. It's like a person on crutches falling down a flight of stairs. Of course, if I was on crutches and fell down a flight of stairs, I might not find it funny until it was over.
Did I mention I went PLATINUM BLONDE? Strange coincidence, after I went blonde I got sick. As if my goth-ness is rejecting the new hair color. Dum dum DUM!!!!
And Nemesis is almost finished at long long last. It only took me a decade to get all my issues with it sorted out. Being stuck in bed has left me with a lot of time on my hands, and I can only read so much Harry Potter before I run out of books. Soo... let me get back to re-re-re-editing the damned thing so I can send it out to a publisher.
Any bands of the industrial-goth slant who want to be reviewed on SmilingGoth.com, email me and I'll send you the addee to send the promo copy to.
Ciao fer now!
Dayquil-NyQueen
Wednesday, September 18, 2002
OK... The official review... Thanks for your patience.
BAND: FIELDS OF THE NEPHILIM
ALBUM: FALLEN
RELEASE DATE: 2002
It's been a long time, but it's finally here. Rejoice at the dawning of a new release from across the fields....
For those truly faithful Fields fans, this is the illegitimate lovechild of Zoon and Elyzium.
For those who might be hearing the Fields of the Nephilim for the first time, or who are considering listening to the Fields of the Nephilim for the first time, this is a dark masterpiece that resurrects some of the old work, dragging it into the light of the new millenium and transforming it into something far more frightening. "Darkcell AD" and "One More Nightmare" are two resurrections and truly treats for the Halloween season, pulled from their shallow graves and reanimated to do the bidding of their masters. Play it for the kiddies!
The other songs on the album are hard-edged, melodic, dripping subconscious poetry into an erotica of musical ambience. The driving grinding beat of "Thirst" lends a direct contrast to the brilliant simplicity of "Darkcell AD", while such songs as "Subsanity", "Fallen" and the revamped "One More Nightmare" demostrate the new, bolder direction that the Fields of the Nephilim are taking.
For those expecting a "goth" album, you will have to search elsewhere. It's much more. This latest release just shows the natural evolution of the Fields of the Nephilim into the new millenium, and proves that there's still magic in the music.
BAND: FIELDS OF THE NEPHILIM
ALBUM: FALLEN
RELEASE DATE: 2002
It's been a long time, but it's finally here. Rejoice at the dawning of a new release from across the fields....
For those truly faithful Fields fans, this is the illegitimate lovechild of Zoon and Elyzium.
For those who might be hearing the Fields of the Nephilim for the first time, or who are considering listening to the Fields of the Nephilim for the first time, this is a dark masterpiece that resurrects some of the old work, dragging it into the light of the new millenium and transforming it into something far more frightening. "Darkcell AD" and "One More Nightmare" are two resurrections and truly treats for the Halloween season, pulled from their shallow graves and reanimated to do the bidding of their masters. Play it for the kiddies!
The other songs on the album are hard-edged, melodic, dripping subconscious poetry into an erotica of musical ambience. The driving grinding beat of "Thirst" lends a direct contrast to the brilliant simplicity of "Darkcell AD", while such songs as "Subsanity", "Fallen" and the revamped "One More Nightmare" demostrate the new, bolder direction that the Fields of the Nephilim are taking.
For those expecting a "goth" album, you will have to search elsewhere. It's much more. This latest release just shows the natural evolution of the Fields of the Nephilim into the new millenium, and proves that there's still magic in the music.
Tuesday, September 17, 2002
9/17/02
1:18am
A GOOD DAY IN A BAD WEEK
It's one of those days when all I have is cleaning to do. I don't bother checking the mail anymore, since there's nothing of any interest to me in it anymore.
I printed out Nemesis, tried to start reading it to make sure it was ready for its trip to the publisher, but couldn't find the energy (did I mention I cleaned the entire house today?). I took a step back instead and worked on other stuff, so that when I look through Nemesis again, it won't be so fresh in my head and I can be more impartial when I read through it. Bleak and oppressive for the hundreth time reading a book I wrote, I know....
BUT...
A light at the end of the tunnel!!!
I got an advance copy of the new Fields of the Nephilim album "Fallen" for review. So here's the pre-review: EXCELLENT!!!!
It makes me wish I had ten thumbs so I could hold them all up. For FON fans-- and I mean TRUE FON fans, like the ones who own a copy of Zoon, too, it sounds like a marriage between Zoon and Elyzium. Hard-edged, melodic, dripping subconscious poetry into an erotica of musical ambience. How's THAT for a description? And yet it doesn't do the album justice. This latest release just shows the natural evolution of the Fields of the Nephilim into the new millenium, and proves that there's magic in the music.
For the full review, you'll just have to visit my website. :)
And that should be done by the end of this week, if all goes well. I've been bad, I know. Horrible, in fact. Depression will do that. I'm pulling myself out of my emotional mire, though, and dragging the nightmares out with me to throw against paper like a Jackson Pollock of horror. I can hardly wait for the creativity to begin.
1:18am
A GOOD DAY IN A BAD WEEK
It's one of those days when all I have is cleaning to do. I don't bother checking the mail anymore, since there's nothing of any interest to me in it anymore.
I printed out Nemesis, tried to start reading it to make sure it was ready for its trip to the publisher, but couldn't find the energy (did I mention I cleaned the entire house today?). I took a step back instead and worked on other stuff, so that when I look through Nemesis again, it won't be so fresh in my head and I can be more impartial when I read through it. Bleak and oppressive for the hundreth time reading a book I wrote, I know....
BUT...
A light at the end of the tunnel!!!
I got an advance copy of the new Fields of the Nephilim album "Fallen" for review. So here's the pre-review: EXCELLENT!!!!
