eso es satanico.

2010-11-22T13:12:00.001-08:00

2010-06-07T10:25:00.001-07:00

I have just applied for a job in Victoria, BC. Yes, in Canada.

2010-05-19T18:36:00.000-07:00

The Coalesce show has come and gone. It was last week.
Things that meant the most to me about the show:

Meeting and hanging out with Mr. Brady McGarry, who also writes and occasionally edits my writing for SSG.
Having a couple of dudes in Coalesce recognize/hug me from the bunch of times that I've traveled to see them.

That about covers it. Coalesce were great and so were Converge (who were better) but I hung out at the side of the stage and just watched from there, where the sound wasn't quite as good. Part of me just felt... old. I still beat my chest and air-guitarred but I feel like some of the magic of these shows, especially the incredibly packed sold-out ones, is lost on me.

I had a better time watching Dosh at a far smaller club from a far shorter distance just earlier last week. He and his buddy Mike Lewis put on a hell of a show. They looped, synthed, made crazy sounds with their instruments and bantered with each other and the audience, which maybe amounted to about 80 people. Everyone should at least check out Dosh's myspace page to see what that dude is doing. I've seen him be Andrew Bird's entire backing band at least twice. The guy is a genius and his new record, Tommy, is great.

I'm surprised that this is the case but the Dosh show is more likely to wind up on my top five shows of 2010 than the Coalesce one.

Tonight I'll be seeing Sierra Leone's Refugee All Stars. I expect it to rule.

2010-05-04T15:57:00.000-07:00

Next week Coalesce will be playing at Neumos with Converge.
Say what you will about their post-Give them Rope material.

This is all that matters.

2010-05-03T17:35:00.000-07:00

My coughing situation is getting better. I went to the Doctor and was given a prescription for a Z-Pack. A Z-Pack is a pretty heavy duty anti-biotic and last time I had to take it it was for mono in my early 20s. It destroyed me and had me in the bathroom a lot.

This time, though, Beth suggested that I pop some pro-biotics at the same time to help with my stomach and really, they have. I'm still coughing, but the anti-biotics are done and supposedly they work for a whole seven days after they're all gone. That sounds kind of arbitrary to me but hopefully it'll translate to my being cough-free very soon.

Now I'm supposed to go to the gym for the first time in a couple of weeks. ugh.

2010-04-23T18:54:00.000-07:00

It's the second time I listen to Rob Swift's new one, The Architect. I was a big fan of parts of Sound Event. There enough emcees I didnt' necessarily like littered through the album, but the instrumental tracks were flawless. They made me bob my head and kind of made me want to dance, which is rare, given my inability to do so.

The Architect is his new one, and it's on Ipecac Recordings. I'm not surprised to see this-- Mike Patton has collaborated with the X-Ecutioners in the past.

(I should say at this point that I just checked Wikipedia and Rob Swift has released a number of albums between Sound Event and The Architect. I've been completely out of touch.)

The Architect is a very different record form Sound Event-- the scratching is there and he still sounds amazing but there's a lot of slow beats here. The music is a lot less funky and frankly, darker. I guess that's a little bit of the Ipecac influence showing. As far as I can tell so far, this record rules. Rob Swift is using a lot of classical soundtrack-y kind of music here layered over the beats and it 80's big budget horror movies to mind. I suggest everyone check it out, especially fans of scratching/turntablism.

2010-04-23T18:33:00.000-07:00

How am I sick again?
I was sick in January, I think. Maybe early February. I got a nasty cold after spending an evening on a bus. Beth and I had gone to Vancouver to see the Great Lake Swimmers for the third time (fifth time for her- she saw them once before we met and I bought her and a friend tickets to go see them in Victoria the night before our trip), and on the way back to the States, the Clipper broke down. For those who don't live here The Victoria Clipper is the only ferry that goes directly between Seattle and Victoria. It's the expensive way to travel back and forth, but it's faster than driving to Port Angeles in my little car and then taking the Coho Ferry, which is the other affordable way to make the trip. Anyway, on the way back after our Vancouver trip, the Clipper broke down. They put us on buses and sent us back through Vancouver and then south through the border.

At the border there was a a couple in which one of them was Danish. I guess she didn't have her papers together because those border patrol freaks decided to hold the bus for about 40 minutes. After the couple got their shit straightened out and got back on the bus, we got a flat tire.

Basically, I got back to Seattle at about 2am with a nasty cold.

And now I have something that may be bronchitis. It isn't a cold but my throat is all scratchy and I can't stop coughing. The thing, the real heartbreaker, the worrisome part, is that I'm not supposed to get sick this often. Since I left Miami two years ago I've been sick three or four times. Back in Miami I got sick fucking constantly. My friends noticed and always said "you're always getting sick" as if that helps anyone in any way.

Since moving to Seattle I've exercised more days than not and I spend a lot of time outside. I'm not supposed to get sick this easily. My coworker came in with his stupid bronchitis and I'm the only one who got sick.

What am I missing here?

2010-01-14T23:13:00.000-08:00

Jordan Crane is a master of making me emotional.
I just read The Last Lonely Saturday. I gave this little book to Beth for Christmas because last year I gave her another Crane book and she spent a good bit of Christmas morning smiling, reading, and ignoring the rest of us. She looked so happy.

This year I put The Last Lonely Saturday in her stocking and she looked at it and was excited to see it, but decided not to read it right then. I was surprised that she didn't push out the rest of the world to read her new Crane book this time, but I'm glad she didn't. She read it that night, I think, after I'd fallen asleep. The next day she warned me that it was a pretty devastating read. I figured as much, because the front cover made me think of the movie Up!

