Tuesday, August 31, 2004

Time Stand Still

Buying records is a bit too intimate an experience for me, anyone ever get this feeling? That moment where the cashier rings up the purchase and paws over my stuff, I feel like I'm being judged. When i come up wearing my leather jacket and and headstrong attitude, I feel like the cashier is saying bullshit as he looks at my Counting Crows CD. Yep I like em, I have all their records, I see you are shocked but it gets worse. I have some kix and Jonatha Brooke too! The Maiden isnt just a front, but sometimes maybe it is. I've been listening to classical lately, Derek's to blaim, some days I can't face Reign in Blood. Does that mean im old?

A year or two ago I got an "excellecent selection", when picking up "Heaven and Hell", from the cashier at Rasputin. So I know they are looking. This weekend ran in and bought some sure light weight stuff. I had to buy a Celtic Frost bumper sticker to not feel like an old man. I know they are like 20 years old but at least they have some rebellion in them. Well except for that time they sold out on Cold Lake. Man I'm grasping desperately at youth I think that does mean im old.

Well back to listening to Brain Salad Surgery and Dave Gilmour

So Far Away

Take away the elevation and air Dream snow kissed fields at the end of November She is talking live My breath fogs' ghosts here outside Wandering the farms wooden decay Wings break from trees with approach and I'm wishing I could too They are laughing inside I'm feeling worse Oak warms the hills and I'm finding my way From moss and stone im looking out Wanting her and I to be alone where its better Locked up with me But thats just helping me Counting out what seems too long I'm heading back in Trying to smile and be alright Trying to want for her As the Scarecrow speaks

Monday, August 30, 2004

A 60 ton Angel falls to the earth

Came down Sierra
In marshlands to rest
holding on hillsides
In crematory Ashe

Nearly missed midnights
Stars tearing light
Drowning cold friendships
On rivers edge nights

Whisper of murder
Remind me of old debts
I can't now repay
And friends gone away

I kind of wrote this very quickly while at work. I am not really happy with the results so maybe I can use this as a work in progress. I was thinking of a couple of people I knew who were murdered and then sort of drifted over to the Rivers Edge murder case which happened where I used to live in Berryessa. I may take that bit out and focus elsewhere. Also that debts business needs to go.

Thursday, August 26, 2004

Here comes the Flood

sorry for not posting. Writers block i guess. I have been doing other stuff guitar, video games stuff like that. I don't know though I write a bunch at work while I should be working on stuff. Maybe I need to take something in to get writing again. I remember a teacher saying you can't write in a vacuum which is true, though life is on going. Who knows maybe it really isnt when the days don't feel very different.

I have been trying to get better at my little guitar which is something. I have been trying to figure out this Trains song by a group called The Porcupine Tree. It's really quite good sort of Catherine Wheel and RadioHead channeling Gabriel era Genesis. That and a David Gilmor song called Murder. I would like to learn that Southern Cross song too but I can never find full tab for it, just chords. Please send it if you got it.

As for video games I do too much of that stuff. I am playing too much Everquest these days. I am smithing, whats that you ask? It's working to become good at an imaginary skill in a fake world in a game! Great still havent finished my book from a few months ago.

Then there is crap going on at the Dog park. Some queen bee self important woman has decided she didnt like my dog so is talking to people and now serveral people are talking about him. It's ridiculous that people have so little to do with their lives. Before I lost my kidney I was helping out at second harvest food bank. She could help there and shut up about my dog. So now I'm driving to the park blasting Slayers Angel of Death just to tell the people don't talk to me.

Well enough of my crap. Poetry soon.

Friday, August 20, 2004


I ran one of those D&D games last night. Sort of cool had a friend back from the East Coast playing. But I really didn't have enough for a whole night of stuff. You get that sort of junk between modules and I had some of the people out. It was more just bullshitting which is sort of what D&D is all about. Nerds getting together and geeking out rather than drinking and playing poker or something less scrupulous. Roleplaying games give us gimps something to do rather than scare women. Around 45 we start becoming the scary guy in the Denny's that is watching the waitresses uncomfortably handing them a sweat soaked dollar tip that nobody wants to touch.