It makes me wish I had ten thumbs so I could hold them all up. For FON fans-- and I mean TRUE FON fans, like the ones who own a copy of Zoon, too, it sounds like a marriage between Zoon and Elyzium. Hard-edged, melodic, dripping subconscious poetry into an erotica of musical ambience. How's THAT for a description? And yet it doesn't do the album justice. This latest release just shows the natural evolution of the Fields of the Nephilim into the new millenium, and proves that there's magic in the music.
For the full review, you'll just have to visit my website. :)
And that should be done by the end of this week, if all goes well. I've been bad, I know. Horrible, in fact. Depression will do that. I'm pulling myself out of my emotional mire, though, and dragging the nightmares out with me to throw against paper like a Jackson Pollock of horror. I can hardly wait for the creativity to begin.
Saturday, September 14, 2002
9/14/02
3:30pm
OBLIGATORY OBLIGATIONS
Did you ever find yourself hungry, but not hungry enough to make something to eat, so you find a can of frosting in the back of your cabinet right next to the peanut butter, and you open it, eat it, and wash it down with a glass of milk?
No? Must just be me.
It was all in celebration, though. I finally finished re-re-re-re-editing Nemesis. I hate being a perfectionist, especially when now I wonder if maybe the original final copy was as good as it was going to get to begin with. Oh well.
In other news...
Yeah, so Wednesday marked my 1 Year of Pain and Sadness. I went out and dyed my hair blonde. Figured maybe if I could look the part I could feel the part, too and start giggling a lot. Life is kind of funny when you watch a plane fly straight through where you would have been working had you taken that job on the 98th floor. Maybe not so funny ha-ha, though. I've face the limits of my own mortality so many times, but never have I had to watch it over and over again on television. My count on near death experiences is up to.... 14, I think. Maybe more. I lost count.
And as for those two guys that got stopped on I-75 yesterday. All I have to say is DUMB. I can see it from the woman's point of view, calling the cops when she overheard something about bringing things down, and mourning 9/11 and 9/13, but at the same time I have to wonder at the intelligence of the two guys who were talking like that to begin with. Two middle-eastern type guys, chatting away about 9/11 and mourning on 9/13, and bringing things down, and they expect that no one will call a cop??? That would be like me dressed to the teeth in goth gear in a Denny's on the anniversary of Columbine and chatting about "They make me so mad I just wanna blow 'em all to hell." I mean, COME ON. Granted, I could be figuratively speaking, but some folks might get edgy. And I doubt the cops would be so accomodating in my case. Looking different for religion is one thing, looking different because you can is something else entirely.
The one bad thing I see coming out of this is the complete lack of privacy issue. Now we can't even express ourselves in a restaurant for fear that some panicky tourist might call the cops. And I can't even put up links to some fun conspiracy THEORIES (for entertainment only) for fear that some asshole will send me a slew of viruses.
Thank you, Big Brother will see you now.
But I digress...
Let's talk about my downstairs neighbors for a lil bit. Some of the fun of living southern is that you have warm days most of the time, which seems to invite people to grill things. My downstairs neighbors are no exception, apparently.
Yesterday, I was minding my own business, and Pants was cavorting as only the Pants will do. My downstairs neighbors dragged their grill onto their porch (we have barbecue pits in the development, so I don't understand the need for a porch grill), and they fire it up. Pants is jumping around the porch, sniffing through the cracks at the tendrils of smoke coming up, and prancing about excitedly. I'm in the middle of editing, so I don't pay too much mind.
A few minutes later, my cat runs through the door, a thick tendril of smoke following her. I get aggravated, since we have no meat in the house and the grill smells wonderful, so I shut the door. Pants climbs to the top of her cat tree and doses, glaring occasionally at the porch. I ignore it.
I finally look up when Pants is sitting at the door, staring onto the porch and looking at me in a way that makes me question whether she might be telepathic. She catches my eye and turns back to the outside, not like she wants to go out, more like there's something interesting going on. I look outside and wonder when it got so dark before I realize my neighbors are burning something. My entire porch is full --and I mean FULL-- of thick white-gray smoke to the point that I can't even see my tacky blue and white striped beach chair, which is pressed against the sliding door.
I'm understandably upset by this, as is the Pants, who looks at me as if to say, "See, woman? Do you see what they've done to my porch??"
I have no comfort to give to my sad-looking cat, so I give her a Pupperoni treat to keep her quiet. What can I say? The cat likes dog treats.
I got revenge on the neighbors the only way I knew how in this situation. I over-watered all my plants. Rained out their lil grill party real fast, and put out whatever they were burning.
3:30pm
OBLIGATORY OBLIGATIONS
Did you ever find yourself hungry, but not hungry enough to make something to eat, so you find a can of frosting in the back of your cabinet right next to the peanut butter, and you open it, eat it, and wash it down with a glass of milk?
No? Must just be me.
It was all in celebration, though. I finally finished re-re-re-re-editing Nemesis. I hate being a perfectionist, especially when now I wonder if maybe the original final copy was as good as it was going to get to begin with. Oh well.
In other news...
Yeah, so Wednesday marked my 1 Year of Pain and Sadness. I went out and dyed my hair blonde. Figured maybe if I could look the part I could feel the part, too and start giggling a lot. Life is kind of funny when you watch a plane fly straight through where you would have been working had you taken that job on the 98th floor. Maybe not so funny ha-ha, though. I've face the limits of my own mortality so many times, but never have I had to watch it over and over again on television. My count on near death experiences is up to.... 14, I think. Maybe more. I lost count.
And as for those two guys that got stopped on I-75 yesterday. All I have to say is DUMB. I can see it from the woman's point of view, calling the cops when she overheard something about bringing things down, and mourning 9/11 and 9/13, but at the same time I have to wonder at the intelligence of the two guys who were talking like that to begin with. Two middle-eastern type guys, chatting away about 9/11 and mourning on 9/13, and bringing things down, and they expect that no one will call a cop??? That would be like me dressed to the teeth in goth gear in a Denny's on the anniversary of Columbine and chatting about "They make me so mad I just wanna blow 'em all to hell." I mean, COME ON. Granted, I could be figuratively speaking, but some folks might get edgy. And I doubt the cops would be so accomodating in my case. Looking different for religion is one thing, looking different because you can is something else entirely.