This book is devastating. There's almost no dialogue, and each page contains only two pictures. There aren't many pages, either. The entire book took maybe five minutes to read. Five minutes to bore itself into my chest and destroy what is in there. But then it was kind of happy, too. No way to explain it without spoiling it. I recommend it, though, to anyone looking for an emotionally resonant comic book experience.

2010-01-12T21:33:00.003-08:00

When the going gets rough, take a spinning class.
That's what I did today. I felt bad all day. A mixture of an awareness of my weight, my job, and the speed at which time is passing me by--this is what defined my day at work today. I listened to an entire episode the Best Show on WFMU and smiled, even giggled a little, but nothing changed. Beth and I emailed some and really, that's the best part of my day. My mood and state of gloom, however, stayed put. I refused any conversations at work today, sticking to my headphones and podcasts.

Enter the gym. I went right after work. I finished to an episode of the Slate Culture Gabfest that I had started listening to at work and switched to something more workout-able: Blu and Exile - Below the Heavens. A hell of an album. Really- I can't believe how good these guys are. The rhymes and production on it are so impressive. I took in the music and I had a decent workout. I thought a lot about whether or not I would hit the music store after the gym, and what I would buy if I did. I did a chest work out that left me sore (I went easy on the weight, though. I hadn't really done more than one chest workout in the last month.) and I walked/ran a couple of miles on the treadmill but I still felt the weight of that funk on my shoulders. I wanted to learn to dance, get a new job, build a house, write a novel, save a life, and finish school. I felt like I needed an injection of pride. Then I noticed a spinning class was starting. I noticed that a girl who I'd seen working out earlier was the teacher. I thought about her and the fact that she'd worked out but still was going to teach an hour-long spinning class. I wandered in and sat down on a bike. These are more streamlined versions of the stationary bikes one usually sees at gyms-- thinner and smaller. Nothing electronic about it. No dials, counters, etc. I sat down nervously waiting and doing what other people were doing-- spinning their wheels and stretching. Some girl walked in and asked me if I had removed a towel she'd placed on the bike. I guess she was saving her place on that bike. But there wasn't any towel there when I came in and I told her so. I was immovable. It was hard enough just walking into that room and getting on that bike. I wasn't leaving because some girl wanted to save her spot.

The music started, and the instructor, who had a bike in front of everyone else in the class, spoke through a headset microphone. She drove us hard and seemed nothing short of merciless to me, but she didn't give me shit when I slowed down and I really appreciate that. I could barely keep up with the class. I spent the entire hour moving, but a lot of the time when the rest of the class was doing stand up pedaling, I just fell onto the bike. This thing was hard to do. My hands were slipping off the handles from all the sweat and my shirt was so wet that it became a part of me. I kept looking at the clock and wondering when it would end. I wondered what the hell I was doing there, in a spinning class. I didn't belong there, I'm too damn fat. Everyone's always talked about how hard a spinning class is. My ass hurt bad from the stupid seat. I thought about all the pain I would be in tomorrow and I felt embarrassed every time the instructor looked my way and I wasn't standing on the bike pedals the way the rest of the class was.
I didn't stop pedaling, though. And I didn't walk out. And that feels good.

I may even do it again.

2010-01-10T22:44:00.008-08:00

I haven't finished a book in months. I don't know if its depression or a parasite or the winter (I doubt its a parasite. Too gross.) or what, but I haven't finished anything in a while.

Including movies. I've been to the movies, and that pretty much guarantees that I'll finish them, but I haven't watched anything at home, by myself, in a while. Only one movie, Sin Nombre, a Mexi-Salvadoran thriller about immigrants and murderous gangsters who hop trains to get into the states, have I been able to get through. Sin Nombre is a movie I totally recommend, by the way. A little generic--you know where its going for the entire film-- but it still managed to enthrall me with the violence, setting and characters.
3.5 stars, if Netflix had a .5 setting.

I also have only been to the gym a couple of times since late in November. Its been rough. I've thrown caution to the wind and eaten everything in sight. I've put on some weight.

Still, I did read one thing. It may not be a proper prose book but IRON MAN: Demon in a Bottle is the one graphic novel I've read in the last couple of months. I liked it, too. It was so much a product of its time in ways that I hadn't really noticed in my years of reading comics. It is rife with thought bubbles and commentary from bystanders. It even has an origin retelling so that new readers wouldn't be lost. They used to do that every few months and I always thought it was kind of neat that they did that. Everytime Iron Man did anything, someone in the background would offer something up like "Dickie! Come quick! Thar's a man in red-an'-gold armor just crashed in ahr back yard!" or after Iron Man flies away from an aircraft carrier, two of the sailors onboard have this exchange: "Hey Cookie! Y'all evuh see anything lahk that back in Omaha?" "You kiddin', Beau? A flyin' man in shinin' armor? Shoot, we don't even see stuff like that after tokin' corn silk!"

Clearly the writers and editors at Marvel of the late seventies thought the world was just crawling with hicks. Iron Man: Demon in a Bottle also deals with Tony Stark's alcoholism head on. Tony's a millionaire playboy with a big mustache and Burt Reynolds good looks who loves his scotch and his brandy, and his wine. Demon in a Bottle collects eight issues or Iron Man from 1978-79 (at least one of them was released while I was being conceived) and at least once in every issue someone notes the alcohol in Tony's breath or says "well, uh, you have had three already, sir. Are you sure--?" While Tony thinks things like "well, I am drinking for two men..." Himself and Iron Man, get it?! The whole book is a great if not a little-too-campy look into old style comic-booking. I don't know what 'age' its supposed to be (possibly silver age?) but I never paid too much attention to that stuff. There are other adventures and ridiculous villains along the way, but the underlying theme is that the world coming down around Tony and he hits the hard stuff to deal with it sometimes.