In the game the group had just finished killed a giant crocodile that had been plaguing a tribe of lizard folk. They did this to gain the trust of the lizard folk who feared they may be working with their enemies. I guess the lizard folk had been driven off from their homeland buy some Sahuagin or something goofy like that. They sent people to the town of Saltmarsh to discuss and alliance against the Sahaugin. Which actually ended U2 Danger on the Dunwater. I passed out 2000 exp to everyone Rich and Chris ,the two missing players,included.

To get things rolling I started U3 with the alliance being formed. I should have done a bunch of roleplaying but I suck and didn't get much into that. I don't know how into it I was, I need to keep on track more though. The party were sent out to perform a raid on the Sahuagin compound with a few objectives in mind. They needed to find out about the force size and any specific leader types. Location of important sites such as barracks and stuff. Any extra defenses they have built and How far their preparations are along.

I had the party begin sailing down the coast to the sahaugin, I don't know how to spell it so i change it every time i write it, camp. A giant octopus or kracken attacked the ship mid trip which is where I left off.

Also Steve, from back east, decided to bring in a monk who has joined the party and is on the ship.

Man I sure waste a bunch of time on this stuff but It's in my blood. Over twenty years in this crap too late to stop. I will be playing at the old folks home i guess.

Wednesday, August 18, 2004

Aboutface - Murder

Drop my hand out the window to catch some air Riding down Camden to smell the sage By friends old houses looking for some sort of connection Though everybody is leaving town And places are only places you don't look for the living in a tomb Sometimes I think I am doing this cus i'm afraid of change in myself Or I don't know how to go about it all Really i am struggling to find a way Im old these days and don't have a clue what I'm doing I don't feel something missing like the people with kids talk about School sounds good but a bunch of work after the transplant I just want to be happy these days but it's not coming Im aimless save for D&D and learning how to grill a hot dog And I'm wondering if the doubt comes when the scarecrow speaks.

Tuesday, August 17, 2004


Moons' Prism shattered
And birds choked from sky
Cage broken wings
Flesh set to stench

Bullets long rusting
Goblets bleached crust
Stitching needles buried
down in filth

Tear down the curtain
imbued with mold
Sip down the wine
though vinegar turned

Draw out fire
Blister the skin
Leave machines broken
til I cease to care

Monday, August 16, 2004

We sold our souls for rock n roll pt.1

Awhile ago I mentioned something about Heavy Metal. I figured I should start working on that. Lets start with a story of metal and me. My cousin Stacie was into metal starting with Def Leppard. That didn't influence me much it was the artwork. I remember drawing Eddy off the back of some guy's shirt in English. I was in middle school so that's 7ths grade. I remember seeing an Iron Maiden concert on Mtv that summer and being like eek they are scary evil. I started watching some metal show called Hard 30 and Headbangers ball and got into the weak hair metal. Then into sort of the dungeons and dragons sounding speed metal that people were playing. Down hill from then on.

I guess you can say N.W.O.B.H.M. ,prog metal and speed/trash metal are my favorites. That is the new wave of British heavy metal, bud. Bands like Iron Maiden, Judas Priest, Venom, Angel Witch, Diamond head and def lep. It's usually complex technical music with a strong voiced tenor that screams like an air raid siren. Prog Metal is a movement to graft in bands like Yes and King Crimson. Rush's Caress of steel and Deep Purple are sort of a genesis of this. Modern bands are Dream Theater, Fates Warning, Voivod, countless others you can find at Rastupin records in Campbell. Speed metal is the evolution of nwobhm / reaction to hair metal centered in the Bay Area. Metallica and Megadeth are thrash. Testament which refined the sound down a bit with Alex Skolnik is speed metal but a better example is Cacophony. This music is virtuoso fast and to quote Strongbad "meedlie meedlie medlie meedlie!"

In the spirit of High Fidelity here is my top five metal records

Bruce Dickinson - The Chemical Wedding
Testament - The Legacy
Black Sabbath - Mob Rules
Voivod - Nothingface
Slayer - Reign in Blood

Give em a try there will be more coming on this

August and Everything After

Goelitz has crops of candy corn set to reap as September stumbles in. Long's was already clearing binders to make way. Laying out the racks for vampire teeth and maybe those pumpkin cutting safety knives. Soon Bataglia will make it official and set up the stands which will change to trees overnight. Used to love this time of year but I'm doubtful today. Everybody's left town. Never talking at midnight shouting at satellites toward the late of august. Even warm early evening riding down the street wearing silly masks. Whimsy and memory that makes me smile.