The one bad thing I see coming out of this is the complete lack of privacy issue. Now we can't even express ourselves in a restaurant for fear that some panicky tourist might call the cops. And I can't even put up links to some fun conspiracy THEORIES (for entertainment only) for fear that some asshole will send me a slew of viruses.
Thank you, Big Brother will see you now.
But I digress...
Let's talk about my downstairs neighbors for a lil bit. Some of the fun of living southern is that you have warm days most of the time, which seems to invite people to grill things. My downstairs neighbors are no exception, apparently.
Yesterday, I was minding my own business, and Pants was cavorting as only the Pants will do. My downstairs neighbors dragged their grill onto their porch (we have barbecue pits in the development, so I don't understand the need for a porch grill), and they fire it up. Pants is jumping around the porch, sniffing through the cracks at the tendrils of smoke coming up, and prancing about excitedly. I'm in the middle of editing, so I don't pay too much mind.
A few minutes later, my cat runs through the door, a thick tendril of smoke following her. I get aggravated, since we have no meat in the house and the grill smells wonderful, so I shut the door. Pants climbs to the top of her cat tree and doses, glaring occasionally at the porch. I ignore it.
I finally look up when Pants is sitting at the door, staring onto the porch and looking at me in a way that makes me question whether she might be telepathic. She catches my eye and turns back to the outside, not like she wants to go out, more like there's something interesting going on. I look outside and wonder when it got so dark before I realize my neighbors are burning something. My entire porch is full --and I mean FULL-- of thick white-gray smoke to the point that I can't even see my tacky blue and white striped beach chair, which is pressed against the sliding door.
I'm understandably upset by this, as is the Pants, who looks at me as if to say, "See, woman? Do you see what they've done to my porch??"
I have no comfort to give to my sad-looking cat, so I give her a Pupperoni treat to keep her quiet. What can I say? The cat likes dog treats.
I got revenge on the neighbors the only way I knew how in this situation. I over-watered all my plants. Rained out their lil grill party real fast, and put out whatever they were burning.
Tuesday, September 10, 2002
9/10/02
2:02am
THE BEGINNINGS OF AN END.....
It's late, I'm tired. I've been playing at sun-bunny and I have a tan/burn to show for it. The sun drains me. I don't know what I was thinking other than how I wanted to go swimming and feel like the vacation I'm supposed to be on. Likely. I updated a friend's website today. It gave me something to do and I felt like I had been useful to someone. All good.
Just finished the second Harry Potter book, the Chamber of Secrets. It was good. Very nice --hmmm. I swear I just saw something go streaking across the floor. At first I thought I was overly tired, but then Pants came chasing after it. Pants on the prowl. How cute.
Crossing the crossfade. Hair triggering the endless void stuck between my ears. I swear I was only CLEANING it and it just went OFF. Not a safe thing to go walking around with a mind full of ideas these days. Man, I need a better place to dwell instead of in my own head.
How the hell did the West Nile Virus get alllllll the way over here? Last time I checked the Nile was a river in EGYPT. I only assume there's no West Nile River hiding in the States, but I could be wrong. There's a West New York, New Jersey, so why not a West Nile, Florida or something like that?
Fragmentation, not just for stories anymore! I either need to get some sleep or get back to work on stories that will pay the bills.
2:02am
THE BEGINNINGS OF AN END.....
It's late, I'm tired. I've been playing at sun-bunny and I have a tan/burn to show for it. The sun drains me. I don't know what I was thinking other than how I wanted to go swimming and feel like the vacation I'm supposed to be on. Likely. I updated a friend's website today. It gave me something to do and I felt like I had been useful to someone. All good.
Just finished the second Harry Potter book, the Chamber of Secrets. It was good. Very nice --hmmm. I swear I just saw something go streaking across the floor. At first I thought I was overly tired, but then Pants came chasing after it. Pants on the prowl. How cute.
Crossing the crossfade. Hair triggering the endless void stuck between my ears. I swear I was only CLEANING it and it just went OFF. Not a safe thing to go walking around with a mind full of ideas these days. Man, I need a better place to dwell instead of in my own head.
How the hell did the West Nile Virus get alllllll the way over here? Last time I checked the Nile was a river in EGYPT. I only assume there's no West Nile River hiding in the States, but I could be wrong. There's a West New York, New Jersey, so why not a West Nile, Florida or something like that?
Fragmentation, not just for stories anymore! I either need to get some sleep or get back to work on stories that will pay the bills.
Monday, September 09, 2002
9/09/02
12:36am
A LIMO RIDE FROM HELL
Wow. That's all I have to say to start things off. My first limo ride, and what a long strange trip it was. But I suppose I should start from the beginning....
Dante called me up in the middle of an afternoon recovery from watching small spawn of a toothpick I assumed to be woman running aroun a swimming pool and having "lovebugs" landing and copulating all over me. How dirty did I feel? So Dante calls me up and says, 'Hey, there's a party tonight. Do you want to go?'
Sure, I say. Let's. It'll be fun. Haven't been to downtown yet, and this one club sounds promising. He calls me back mere minutes later and says something about a limo. Keen, sez I. I've never ridden in a limo before. The time draws near, I put on my makeup and dress to impress, and we walk over to where we're supposed to be meeting the limo.
One hour of sitting in an empty parking lot later, and having the imprint of a parking block delving across my ass, the limo FINALLY shows up. With a life-size Minnie Mouse doll buckled into the passenger seat. I'm skeeved. Not necessarily because I have anything against Minnie, although I always found her high-pitched bitching akin to nails down a chalkboard, but because it's a WHITE limo. Tacky. Now I know why stars get miffed if they don't have a black limo come pick them up, because let me tell you friends and neighbors, the white limo is truly tasteless.