I'm just glad I read it and that Tony Stark got some help. The lush.

2009-12-17T14:23:00.008-08:00

I didn't care for this year much at all.
The summer was nice, I guess.

My favorite memory of this year involves watching Planes, Trains, and Automobiles with Beth. The "going the wrong way" scene in that movie had us laughing so hard that I almost peed. My stomach hurt afterward. Had I been watching that movie on my own, I maybe would have rewound the scene once. She had me rewind it... maybe ten, fifteen times? I thought we would never stop laughing. Even the obviously tacked-on heart-felt part at the end worked. She probably cried (she cries).

We were in the basement of the house I'm living in. My roommate, the owner of the house, has outfitted it with a TV and DVD player and an aquarium and a couch. My roommate is an apallingly inconsiderate person. Loud, grunting, rapping along to whatever bullshit Kanye song is playing at the time. It boggles the mind. We were in the basement of the house he so clearly owns and... he and I aren't friends. We say hello, we're friendly, and that's it. So being there, in that basement is a reprieve but it also feels as though we're stepping on someone's toes. And I'm always aware of that.

But when we grabbed dinner and beers and watched that movie down there--one of my favorite evenings of the last year--we forgot about all that and everything else.

2009-11-20T10:46:00.003-08:00

GOD SAYS NO by James Hannaham

I wound up liking this so much more than I expected to. I mean, look at that cover. It's brutal. It was weird to receive it from McSweeney's, a company whose aesthetics I'm usually in love with. They've never put out anything ugly. Everytime I recieve a package in the mail from them it's exciting, and not always because of the writing contained within. I openly judge these books by their covers. Just not enough to avoid reading them. They are paid for, after all.

I kind of hated it for the first two hundred or so pages. Then I realized that my response to the book shouldn't necessarily be based on my reaction the the main character, Gary Gray, a Christian who struggles with "SSAs" (same sex attractions). He's an innocent dude in denial about his sexuality, and sometimes the mix of that and his religion make him into kind of an asshole. It's a tough read sometimes, especially when his wife is trying to get him into bed with her and he responds agressively, as if he were in an argument.

Hannaham, who doesn't strike me as the most compassionate author (he thinks his book is a lot funnier than it actually is), really gets into this guy's head. The book is written in the first person and a lot of it is what runs through the guy's mind. Struggles, hopes, faith, and all. He really did an impressive job.

2009-11-13T10:32:00.002-08:00

Cat's Cradle is the best book my little book club has read so far, and I chose it.
So I rule.

I wrote a brief review of this book for another website, but it has bugs that won't allow me to access it anymore. So I'll do it here.

This is my second Vonnegut novel-length experience. The first one was Breakfast of Champions. Cat's Cradle is some high concept stuff about the end of the world and all the ridiculous circumstances that bring it about.

I've said this before, I know. I don't read the backs of books so I'm not gonna talk about the book too much here. I hate spoilage and I'll have no part in it! I'll just say that it really, really was a solid read full of satire and dark humor. It is equal parts terrifying and hilarious, and I wish everyone would read it. I feel as though everything Vonnegut was trying to do here was accomplished. All the funny, all the dark, etc.

Dictators are frightening. Religion, terrifying. And a good time was had by all.

2009-09-02T15:53:00.002-07:00

The Setting: Victoria, BC Fairway Grocery Store
A CREEPY OLD MAN approaches me and asks me the following:
"Why do women live longer than men?"
"Why?" I ask.
"Because they don't have wives."
I fake laugh and he starts to walk away. Then he turns around and faces me again.
"Why can't Barbie and Ken do it?"
I knew the answer to this one. "Because they don't have genitals."
He corrects me. "Because Ken comes in another box."

2009-08-25T10:37:00.003-07:00

With regard to August 13th's entry,
Yeah, Not so Much Anymore.

2009-08-14T13:36:00.002-07:00

Zoe’s Tale was a totally dissatisfying read. It was a means to an end and that end was to fill the holes in the previous book in John Scalzi’s Old Man’s War universe, The Last Colony. I ate up The Last Colony. I fell in love with the characters and their situation, lost in space, not being able to communicate with their own people because they were, in a way, exiled. I enjoyed their wit and audaciousness.

I remember picking it up on a whim before a trip and beginning to read it at the airport. I remember Jesu was what was playing on my headphones, while my ex-girlfriend read whatever it was she was reading and listened to whatever it was she was listening to. We had probably missed our flight and were killing time until the next one. That’s how we travelled. We ran late, missed flights.

Once I finished The Last Colony, I ordered the two previous books in the story, Old Man's War and Ghost Brigades. I ate them up too. I read them in record time, and I was ready to follow John Scalzi through this or any series of books. I hadn't read sci-fi this fun since Ender's Game.

Anyway, The Last Colony had massive plot holes and untied loose ends, and Zoe's Tale, the story of The Last Colony told from the point of view of the protagonists' teenage daughter, was Scalzi's attempts to fill those holes and tie those loose ends.

Zoe, the teenager telling the story, is all sassy and smart and her personality just bleeds through the pages. It's clunky and weird and there was a part at the very beginning where I worried she might try to fuck her female best friend.

I'm sure it's a hell an undertaking for an adult male author to write a book from within the head of a teenage girl, and I can appreciate the ambitiousness of the project, but in this case it didn't work. I'm not interested in spoiling anything about the book so I won't go into scenes that I disliked in particular, but I can say that I was a little relieved when it was over. I didn't want to see teenage Zoe ever again. I like John Scalzi, mostly, and I'll keep reading his books. Maybe even one where Zoe's an adult and it doesn't feel like Scalzi's so far out of his element.

Yeah.