Friday, August 13, 2004

Upon the instruments of death

I don't really want to be working right now so I'm writing about some music. I recently have broadened my musical horizon with a few new records. I figure I would turn you on to these as well.

Zero Hour: A local band from my old neighborhood in San Jose. Very technical prog metal that is both very metal and progressive. It always bugs me that prog metal is either one or the other.

Grails: An instrumental record that is an experience. It's moody sort of like me. Brooding and spiritual at one. Burden of hope is amazing and I cant wait for Red Light which comes out in October.

Grant Lee Phillips (Virginia Creeper): Wow this thing is almost country yet I like it. My parents forced me to listen to country as a youth, it was terrible. Dirty Secret is awesome.

Finally the Music Match Prog-Rock/Art Rock station. You gotta dig this thing It plays Rush's Cygnus and David Gilmor's Murder. Some stuff is hardly prog, Al Stewart, but i just click to the next song. And to cap it off Chris De Burgh! Yes Mr. Lady in Red himself. He has this older song called "Don't pay the Ferryman" I haven't heard it in years but I used to love it. It's a bit of a rocker and certainly a pleasant find. If they would just stop playing so much Styx it would be cool

Wednesday, August 11, 2004

Ripping off Poe

A sunflower shutters on the hillside
and my love is down by the sea.
We ran in this golden field, on this solemn hill
But I can’t find her now, were can she be

We road in jingling gypsy carts
singing, with fearless hearts in soft darkness
laughing with wine, as it takes us.
Even the sun grows cold, without that caress

I can see her gold and red velvet in her hair
burnt rose and lavender, spill form burning censors
Soft candles cast her face in golden light
fade, and in darkness her eyes grow an ashen colour

I can’t cast away her eyes anymore, she waits by the sea
down by the seaside I will run, for she is waiting on me

Tuesday, August 10, 2004

Curse of Desdemona

Autumn and spice hangs on the air There’s a chill at morning through a foggy dawn Waiting out the morning in woad mansions Streams of sun infuse the waters of the fountain And we are quiet to hear though there is little to say My cousin Rick tells ghost stories of the house he says is haunted Golden ghost of a bear or man who once built the house Soon September and I'm taking stock Measuring the last winter against the dreams I seldom keep Wondering about the baby she held the last time we will speak Broken smiles shards of china Toward the cold end of sleep In the compound of my debts the scarecrow begins to speak

Monday, August 09, 2004

The Politics of Hell

Ever spend a weekend where no one really knows where you are between playing D&D, eating at taco bell, driving around the mall blasting speed metal, going to game stores, waiting for friends to get off their temp job at a warehouse and finally crashing at home to your parents crying that they called all the hospitals trying to find you? Those were the days! The point is to say I wasted most of my youth and didn't get much out of school. I didn’t get a 4.0, no AP classes, no extra curricular activities, no attendance records; well actually I did get one for least days attended and still graduating.

All I ended up with are some funny stories to write down and a serious gaming habit. Habit is right, I can't stop I've tried. I spend too much money on it and time that could go into something positive. I still haven't hung up that bird feeder I have been meaning to. But I'm thinking of campaign ideas even as I'm writing this. I go to conventions and hang out with weirdoes just to get my fix. I am running a game every other Thursday these days, not playing Fridays and Saturdays like I used to. And the people seem a bit saner, less chemically altered as well.

I started running them through the U series a couple of months ago. It's nice to see the modules of yester year and my group doesn’t know them so well. They started out exploring an abandoned house that was rumored to be haunted. After some furious exploration they found some smugglers were using it as a base of operations. An illusionist was using spells to enhance the stories of it being haunted, to scare off meddling kids. While in the module they were supposed to defeat these guys they made so much noise and constantly announced their presence that the smugglers go the jump on them. They hauled them off to a ship to be sold into slavery. The module normally has a big role-playing section about getting onto the ship but meh. They escaped to and took over the ship. Finally to get back to the smugglers hide out and give them what for.