Even worse was the trip. A mere 20 minute trip turned into the ride from hell. You can SEE the lights of downtown from my house, and yet our driver couldn't have found his way out of a pair of footy-pajamas. The inside was a porn star's dream, complete with tacky mirrored ceiling, a set up for a drink bar with glasses, napkins, and a deliberate absence of alcohol. We got over it. One of our party rolled down his window and lit up a cigarette, and the limo driver told him it was a no-smoking car, to please put it out. Once the cigarette had been thrown out the window, the driver ROLLED UP THE GUY'S WINDOW AND LOCKED IT. Yikes.
Being the folks we are, we try to be cool with this treatment, and we ask for the radio to be turned on so we can start getting geared up for the night. The driver informs us that the radio doesn't work. What about the CD player? That doesn't work either, yet the guy had Eminem's greatest hits playing in the front of the car. He informs us that the televisions work, however, so we ask him how to turn them on. He ignores us for the first three requests. Finally we manage to harass the remote control out of him, and all we can watch is The Littlest Vampire. The ride was quickly becoming like Disney on wheels. A nightmarish hell of Minnie and clean-living. Gag.
We tell the driver the club we want to go to, we give the guy directions all the way there, and the only thing we finally requested adamantly was that he put up the driver's window that separates the driver from the passengers. He informs us that the window will not be put up, that it's company policy.
Honestly now, it was just too much. But wait, it gets even... worse....
We ask him to pick us up in the spot that he left us at, at 2:30am.
We go out, we have fun, and at 2:30 we wait for the limo. Dante and I watched this guy drive by not five minutes before, and the guy kept circling the block without slowing down. 2:30 came and went and our driver was MIA.
3am came, and we finally got a taxi van to take us all home. The antics were mild considering, but we all were somewhat expecting the taxi guy to yell at us for something. The taxi ride didn't need directions, it had a working radio, working windows, ability to smoke, ability to act like maniacs, and at less cost than the limo. Oh yeah, and the taxi was on time.
I felt a familiarity in the limo, it was strange. I was recognized when I went out, which was stranger. But a word of caution to anyone renting a limo: if you have to give the driver directions and they still get lost, get a cab. They never made a good movie about a limo driver, after all.
12:36am
A LIMO RIDE FROM HELL
Wow. That's all I have to say to start things off. My first limo ride, and what a long strange trip it was. But I suppose I should start from the beginning....
Dante called me up in the middle of an afternoon recovery from watching small spawn of a toothpick I assumed to be woman running aroun a swimming pool and having "lovebugs" landing and copulating all over me. How dirty did I feel? So Dante calls me up and says, 'Hey, there's a party tonight. Do you want to go?'
Sure, I say. Let's. It'll be fun. Haven't been to downtown yet, and this one club sounds promising. He calls me back mere minutes later and says something about a limo. Keen, sez I. I've never ridden in a limo before. The time draws near, I put on my makeup and dress to impress, and we walk over to where we're supposed to be meeting the limo.
One hour of sitting in an empty parking lot later, and having the imprint of a parking block delving across my ass, the limo FINALLY shows up. With a life-size Minnie Mouse doll buckled into the passenger seat. I'm skeeved. Not necessarily because I have anything against Minnie, although I always found her high-pitched bitching akin to nails down a chalkboard, but because it's a WHITE limo. Tacky. Now I know why stars get miffed if they don't have a black limo come pick them up, because let me tell you friends and neighbors, the white limo is truly tasteless.
Even worse was the trip. A mere 20 minute trip turned into the ride from hell. You can SEE the lights of downtown from my house, and yet our driver couldn't have found his way out of a pair of footy-pajamas. The inside was a porn star's dream, complete with tacky mirrored ceiling, a set up for a drink bar with glasses, napkins, and a deliberate absence of alcohol. We got over it. One of our party rolled down his window and lit up a cigarette, and the limo driver told him it was a no-smoking car, to please put it out. Once the cigarette had been thrown out the window, the driver ROLLED UP THE GUY'S WINDOW AND LOCKED IT. Yikes.
Being the folks we are, we try to be cool with this treatment, and we ask for the radio to be turned on so we can start getting geared up for the night. The driver informs us that the radio doesn't work. What about the CD player? That doesn't work either, yet the guy had Eminem's greatest hits playing in the front of the car. He informs us that the televisions work, however, so we ask him how to turn them on. He ignores us for the first three requests. Finally we manage to harass the remote control out of him, and all we can watch is The Littlest Vampire. The ride was quickly becoming like Disney on wheels. A nightmarish hell of Minnie and clean-living. Gag.
We tell the driver the club we want to go to, we give the guy directions all the way there, and the only thing we finally requested adamantly was that he put up the driver's window that separates the driver from the passengers. He informs us that the window will not be put up, that it's company policy.
Honestly now, it was just too much. But wait, it gets even... worse....
We ask him to pick us up in the spot that he left us at, at 2:30am.
We go out, we have fun, and at 2:30 we wait for the limo. Dante and I watched this guy drive by not five minutes before, and the guy kept circling the block without slowing down. 2:30 came and went and our driver was MIA.
3am came, and we finally got a taxi van to take us all home. The antics were mild considering, but we all were somewhat expecting the taxi guy to yell at us for something. The taxi ride didn't need directions, it had a working radio, working windows, ability to smoke, ability to act like maniacs, and at less cost than the limo. Oh yeah, and the taxi was on time.
I felt a familiarity in the limo, it was strange. I was recognized when I went out, which was stranger. But a word of caution to anyone renting a limo: if you have to give the driver directions and they still get lost, get a cab. They never made a good movie about a limo driver, after all.