2009-08-13T14:38:00.004-07:00

I'm Feeling Pretty Good.
I'm working out a whole lot and eating pretty well.
I've pretty much eradicated cheese in my diet, and I've been going to the gym on my lunch breaks.

I. I. I. I. I.

2009-06-13T16:58:00.005-07:00

The World Beneath is a book that I picked up at The Stranger's Slog Happy, a monthly happy hour event in which the Stranger staff invites their readers to come out and have a drink with them. There are food and drink specials, friendly people, and free books. Their literary critic brings out a whole mess of galleys and uncorrected proofs (same thing?) and people are invited to take books home with them, read them, and review them.

There's really only one thing about Aaron Gwyn's The World Beneath that bothers me, and I'll take a moment to get it out of the way-- it seems like a modern fiction cliche to have the story's hero be traumatized by something that happened to them when they were younger. The death of a child by being run over, the death of a wife by fire, the death a little brother by drowning, the discovery of an artifact-collecting grandfather in the middle of an old-people orgy sex ritual, etc. Each hero is haunted by what they've seen or whatever else life has dealt them, and it has a tendency to inform their decisions for the rest of the book. It also has a tendency for flashback-making.

Oh, well. The rest of The World Beneath is about a few different things, all of which revolve around holes in the ground and Native American myths. There are three characters whose stories are told-- each of them broken in a different way because of their traumas. JT, a half-Mexican half-Chickasaw boy, a loner, is obsessed with going underground to be with his dead father. Sheriff Martin blames himself for his little brother's death and spends his entire life trying to make good on that, and Hickson Creed fought in the first Gulf War and is suffering from PTSD. The story flashes back and forth between two different timelines and JT's own narration of some of the important events in his own life, and all three character's lives intersect.

The World Beneath is a relatively short, spare story that sadly, loses some of steam as it moves forward but still is a story very much worth your time. This is Aaron Gwyn's first novel, and I'm looking forward to the second.

2009-05-29T22:14:00.003-07:00

I really, really love what it is that James Kochalka does. And what he does is touching, cute, and shockingly violent at the same time. And by touching I mean surprisingly touching. I've read 2.5 of his books now and they always get me right there. I told him so. I pointed at my chest and said "Monkey vs. Robot got me right there, man." of course, that was when I'd only read Monkey vs. Robot. I've since read just less than half of the first collected American Elf book and now, Magic Boy and the Robot Elf.

It really is a thing of beauty the way he tells these seemingly nonsensical tales that grab you. Almost like a cuter, less developed version of a Jason story.

I suggest everyone go to their local bookstore, grab a cup of coffee, and read a James Kochalka book as soon as possible.

Then buy all of them.

2009-05-29T21:26:00.005-07:00

book clubs pt. 3

I actually read Couch before reading Whatever you do, Don't Run, but I wasn't sure what to say about it. I'm still not entirely sure.

Couch was a winding and long read. I was in it to finish it, and I did, but I didn't feel like it was worth the trip.

Three guys-- Thom, Erik, and Tree, decide to carry a mystical, nearly invincible couch to its place of origin. Kind of like a modern Tolkien story. People try to stop them, everyone wants the couch and whatever power/knowledge it may or may not contain within. There's even a Tom Bombadil character.

Couch was an adventure that really, really made me feel hopeless for the characters. Everything was so grueling and sweaty and dark and lost for so much of the book. I felt a little abused by the end. A little taken. Again, just like Tolkien only the end of The Return of the King was worth the trip.

I liked that the character of Erik was kind of a prick, and that Thom had so much heart. Tree was kind of useless.

I read this book for the Elliott Bay sci-fi book club and when I arrived I met a whole bunch of people who really, really seemed to like the book more than I did.

2009-05-09T19:12:00.003-07:00

Book club books for to meet people pt. 2.

The last book club went well. There were seven or eight people there, all ready and I guess somewhat excited to discuss The Last Night at the Lobster. It was me and a few ladies in their 40s, and everyone was really kind. I liked it-- people were interested in discussing even the smallest parts of the book and everyone laughed at everything I said.

Whatever You Do, Don't Run was another such purchase-- to get me into a book club and get me talking shit with a new group of people in Seattle. This time it was the new yelp.com book group, and it went well. The conversation was good, the coffee and snacks even better (Cafe El Diablo).

Take a look at the cover of Whatever You Do, Don't Run. You don't have to look too closely to see that the safari hat the Lion is holding on to was superimposed using MS Paint or Print Shop. It was as if they had no intention of making any effort whatsoever. I picked it up, looked at it, looked at the cost ($16, methinks), and almost didn't buy it. It's not as if Safari-guide non-fiction is something I was dying to read.

I got it anyway, and I guess I'm kind of glad. Peter Allison's book is a bunch of episodes, mostly ending in bad sitcom-style jokes, about being a tour-guide in Botswana. He's not a particularly good writer, but the he managed to pique my interest in what it must be like encounter a lion while walking alone in the Desert. Almost every story involves encounters with animals that can bite, stomp, sting, or squeeze you to death. Sometimes it reminded me of reading horror, because the danger level seemed almost unreal. At one point Allison parties with some of the guests, and one of them gets drunk and wanders off in the middle of the night. The assumption, the book has you believe, is that it is almost impossible that he hasn't been devoured by something.

Whatever You Do, Don't Run isn't a book that gave this book club much to talk about, besides all of the "oh, shit" moments it inspires. Oh, shit. Lions and snakes are like zombies, waiting beyond and sometimes within the small perimeter of the safari camp to devour you.

I guess, for me, Whatever you Do, Don't Run is the definitive summer beach read. You just read this simple book, and its over in a day. Occasionally you say "oh, shit" and you might giggle a couple of times, though I find that hard to believe. I'm going to send it to one of my rarely-reading siblings. I found it that readable.