The next module deals with a map found on the boat. The players basically discover that they have been trading with a colony of lizard folk. They were sent to investigate the intentions of this encampment which was deemed dangerously close to a human town. Upon investigation the Lizard folk where not outwardly aggressive, and just seemed to want to be left alone. Later it was discovered that the colony was driven out of their lands by an aggressor and were forming an alliance to fight the enemy. The party was asked to prove their desire to help by dealing with a problem. The problem was a giant croc that was killing lizard men. Yeah old school modules didn't make a ton of sense. It was always to get what you want you have to help someone with like five nested sub quests that were always someone wanting your help.

Well that’s sort of where it was left off. I only write cuz the people I run through this malarkey wanted an update.

Sunday, August 08, 2004

At work 8:38 on a sunday


Well i got called into work today which is sort of crazy. We had some more problems with a push of the service so i am here testing the fixes. We work toward these scheduled pushes of the web site and backend components here. The schedulers have an Evil Money that picks the dates for these pushes. This time it ended up pretty bad for everyone.

I am basically a lackey peasant here so I get roped into this a bunch. I was here doing this last night at 10 as well. I hope you realize the value of a good education now. Also; any and all levels of post graduate work in philosophy does not count! I used to flip burgers at McDonald's in Oakridge mall, knowing Hegel does me as much good here as it did there. The ability to quote Christabel on request; again little use. Liberal arts are generally a sham. Playing an insturment is a party trick, poetry might get you a date and philosophy well I'm still trying to find a benefit from. Learn a trade; heating / air conditioning, gun repair, biochemical research.

Well i might get out of here soon so im going to leave you


P.S. 11:02 and im still here wondering when im going to leave.

Thursday, August 05, 2004

Bacchus Plateau

Down streets of childhood which i hold close to my heart toward the darkening months of the year Up the steppes to dark houses where i called upon friends Finally to the Court of Madrid now forgot But once we first tasted freedom on nights that yet still live Philosophers and fools once kept court here glaring upon a city below Stolen wine in a cache hid in a husk of a car Bargain beer had been bought by some older friend who wanted the company more than anything else Schemes would be dreamt but mainly lies and jokes Somewhere in the memory though the scarecrow speaks.

Wednesday, August 04, 2004

Prog Primer

Some of you may need introduction to progressive music, which is certainly an influence on my life and therefore my writing. I wanted to come up with a few Basics to get you rolling

Rush: Caress of Steel
Pink Floyd: Meddle and The Final Cut
Yes: Relayer and Close to the Edge
Genesis: Selling England by the Pound
King Crimson: In the Court of the Crimson King
Gentle Giant: Three Friends
Nektar: Remember the Future
Grails: Burden of Hope <- Some call this Post Rock but it sounds like Umagumma to me

Prog Metal will be discussed later but there are a couple.
Viovod: NothingFace
Dream Theater: Images and Words

Tuesday, August 03, 2004

Goodbye to Romance

Well that last thing was pretty old, probably 11 years or more. I remember being proud of it when I wrote it, but I doesn't wear as well these days. Sounds sort of whiny like a Cure song or something by Roger Water's. My posts in no way represent a timeline of my writing, more a scattered haze of dates and half rewrites. I try to leave old things as is, but edit a bit here and there. In the past I worked songs into my writing, for some reason. You probably have noticed that if familiar with metal and progressive rock.

Really what I am doing here is forcing myself to write and re evaluate my old stuff. Get on me if you see me slacking. I think I have set this up so anyone can comment.


P.s. I'll work something up as recommended listening, prog can be scarey as can metal. Start with some REO Speedwagon for now. I loved them at 6! Or give the title track a listen.

Crescent Star

The TV buzzed, it's rainbow shaded drool. I think I had settled for staring at some sort of Wild America type thing, all I remember was hearing "the migratory patterns of the East Tibetan Musk Ox are tracked by-" Deep in the cobweb of synapses housed in my neural cortex, some stray neuron took offense at this visual broth which dripped into my eyes. With a superhuman will to power I turned the knob, draining all life from the screen and returning some to me.