Sunday, September 01, 2002
9/01/02
12:53pm
ONE SMALL STEP FOR ME, ONE GIANT LEAP FOR JUSTIFICATION
One of my former students emailed me. That one email made my experience worthwhile. At least I know one person that I made a difference with. It does my heart good to know that.
The world is not a particularly friendly place and compassion and understanding seem to be foreign words, despite what happened last year. So much for the wakeup call. All we did was hit the snooze button.
I guess after I got the email my goal became a little bit clearer to me. It was always there, stuck in the back of my mind like a dreamthought, but now it's finally up front. Nothing so dramatic as saving the world, I don't have those means, nor does the world want to be saved. How many people have said that's what they wanted to do, though? I think every Miss America has said something akin to World Peace, but how many of them actually go out and attempt to accomplish it? None. Pretty words are fine, I write a lot of pretty words in my spare time, and I have a lot of decent ideas, but I actually set out to accomplish my nice thoughts. That one email shows that I actually DID it, and shows that I can KEEP doing it. My goal: spread more understanding, and CARE. Treat human beings like human beings. Accept them for their talents and not reject them for their failings-- unless of course the failings outweigh the talents, I guess.
Geez.. Golden Earring "The Twilight Zone" just came on We Are the Eighties.
12:53pm
ONE SMALL STEP FOR ME, ONE GIANT LEAP FOR JUSTIFICATION
One of my former students emailed me. That one email made my experience worthwhile. At least I know one person that I made a difference with. It does my heart good to know that.
The world is not a particularly friendly place and compassion and understanding seem to be foreign words, despite what happened last year. So much for the wakeup call. All we did was hit the snooze button.
I guess after I got the email my goal became a little bit clearer to me. It was always there, stuck in the back of my mind like a dreamthought, but now it's finally up front. Nothing so dramatic as saving the world, I don't have those means, nor does the world want to be saved. How many people have said that's what they wanted to do, though? I think every Miss America has said something akin to World Peace, but how many of them actually go out and attempt to accomplish it? None. Pretty words are fine, I write a lot of pretty words in my spare time, and I have a lot of decent ideas, but I actually set out to accomplish my nice thoughts. That one email shows that I actually DID it, and shows that I can KEEP doing it. My goal: spread more understanding, and CARE. Treat human beings like human beings. Accept them for their talents and not reject them for their failings-- unless of course the failings outweigh the talents, I guess.
Geez.. Golden Earring "The Twilight Zone" just came on We Are the Eighties.
Friday, August 30, 2002
8/30/02
10:06am
REASONS FOUND, BUT NOT ENOUGH...
As strange fate would have it, I wasn't writing enough, and so I lost my job. Weird, huh? It's like something decided that I was meant for writing, and so it conveniently took the decisions out of my hands, since I would have stayed on the job and done my best either way. Oh well. Now I have a lot of time on my hands.
Soooo... I can take a hint, Fate. This whole week I'll be keeping myself busy updating the website (yes, all those who sent in submissions, you will finally have your work showcased!) and writing. I've decided it's time to send my novel to an agent or publisher. The web site just isn't selling enough to even keep it running anymore. Now it's all out-of-pocket expenses where before it kept itself running. Sigh.
BUT the great thing is, the site will be revamped and resurrected COMPLETELY. AND it'll have some truly kickass writers and artists featured on it. So I'm pretty psyched. That and I'm hoping to add a cartoon segment to Inanna's Lair. She's been keeping me laughing through my pain and heartache of yesterday. Crazy lil crackhead that she is.
OK. So as not to waste this time I have been given, I'm off for now. In parting I say what everyone has told me: this is setting up for something better.
I hope they're right.
10:06am
REASONS FOUND, BUT NOT ENOUGH...
As strange fate would have it, I wasn't writing enough, and so I lost my job. Weird, huh? It's like something decided that I was meant for writing, and so it conveniently took the decisions out of my hands, since I would have stayed on the job and done my best either way. Oh well. Now I have a lot of time on my hands.
Soooo... I can take a hint, Fate. This whole week I'll be keeping myself busy updating the website (yes, all those who sent in submissions, you will finally have your work showcased!) and writing. I've decided it's time to send my novel to an agent or publisher. The web site just isn't selling enough to even keep it running anymore. Now it's all out-of-pocket expenses where before it kept itself running. Sigh.
BUT the great thing is, the site will be revamped and resurrected COMPLETELY. AND it'll have some truly kickass writers and artists featured on it. So I'm pretty psyched. That and I'm hoping to add a cartoon segment to Inanna's Lair. She's been keeping me laughing through my pain and heartache of yesterday. Crazy lil crackhead that she is.
OK. So as not to waste this time I have been given, I'm off for now. In parting I say what everyone has told me: this is setting up for something better.
I hope they're right.
Saturday, August 24, 2002
8/24/02
7:10pm
THE BEST BOOK IS A BLANK BOOK
OK. So I've been waiting, impatiently I might add, for the Fields of the Nephilim site to finally open and go public. I guess now I know how folks must feel when I don't update the site as often as I should. D'oh.
While I wait for the new FON site to be up and running so I may again immerse myself in fun factoids and trivia about one of the best goth bands EVER to grace the scene, I also attempt to overcome my writer's block, which unfortunately has left me with a need to re-edit my first novel, NEMESIS, yet again.
Oh well. The best book truly is a blank book. At least then I can make a story for each blank book I find. I can literally write the story according to the cover. How cool is that?
Since the website got up and running back in October of 1998, I've met some awesome people I normally would never have gotten a chance to. My friend Eric from Wyndfeather.com is one person that I can truly say has talent. He sent me a copy of his movie, The Unseelie Court, and I have to say, WOW. Buy it. Go to his site and BUY IT. Keep that boy in business, dammit! It gave me chills, it made me think, spirituality and horror all in one neat lil package. I can only hope when it comes time to make NEMESIS it'll come out half as good as Eric's production.