Also, did I mention I got my job back just over a month ago? Things are better now.

2009-04-01T21:46:00.003-07:00

The Underdogs is a foul, foul book.
It was so hard to get through-- the translation was so weird and made me feel like very word of it was being read to me by fat Sgt. Garcia from the 1950's Zorro TV show that was always on the Disney Channel when I was a kid.

The Underdogs is supposed to be the great novel of the Mexican revolution, but more than that it is a book about the failures of the revolution. One gets the impression that Azuela really meant to undermine the Mexican revolution by writing it.

The tales it tells, kind of episodically, are about the heroism of the revolutionaries, then about their brutality as they rape and pillage their way through village after village.

The stories Mariano Azuela tells, especially with regard to Camilla, a woman whose life is greatly affected by this particular band of revolutionaries, are cut and dry. They're meant to be told that way, too, and it was very effective. When she's mistreated by the revolutionaries it is as though the author himself doesn't give a shit about her. I feel like that itself was one of the strengths of the book.

These men, they start off with nothing, they fight back, and then forget what they're fighting for. It was a devastating read. If you're interested in a short book that'll take you a long time because, seriously, it really is no fun at all to read, then The Underdogs is for you.

2009-03-25T23:01:00.002-07:00

I enjoyed the shit out of Last Night at the Lobster.

I picked the book up out of an interest in joining in on the fun at one of the many Elliot Bay Book Company book clubs and maybe meeting some people in this town of mine. We'll see how that works out.

Last Night at the Lobster is about a Connecticut Red Lobster on its final day-- corporate offices has deemed this particular store redundant and has decided to close it down.

Mostly we follow around a guy named Manny, the restaurant's manager, as he deals with his feelings on the final day, a massive blizzard, his feelings for one of his servers, and a staff that just barely wants to be there.

Every word of the book rang true, I felt. Stewart O'Nan really has a handle on what it is to have your place of employment close down-- it really is a big deal, a world-shaker, but with the exception of a few hugs and drinks with your co-workers, not the kind of deal where its really acceptable to get emotional in public.

Last Night at the Lobster is a very quick read (finished it in two days) but still entirely worth the $13 cover price, I thought.

2009-03-09T23:05:00.002-07:00

Stutter Island.
I don't understand how Scorcese's chosen this as his next movie.
I'm sure he'll make it into something watchable. Maybe even something good. But I'm gonna give this book away.

Teddy's a U.S. Marshall trying to track down Rachel Solando, an escaped violent mental patient who drowned all her kids, or something. He and his partner are on Shutter Island, the place where she escaped from her awesome ward of violent mental cases. Surprises abound.

I don't even feel like going over it. This movie will be Scorcese by way of Shyamalan. for real.

2009-02-24T05:41:00.003-08:00

I'm laid off.
I was given my walking papers just over a week ago.

The job search begins.
My work has been graceful enough to allow me to stay there until March 1st. This means I get medical until March 31st. Thank you for that, NC Machinery. I'll be taking advantage -- getting massages and acupuncture every week until the 31st. I have to make a dental appointment or two as well.
Yesterday I spent the evening at work. My shift ended at 5pm, I was home at about 10pm. I stayed at work re-doing my resume and applying for one job. It was an information intake officer, or something like that. I have no idea what it was or what the job entails, but I'm mostly qualified, based on their criteria.

There was an essay portion to the application, and I had to answer each question with a narrative about why I may be capable with a customer or someshit. This, and the fact that USAjobs.gov requires you to use their version of a resume and type up all your info again, took all evening. So now that they have my information, the government is going to be receiving applications for all kinds of shit from me. That took forever to do and it isn't worth it for just one job.

We'll see what happens. I know of people taking weeks to get their unemployment benefits. I hope I can get mine.

I'm worried I won't land a job soon.

2009-02-17T22:26:00.004-08:00

"My guilt is all I have left. If I lose it, I have stood for nothing, done nothing."

Maybe Ironweed is the darkest book I've ever read. I'm thinking that maybe it's also the reason it took me so long to read. I wound up reading a couple of graphic novels and even picking up a second book while reading it.

That doesn't mean its a bad book at all-- just that I found it difficult. I was embarrassed to find that one of the reasons I found Ironweed so hard to read was the length of the sentences. They'd go on and on, for three, four, five lines, and I, with the attention span of a beagle puppy, had a hard time following along.

I liked Ironweed. It moved me. I have every intention of reading at least one more of Kennedy's Albany Cycle books.

Ironweed revolves around Francis Phelan and his guilt. Francis is a (to use the term so often used in the book) bum who left his family about 20 years earlier when he dropped and killed his 13 day-old baby, Gerald. The book follows him and a couple of other bums on their quest to not freeze to death in the frozen post-depression Albany winter of 1938. The book also tells of his finally, after so many years, confronting his own sense of guilt for the death of his son and so many others encountered while on the bum. I don't know. Maybe frozen Albany is supposed to double for purgutory. It doesn't matter. When his dead baby's ghost, in a Six Feet Under-type speech, tells him that after he has redeemed himself he will "stop trying to die because of me," I felt it like a gut-punch.

When I hear that a book or a movie is "about redemption" I usually cringe at the sound. But I really, really liked this book. This is a book about doing really awful shit and almost destroying yourself over it.

2009-02-11T07:15:00.003-08:00

I took one picture at last night's Juana Molina show, and this is it.

It was such a nice experience being at an uppity joint like The Triple Door and watching someone as amazingly talented as her. Julie, who I met at the show and who arrived first, saved us what I felt could have been the best seat in the house.