I pulled my mortal remains up and found my feet. Staggering to the window, I found the thoughts coming once again. Deep and dark, Dire in content and extension. A plague of sorts contracted through past immoralities. I stumbled and caught hold of the window sill; it gave a tortured moan but gave none. I cast open the window, to let some of the night invade into the room. The cool of the dark air cut with the oppressive inside heat to the ends of a bearable 72.61 degrees, Fahrenheit of course, I hate Celsius. With dragging steps I moved my carcass toward the stereo. For a while I glared at the records and tapes strewn about the storage area underneath the Hi Fi system, in hopes to find something within which might still the hateful fire which engaged my spirit and soul. I unearthed a plain green album, printed with the words "Close to the Edge" in over stylized letters. I opened the album cover (a lot of seventies albums fold open) and gazed for a second or two at the picture inside as I always do. It was one of Roger Dean's works; he has always been one of my favorites. I let the cover rest on one of the speakers while I unjacketed my vinyl treasure. Side two, song one, the second of three on the record "And You And I". Hopeful, I lied back on the pile of pillows which I use as a chair and waited for the warm arms of the music to embrace me.

I sat there for awhile waiting, hoping. Praying. Pleading. But I found no more solace in the music than the TV. The sounds began with an odd struck chord, and then a few words mumbled together running with the swelling sound. The audio flood subsided, letting a sweet wave of acoustic notes roll in. Mr. Wakeman gave a melodic descending non-chromatic scale, spicing the sounds to something different. The notes ebbed and swelled, filling the room and my ears. But the honey toned heat of the music calmed my inward rage to no degree. The dread of self loathing consumed every territory of self. Leaving my heart, mind and black soul bleeding to die. My crimes too great for repentance or to just try and forget. Society and honor demanded atonement.

Somewhere deep within my failing mind. Down in a dark corner some hateful rogue synapse, formulated my sentence. From within my own mind the charge argued, decided and punishment handed down, I my own judge and executioner. I set to work on my retribution. I moved to my closet, and pulled down a wire coat hanger from the bar. All action cold, as though I was entranced or maybe just alienated from myself as a whole. I dug through one of my drawers, producing a pair of pliers and a lighter. With unholy intent I straightened the metal to an undivergent rod. I pulled the line through my finger, as though I were to work a dweomer on the metal. For a few minutes I worked my silent black arts upon the once hanger now brand. At long last I struck the lighter and set it underneath the metal. At first the brand burnt black, but with time and heat began to glow a dull orange. I drew in, giving my body over to this horrid will to power, and touched the fire to my skin. I let forth a yelp and withdrew. But the power of the super will took me again. I seared more, this time leaving a line an inch or so long about the width of a pencil eraser. The pain of my work conquered me; I had to pause while the pain subsided. I staggered into the bathroom and held my arm under the faucet for a moment. The cool water on my skin squelched the fire still burning within my arm, equipping me with the strength to start once more.

Again I took the lighter to the sear, heating into dull brilliance and again I set to work against my arm. I would do this a hundred times that night. My battle against myself, an inquisition on my own evil? One man to slay himself for the good of mankind? My mind drove my body on, feeding it with illusions of nobility. The long forgotten record, now finished, spun giving a cyclic hiss-pop, hiss-pop, though I cared none. Time and life outside my walls seemed at once to cease, Idle as a painted ship well -- I'll stop before a plagiarism suit. And no I don't only know that poem because of the Iron Maiden song. My work began to take on violent art. The brand of a quatrefoil star nearly complete upon me. Again I went to the sink to sedate the pain. The water washed out the evil spirits and agony. Once more I took to work against myself. This time to complete the star and etch a crescent below. I gave a long breath to expel the last of my demons. I looked at my body expressing nothing. The brand was truly horrid as it blistered over and wept. I thought for a moment that an "A" would seem more literate, but this was more..me. I lay back drained and only half awake. An hour and a half had past in a dying heart beat. My work at Calvary done. I wandered limply into my room. I stared at the books littering the floor my hate welling inside. Not one of them had but a word to save me from this. Zarathrustra my teacher speechless? And now the hell which drove me, burnt in permanence. Wandering from Gehanna to the Abyss, where to go now? I set to slumber and waited to for the night dreams to come.