But like I said, today is the day of writer's block.
Dante just came walking in with foil stuck all over his hair.. HAHAHAHAHAhahaahahaaa!!! he looks like that crazy guy that walks the streets of NYC. Wow... no aliens will be reading Dante's thoughts for a while.... LOL. I am told I must get ready so we can go shopping... grrr...
Writer's block, we shall meet again!
7:10pm
THE BEST BOOK IS A BLANK BOOK
OK. So I've been waiting, impatiently I might add, for the Fields of the Nephilim site to finally open and go public. I guess now I know how folks must feel when I don't update the site as often as I should. D'oh.
While I wait for the new FON site to be up and running so I may again immerse myself in fun factoids and trivia about one of the best goth bands EVER to grace the scene, I also attempt to overcome my writer's block, which unfortunately has left me with a need to re-edit my first novel, NEMESIS, yet again.
Oh well. The best book truly is a blank book. At least then I can make a story for each blank book I find. I can literally write the story according to the cover. How cool is that?
Since the website got up and running back in October of 1998, I've met some awesome people I normally would never have gotten a chance to. My friend Eric from Wyndfeather.com is one person that I can truly say has talent. He sent me a copy of his movie, The Unseelie Court, and I have to say, WOW. Buy it. Go to his site and BUY IT. Keep that boy in business, dammit! It gave me chills, it made me think, spirituality and horror all in one neat lil package. I can only hope when it comes time to make NEMESIS it'll come out half as good as Eric's production.
But like I said, today is the day of writer's block.
Dante just came walking in with foil stuck all over his hair.. HAHAHAHAHAhahaahahaaa!!! he looks like that crazy guy that walks the streets of NYC. Wow... no aliens will be reading Dante's thoughts for a while.... LOL. I am told I must get ready so we can go shopping... grrr...
Writer's block, we shall meet again!
Tuesday, August 20, 2002
8/20/02
7:51pm
THE SEARCH FOR INTELLIGENT LIFE......
So I'm watching Tech TV, and they're busy interviewing some lil old guy who's all about finding intelligent life on another planet. My question is: Why not start on our own planet?
There has to be more than just some friends and me representing the intelligent life on the planet, right? I'm hopeful that someone else besides Dante and I are noticing the rainbows and pink clouds when they show themselves. I also like to believe that the other intelligent lives on this planet are in positions to make a difference, however small it may be.
7:51pm
THE SEARCH FOR INTELLIGENT LIFE......
So I'm watching Tech TV, and they're busy interviewing some lil old guy who's all about finding intelligent life on another planet. My question is: Why not start on our own planet?
There has to be more than just some friends and me representing the intelligent life on the planet, right? I'm hopeful that someone else besides Dante and I are noticing the rainbows and pink clouds when they show themselves. I also like to believe that the other intelligent lives on this planet are in positions to make a difference, however small it may be.
Saturday, August 03, 2002
8/03/02
12:21pm
FOR ENTERTAINMENT PURPOSES ONLY....
That is my caveat for those who try to take me too seriously. I'm nicknamed The Smiling Goth, which in and of itself is a paradox.
I'm watching 2001: A Space Odyssey, and I can't help but feel the rage toward evil Lucas and his psuedo-attempt at movie-making. The first set of movies he made the excuse of technology not being up to par with what he wanted to do... in 1977. Ummm... just an observation, but Kubrick managed to make a damned realistic film over a decade prior to Star Wars, with even less technology. I stand by my Lucas Lack of Talent argument, since now he has the "technology" to do what he wants, and he STILL can't do it right.
End Lucas rant du jour.....
On to bigger and better things, like Italian desserts. Oh yeah, I'm talking Tiramisu and cannoli. MMMMMMMmmmmmm..... If you've never tried them, go! Find thee a GOOD Italian restaurant and experience the heaven. I mention this only because I have found an EXCELLENT Italian restaurant in Florida, of all the places. It has the completely steriotypical name, and an atmosphere that screams stereotyped Italian-American (although there were no red and white checkered tablecloths), but the service and food are anything but ordinary. Goodfellas is the name, if you ever find yourself in the Sunshine State in Orlando. It's incredible. This review brought to you by an authentic Italian-American who was raised on real Italian cuisine (don't worry, there's no fluffy bunnies being served up at Goodfellas).
Other than that.. life as I know it. Work work work. And gardening. Dante and I made a trip to Lowe's, and bought about two carts worth of plants, dirt, and flowerpots. My porch has become a jungle. A jungle that Pants LOVES. And of course, that cat tree we got her. It's 8 feet of hilarity, with three shelves of chaos built in... and it's treated with CATNIP. My cat is truly insane. Between playing in the jungle and climbing the cat tree, she's almost in kitty heaven. Right now she's sitting on the porch, staring up at the largest plant as if she's chatting with it. For all I know she could be.
12:21pm
FOR ENTERTAINMENT PURPOSES ONLY....
That is my caveat for those who try to take me too seriously. I'm nicknamed The Smiling Goth, which in and of itself is a paradox.
I'm watching 2001: A Space Odyssey, and I can't help but feel the rage toward evil Lucas and his psuedo-attempt at movie-making. The first set of movies he made the excuse of technology not being up to par with what he wanted to do... in 1977. Ummm... just an observation, but Kubrick managed to make a damned realistic film over a decade prior to Star Wars, with even less technology. I stand by my Lucas Lack of Talent argument, since now he has the "technology" to do what he wants, and he STILL can't do it right.
End Lucas rant du jour.....