I was disappointed to learn that Juana Molina was touring with a band this time, for the first time. I hadn't seen her on any of her earlier tours. The band didn't really hinder her in any way, but her (for lack of a better word) jam tendencies really seemed to show themselves when she was on the stage by herself. The musicians in the band she's traveling with-- a bassist and a drummer-- were phenomenal. Brilliant. But they were her backing band, and she said from the stage that they'd only known each other for four days. So of course they weren't going to be prepared to have her go off on tangents like the one she went on when she was up there alone. The shit she did while she was by herself-- I described it to Beth as being a "vocal kaleidoscope." I still haven't found a better way to describe what I heard her do.

I don't mean to complain, though. I couldn't have been happier with the evening. Five or six of us, mostly meeting for the first time (via Yelp), sat down to dinner and a phenomenal show. Everyone was perfectly friendly and just the right amount of chatty. I had a lot of fun. What a great night.

Edited to add: I can't believe I haven't yet mentioned Laura Gibson. It was such a pleasure to watch her, up there, by herself. She played her guitar and stomped her foot and sang her haunting and lovely songs. She was funny and loveable and just... perfect. I wound up buying her stuff.

2009-01-29T12:49:00.002-08:00

I've had a harder time reading the Ironweed by William Kennedy than I care to admit. I love the book, but the prose is winding and sometimes difficult to follow. Difficult for me is what I mean, coming from the school of Hard Case Crime and easy-to-read books of that kind. Ironweed is a dark, slow book. Devastating and full of horrid imagery and dark, dark humor. I started the book more than three weeks ago and I'm at about 110pgs, sad to say.

Also, though, it's The Wire that's ruining my life. Taking things over. I work, I work out, make and eat dinner, I watch The Wire, have a quick conversation with Beth, and go right to sleep. If I could find the time, I'd watch two, maybe three episodes of The Wire every evening. Disc 1 of Season 2 arrives from netflix tonight. You can guess what I'll be doing with my post-work post-gym evening.

I love this show. So far, I don't love it I like I loved The Sopranos or The Shield, but I do love it.

2009-01-19T13:28:00.003-08:00

Killing Castro is one of the more ridiculous books I can remember ever reading. I'm okay with that, though. I enjoyed the shit out of it and it was a good break after reading Unless, a very emotional and mournful book, a couple of weeks ago.

American dudes with guns and bombs go to Cuba and try to kill off Castro. There's the mercenary type who doesn't care about anything but money, the guy who is dying of cancer and wants to do this one good thing before he's dead, the dude who wants revenge, the guy who just wants out of the country because he's wanted for a double murder, and the savage stupid one who spends the entire book trying to rape the girl on the cover. Killing Castro seems to be like a somewhat more stupid version of that movie Valkyrie that's out in theatres now. History tells us the end of the novel and it really just is a matter of watching these guys get there. Silly action with dumb characters spliced in with a lot of really interesting historical bits, detailing Castro's rise to power.

There are loads of Lawrence Block fans out there that were dying for this reprint to come out, and I can only imagine they're happy with it. This was my first Block experience. And I'll keep reading his work as long as Hard Case Crime keeps sending it to me.

P.S.- Killing Castro takes the award for most embarrassing book cover, I think.

Also- Wow. Block originally wrote this in 1961. People have wanted Castro dead for a very, very long time.

2009-01-08T21:49:00.007-08:00

I went on a Gallery Walk tonight in Downtown Seattle. Pioneer Square, the neighborhood is called. I can see myself going on these a lot, in all the different neighborhoods.

It was a mostly quiet affair for me, since I don't really know too many people in town, but it was okay. Being alone in a roomful of people who are talking to each other can get a little grating but then I see these photos of Michael Kenna's, and I know the trip was worth it. The quietness of them-- I don't know how it made me feel. Like we live in a beautiful place, I guess. I don't know. I'm afraid I left my art critic hat in the other room. It doesn't matter. I got a little lost, I spent the better part of half an hour looking for parking, I was there alone, and traffic was a nightmare, but I felt pretty great when I saw his work on those walls.

Jennifer Harrison's work also made me feel pretty glad to be there. The paint literally jumps off the canvas, as if she were working in play-doe or cake frosting. The work is simple and repetitive, but that's beside the point. Just look at it.

One day I'll learn to express how art makes me feel, if I feel anything at all. A lot of the time I'm just happy for these artists, that their work is on display and that they're making a living from what I can only imagine to be their favorite activity in the world.

I don't know.

It should be mentioned that I am searching (and failing) for descriptive words to use in this blog whilst very comfortably using (wearing?) my slanket which the lovely Bethy bought for me. Thanks, hon.

2009-01-07T22:02:00.005-08:00

It occurs to me that Unless is the first Canadian novel I've ever read. It also occurs to me that Unless is the first novel I've ever read by a woman and about women. It left me wondering if the book was meant for women, a little bit.

Unless is a first-person narrative about a woman who has suffered a great tragedy in her life, the kind of tragedy of a tentative nature that manages to keep her mind on this tragic event throughout the entire book because beyond the sadness there's also a great deal of worry involved.

There's a lot going on here. The narrator, Reta Winters, is an author of what I can only describe as chick-lit. 'Comic fantasy' is what she and her editor call the books she writes. Reta also translates the memoirs of feminist author and Holocaust survivor Danielle Westerman, and Westerman's views carry over into a lot of the book. The reader follows along with Reta Winters while she deals with daily life, writing, friends, and family while also dealing with what else is going on, outside of her control. This makes up the bulk of the book.

I thought it was a solid, though very wordy, read. I'm glad I read it but I'm afraid my attention span made it so that some of the passages blurred into each other. It left me feeling as though there were something profound that the author was trying to impart that I must have missed. I don't feel as though that's the author's fault, though.