On to bigger and better things, like Italian desserts. Oh yeah, I'm talking Tiramisu and cannoli. MMMMMMMmmmmmm..... If you've never tried them, go! Find thee a GOOD Italian restaurant and experience the heaven. I mention this only because I have found an EXCELLENT Italian restaurant in Florida, of all the places. It has the completely steriotypical name, and an atmosphere that screams stereotyped Italian-American (although there were no red and white checkered tablecloths), but the service and food are anything but ordinary. Goodfellas is the name, if you ever find yourself in the Sunshine State in Orlando. It's incredible. This review brought to you by an authentic Italian-American who was raised on real Italian cuisine (don't worry, there's no fluffy bunnies being served up at Goodfellas).
Other than that.. life as I know it. Work work work. And gardening. Dante and I made a trip to Lowe's, and bought about two carts worth of plants, dirt, and flowerpots. My porch has become a jungle. A jungle that Pants LOVES. And of course, that cat tree we got her. It's 8 feet of hilarity, with three shelves of chaos built in... and it's treated with CATNIP. My cat is truly insane. Between playing in the jungle and climbing the cat tree, she's almost in kitty heaven. Right now she's sitting on the porch, staring up at the largest plant as if she's chatting with it. For all I know she could be.
Monday, July 29, 2002
7/29/02
11:15pm
HEY, HONEY.... IS THIS BAD?
Oooooohhhh.... and I'm back! Seems this lack of sleep thing has started to take over my creativity, too. I've been trying to make up for it in online shenaqnigans, but to no avail. Until tonight, of course. Good ole Puff Chrissy of LegionStudios.com informed me that I'm in print with my Angry Fudge Experience in the illustrious and locally famous Too Square Magazine. Woo hoo!
But on to my topic du jour. I could go on about the lack of respect that youngins have for their elders these days, but that would so twist my oh-so mellow. I could tell the story of Pants and her new Cat Tree, but I might just save that for later. It's funny. But tonight, the story is the story of A Good Watermelon Gone Bad.
It started about 20 minutes ago, and sent me into a nauseous spiral of laughter. For about the last two weeks, I recall a watermelon being quite at home on the kitchen counter. I don't remember WHEN it got there, or even actually BUYING it, but there it was, and I accepted it as the mystery-melon it was. Tonight, Dante decided to cut into this mystery, and I cringed at his all-too-often-spoken next words, "Hey, Suzi, can you come here a minute and look at this?"
I'm comfortably wrapped in a blanket on the couch, computer on lap, and I sooo don't want to get up. I ask him the ever-popular response that I save for just such occasions: What's wrong? Dante becomes Mr. Mysterio and won't tell me what he wants me to look at. All he says is he "isn't sure" about something-- which could be anything from his discovery of that fungus container we had hiding in the back of the fridge to an all out rush to the hospital over a deep knife gash to the hand....
I finally dragged myself off the couch only to find that there was a massacre in the kitchen. The quartered carcass of a watermelon leaked all over the counter, the inside meat looking a little less than healthy. In fact, if watermelons could get cancer, it would look like the carcass splayed before Dante on the counter. He turned to me and gave me The Look. Then he said, "What do you think? Is this still good?" Why do they ALWAYS ask that?? When there's a black film forming on an otherwise pinkish fruit, why is there a DOUBT? I know the watermelon didn't ask for a second opinion on its diagnosis.
I'm going to miss that mystery-melon hanging out on the kitchen counter.
11:15pm
HEY, HONEY.... IS THIS BAD?
Oooooohhhh.... and I'm back! Seems this lack of sleep thing has started to take over my creativity, too. I've been trying to make up for it in online shenaqnigans, but to no avail. Until tonight, of course. Good ole Puff Chrissy of LegionStudios.com informed me that I'm in print with my Angry Fudge Experience in the illustrious and locally famous Too Square Magazine. Woo hoo!
But on to my topic du jour. I could go on about the lack of respect that youngins have for their elders these days, but that would so twist my oh-so mellow. I could tell the story of Pants and her new Cat Tree, but I might just save that for later. It's funny. But tonight, the story is the story of A Good Watermelon Gone Bad.
It started about 20 minutes ago, and sent me into a nauseous spiral of laughter. For about the last two weeks, I recall a watermelon being quite at home on the kitchen counter. I don't remember WHEN it got there, or even actually BUYING it, but there it was, and I accepted it as the mystery-melon it was. Tonight, Dante decided to cut into this mystery, and I cringed at his all-too-often-spoken next words, "Hey, Suzi, can you come here a minute and look at this?"
I'm comfortably wrapped in a blanket on the couch, computer on lap, and I sooo don't want to get up. I ask him the ever-popular response that I save for just such occasions: What's wrong? Dante becomes Mr. Mysterio and won't tell me what he wants me to look at. All he says is he "isn't sure" about something-- which could be anything from his discovery of that fungus container we had hiding in the back of the fridge to an all out rush to the hospital over a deep knife gash to the hand....
I finally dragged myself off the couch only to find that there was a massacre in the kitchen. The quartered carcass of a watermelon leaked all over the counter, the inside meat looking a little less than healthy. In fact, if watermelons could get cancer, it would look like the carcass splayed before Dante on the counter. He turned to me and gave me The Look. Then he said, "What do you think? Is this still good?" Why do they ALWAYS ask that?? When there's a black film forming on an otherwise pinkish fruit, why is there a DOUBT? I know the watermelon didn't ask for a second opinion on its diagnosis.
I'm going to miss that mystery-melon hanging out on the kitchen counter.
Sunday, July 21, 2002
7/21/02
9:33am
POP CULTURE IS NOT A CULTURE, DAMMIT
My bitch du jour.... Watching VH1 of all the things, and I really have a problem with the band Creed. Aside fr4om the nifty BRYCE/Maya video backgrounds in the latest video, these guys bore the SHIT out of me. Would they like some cheese with that whine? Oh wait-- they have the market cornered on cheese.
So let's check out this lead "singer" who sounds an awful lot like another band, but Creed doesn't even come close to the talent of the other band who will not be mentioned in the same paragraph with evil Creed. So we got this pseudo born-again Christian (and don't argue it, the band's name is CREED, fer gawd's sake) so we have the singer/whiner, whose "troubled" life is like cake compared to most of the rock stars out there. In the interview this guy's bitching because he didn't get along with his upper middle class family. Wah. So he leaves, and sleeps on the floor in an apartment--at least he HAD an apartment, but this guy's bitching because he had to sleep on a cushioned carpet. Wah. Somehow I can't bring myself to feel pity, since I was living next to poverty at some point, and damn close to starving so I could pay the rent (although I had a GREAT figure at the time, sadly), and this guy's crying because he had a nice apartment and had to sleep on the floor. Dude, it's called McDonald's-- work at it. Lazy bastard.
So he's STILL whining about something or other, and even though he's got the personality of a clay flower pot, America is eating it up. WHY? Because it's the watering down of America. The people who love Creed are probably the same people who believe we shouldn't rebuild the World Trade Centers bigger and better because "they'll be a target". Fuck that, sez I. Build them twice as high, go with the blueprints and it'll be the BIGGEST memorial in history, and the christening moment will be to throw that sorry-ass lead singer from Creed off the top of them.
In closing, STOP THE WATERING DOWN, America!!!! Leave that to movie theater soda.
9:33am
POP CULTURE IS NOT A CULTURE, DAMMIT
My bitch du jour.... Watching VH1 of all the things, and I really have a problem with the band Creed. Aside fr4om the nifty BRYCE/Maya video backgrounds in the latest video, these guys bore the SHIT out of me. Would they like some cheese with that whine? Oh wait-- they have the market cornered on cheese.
So let's check out this lead "singer" who sounds an awful lot like another band, but Creed doesn't even come close to the talent of the other band who will not be mentioned in the same paragraph with evil Creed. So we got this pseudo born-again Christian (and don't argue it, the band's name is CREED, fer gawd's sake) so we have the singer/whiner, whose "troubled" life is like cake compared to most of the rock stars out there. In the interview this guy's bitching because he didn't get along with his upper middle class family. Wah. So he leaves, and sleeps on the floor in an apartment--at least he HAD an apartment, but this guy's bitching because he had to sleep on a cushioned carpet. Wah. Somehow I can't bring myself to feel pity, since I was living next to poverty at some point, and damn close to starving so I could pay the rent (although I had a GREAT figure at the time, sadly), and this guy's crying because he had a nice apartment and had to sleep on the floor. Dude, it's called McDonald's-- work at it. Lazy bastard.
So he's STILL whining about something or other, and even though he's got the personality of a clay flower pot, America is eating it up. WHY? Because it's the watering down of America. The people who love Creed are probably the same people who believe we shouldn't rebuild the World Trade Centers bigger and better because "they'll be a target". Fuck that, sez I. Build them twice as high, go with the blueprints and it'll be the BIGGEST memorial in history, and the christening moment will be to throw that sorry-ass lead singer from Creed off the top of them.
In closing, STOP THE WATERING DOWN, America!!!! Leave that to movie theater soda.
Wednesday, July 17, 2002
7/17/02
8:12pm
THE GREAT AND POWERFUL JOBS HAS SPOKEN
For anyone who saw the webcast of Steve Jobs presentation of the latest and greatest that Mac has to offer the consuming public, pretty skippy, wasn't it?
For those who haven't seen it yet,
http://www.apple.com/quicktime/qtv/mwny02/
A word of advice, download and install Quicktime 6 first.
In other news.... just what the hell is the Fox network shoving down our throats and zapping into our retinas in the name of entertainment???? It was bad enoough with American Idiot-- oops-- IDOL (note my sarcasm, feel my annoyance). This "show" bugged me for several reasons, and I will now list them:
They invite Simon to be part of the judges panel, then turn the poor guy-- the ONLY one who didn't sugarcoat it for those kids, and the only one who would give them a true taste of the entertainment industry attitude-- into a scapegoat and minor security threat to our national small-mindedness. Not to mention the rudeness of all of America and the so-called "Talent" of the show, to treat a guest as an outcast and target for abuse. I mean, what the hell?? THIS is what American kids should follow for an example? No wonder the rest of the world hates us.
And tonight takes the cake. 30 Seconds to Futility. Or as I like to call it, Stupid Human Tricks, 30 Seconds at a Time.
Hopefully Steve Jobs will run for president if Jesse Ventura doesn't, and save us all from inevitable Darwinism.
8:12pm
THE GREAT AND POWERFUL JOBS HAS SPOKEN
For anyone who saw the webcast of Steve Jobs presentation of the latest and greatest that Mac has to offer the consuming public, pretty skippy, wasn't it?
For those who haven't seen it yet,
http://www.apple.com/quicktime/qtv/mwny02/
A word of advice, download and install Quicktime 6 first.
In other news.... just what the hell is the Fox network shoving down our throats and zapping into our retinas in the name of entertainment???? It was bad enoough with American Idiot-- oops-- IDOL (note my sarcasm, feel my annoyance). This "show" bugged me for several reasons, and I will now list them:
They invite Simon to be part of the judges panel, then turn the poor guy-- the ONLY one who didn't sugarcoat it for those kids, and the only one who would give them a true taste of the entertainment industry attitude-- into a scapegoat and minor security threat to our national small-mindedness. Not to mention the rudeness of all of America and the so-called "Talent" of the show, to treat a guest as an outcast and target for abuse. I mean, what the hell?? THIS is what American kids should follow for an example? No wonder the rest of the world hates us.
And tonight takes the cake. 30 Seconds to Futility. Or as I like to call it, Stupid Human Tricks, 30 Seconds at a Time.
Hopefully Steve Jobs will run for president if Jesse Ventura doesn't, and save us all from inevitable Darwinism.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)