2008-12-30T23:10:00.005-08:00

Christmas was, I felt, a success. Yes, I had to have my car pushed out of my driveway by two nice strangers, but I made it out alive and the drive to Port Angeles, where I take the ferry into Victoria, was a breeze.

Beth and I had a good time and I was welcomed into a new family. I was treated as family. I was given gifts and I ate and drank with people that I'd only met a couple of times. They went out of their way to let me know that even though this time is hard because I'm so far away from 95% of the people I know, that I have a place there, in Victoria.

It felt good.

My mother abandoned Christmas family stuff this year-- since everyone's left Miami and/or become an asshole, she decided to go on a cruise. I guess she couldn't handle the idea of having a five or six person Christmas dinner this year, especially having had more than twenty people over just last year. I can imagine it must be difficult. So she decided not to play the game at all: my mother and stepfather took my sister and brother-in-law on a cruise. They're in the Caribbean right now. They skipped Christmas and they'll be skipping New Year's Eve, too. I love it. I think its brilliant and given the year she's had, she deserves it. I'm happy for her.

The Seattle snow week is over. The brilliant white sheen of the roads has been replaced with what looks like mounds of pissed-on used charcoal on all of the sidewalks.

2008-12-19T22:17:00.006-08:00

Ew.
What a stupid, sick, waste of a week its been. I think this may be my first ever Seattle cold. I've had Seattle sniffles before, but not like this. Not this debilitating stuff-ass bullshit. I'll be glad to be over it soon. I was working out a lot and seeing results and really... finally feeling like I was getting stuff done.

Aside from being my first proper Seattle cold, this week has also brought my first proper bit of Seattle snow. And by 'proper bit' I mean I've been indoors for the last two days. I'm mostly too frightened to drive, and anyone following the news should be. Some websites were making it seem as if it was the first time its ever snowed here. They made it seem as if It was smart to stay indoors not because of the snow but because the Dawn of the Dead was taking place outside. Right now there's a group of about 4 guys and a pregnant lady who are staying at the Southcenter Mall, waiting to be able to get out safely, apparently.

I've spent the last two days in bed, playing on the laptop. One of the things I did was play on both Yelp and Facebook way, way too much. An embarrassing amount. But hey, I don't really know anyone here so e-socializing, sometimes, especially when I'm snowed in and sick, is the way to go.

When not soullessly interneting and eating shit online, I've been doing a couple of other things. One of those things has been reading Nick Hornby's Shakespeare Wrote for Money, a book which I've been enjoying, to my surprise, a whole lot. Shakespeare Wrote for Money arrived this week from McSweeney's and I thought "no way this is the book of the month." The other ones had been so nice, these massive hardcover editions with embossed lettering on the covers and all that. this one's just an itty-bitty paperback. Either way, the book collects some of Hornby's columns from The Believer.

Hornby is astute, funny, and wordy. I like reading this a lot right now. I remember trying to read his column from The Believer itself and feeling like I didn't understand what he was saying. Turns out I just have a really short attention span, is all. I feel like reading it now, and I'm enjoying it a whole lot. I love finding his take on books I've actually read, like Allison Blechdel's graphic memoir Fun Home and books that are on my shelf waiting to be read, like Jesse Walter's The Zero (He liked both of them).

I've also watched two discs of Brotherhood, a Showtime drama about a couple of brothers-- one is in local Rhode Island politics, and the other is in the local mob. Hilarity ensues. Actually, not at all. This show, for obvious reasons, gets a lot of comparisons to The Sopranos, so that's what I'll do here. Brotherhood, while good, doesn't carry any of the pathos that Tony and the gang did. Brotherhood really only seems to have one somewhat sympathetic character, while The Sopranos really only seemed to have one or two that weren't. Yeah, Christopher Moltesanti was a abusive cheater who occasionally called Adriana a hoor, but we loved him. I don't know why, but we did. I think its because, for better or for worse, we watched him struggle. With not taking drugs, with who to shoot and who not to shoot. We felt for him when Paulie busted his balls and smelled Adriana's underwear while going through her drawers. We knew Cleaver would be an awful movie, and yet we wanted it to make him rich and famous so that he could leave the life behind.

But I digress-- my point is that the characters on Brotherhood are mostly abhorrent and mean and sad and unfunny. Still it gets four stars on my netflix queue. I haven't been able to explain why, though. I'm thinking Jason Isaac. I'm thinking I just like watching the guy, more without the blonde Malfoy wig than with. I'm actually pleasantly surprised at what a handsome dude he is-- I'd only seen him as Lucius Malfoy in the past. Now I never want to see him in that role again, because it'd somehow take away from his repugnant Irish gangster thug persona. The dude that it drives me crazy to watch sometimes is Jason Clarke. Guy looks like Chandler Bing only beat up. His face makes me uncomfortable. He looks like a garbage pail kid. Either way, its made for good watching. And Hornby's made for good reading. And I'm grateful for it. Also for the Slanket Beth got me. Thing's a lifesaver in this weather.

2008-11-23T13:00:00.003-08:00

Still not a cook, but still taking care of myself and learning new things. The latest thing I tried for the first time was the Easy Tuna Casserole from AllRecipes. Okay. So the word EASY is in the title. I know that. But I did it, and I did it damn well. I even added green peas to the mix and it made me wonder how anyone could have ever eaten it without the peas. Really. I'm the new God of Cookery. I've done mac and cheese, Curried Coconut Chicken, and this stuff. I'm cleaning up. No one can touch me. Ever.

Does it taste better than it looks? God, yes.

Thanks to girlfriend Beth for the recommendation. I think she recommended it because it said the word EASY in it. But whatever. This week (probably even today!) I'll try something new and exciting, cooking-wise. It won't have the word EASY in the title, either.

In other news, I've requested my transcripts from FIU because I want to start going to school up here ASAP. I hate life as it is right now and I've decided to do something about it besides watching movies and buying music I can't really afford. So I'll go back to school, finish the English degree, and then something else.

2008-11-18T21:16:00.004-08:00

I am not a cook.

But I really used to want to be, so badly. I just never got around to it. Learning, that is. I let my mom do it for me. Then my ex-girlfriend. I grew up on a steady diet of quesadillas, the only thing I've ever known how to make. I've always cut up leftovers (made by someone else) and thrown them into my quesadillas and called it 'mexican.' heh.

Last night, however, I made myself proud. I made Coconut Curried Chicken from a recipe I got off of http://www.allrecipes.com/. Did it come out great? No. I made it, though. This was no mean feat-- I made kraft mac & cheese for the first time this May, I think. I almost feel bad that I made enough for lunch for the next few days, because I want to keep experimenting and learning. So much fun.

2008-11-13T15:11:00.004-08:00

I actually danced. I can't believe it. Everyone was happy and moving around. My lack of rhythm wasn't an issue at all.

I had a blast. I love this freakin' town.

2008-11-01T18:57:00.012-07:00

So last night, Halloween, I saw Torche again.

They were pretty fantastic. So loud that there were moments where I didn't recognize the songs even though I've heard them a million times and seen them a bunch of times.

The guitarist, Juan, recognizes me from Miami even though he has no clue who I am. he's like "Hey dude, stick around. we're going to a party later" and I'm all bored and I still don't know anyone in this town so I say "okay." He's like "hey come have a drink with us" so I follow him into the bar. Then he says "hey follow me backstage" so I follow him backstage. Then he leaves me alone to talk to someone else.

I'm in the backstage area with members of Clouds (one of the openers) and some other band. They're passing around a joint. I say "uh... hi." One guy is having a beer, and one guy is having a cocktail. Probably whiskey. The bassist from Torche is back there and he's dressed like Subzero or Scorpion from Mortal Kombat but red. I don't know who that's supposed to be. I've never met him. I shake his hand.

Security guard comes backstage and looks at all of us. He points at the guy with the beer and says "you're out. come on." and the other stoned guys are all "why dude?" and the security guard's like "you're not supposed to be drinking back here." he pulls the guy with the beer out and throws him out of the club. The rest of us are all there, one of us has a joint and one guy with the whiskey and we're like "uhhhh."

Everyone walks out and leaves me with the roach. Fearing the security guard's return I put it on the table and leave. I see guitarist Juan and he's like "dude come to the party" but I have no clue where this party is and they're gonna take forever to load up. So I go out to the stage and say bye to the drummer (he's the only guy I really know, he's dressed like GG Allin) and I go outside to contact this dude because he invited me to a party but never texted me the address. I text him that I still need the address and he doesn't get back to me. I go home.

On my way home, car full of people pulls up next to me. This girl on the passenger side rolls down her window and says "This is a citizen's arrest."
I shrug and say "okay, why?"
and she says "For driving a PT Cruiser, motherfucker" and they speed off, laughing.

The end. Wah wahhhhh

2008-10-28T15:42:00.005-07:00

You know what's crazy? My last login was on Oct. 24, 2006. Just over two years ago.

How exciting. I'm going to be using this site again.

My SuicideGirls.com account is expiring and I don't feel like paying any money to rescue it. I've written hundreds of blogs there and met many nice people, but I'm busier now than I used to be. I don't want to pay for it anymore.

So Hello.

My name is Gabriel, and in the time since my last post I've aged two years, broken up with a girlfriend, gotten a new one, gotten a tattoo (my first!) and moved to Seattle, Washington from Miami, Florida. I've also had a couple of different jobs.

In the next two years I hope to go back to school. My other goal is to go camping in a national park or something like that. Also, to eat better and have less zits. I currently have more than any other 29 year old I know.

Anyway, I'll be around.

2006-08-01T09:32:00.000-07:00

And I Hope that you Die
And your death'll come soon
I will follow your casket
In the pale afternoon
And I'll watch while you're lowered
Down to your deathbed
And I'll stand o'er your grave
'Til I'm sure that you're dead

2006-07-23T13:06:00.000-07:00

My Awesome Boss:
Boss: Hey Gabriel, I'm gay. You know that, right?
(Grabs my forearm and rubs it, presumably in what he considers to be a gay way)
Gabriel: Oh, yeah?
Boss: Ahh just kidding. Nothing like a nice papaya in front of your face.

2006-07-03T10:44:00.000-07:00

O Pioneers!!! / Saw Wheel split CD
How awful it must be to always be compared to that Against Me! band. Unfortunately for them, the comparison will follow them around for years, and not without reason (the exclamation marks at the end of their name doesn’t help). O Pioneers!!! is a band made up of two members: guitarist-vocalist Eric Solomon and drummer Jeff Johnson. Together, they play jangly, scream-laden punk rock that fits comfortably into that bourgeoning punk rock craze ‘folk-punk.’ Except for the monotony of the shouted vocals, the music is high-spirited and fun with plenty of shout-alongs.

Saw Wheel also fall under the umbrella called ‘folk-punk,’ only with an entirely different sound. Saw Wheel is singer-songwriter R.J. Cresswell “and friends.” On this particular album his friends are guitarist Richard Crenweldge and bassist Justin Smith. Cresswell’s side of the record bleeds Americana the way that Avail, Rumbleseat or Hot Water Music would—sometimes sincerely, sometimes sarcastically. Saw Wheel uses a more conventional approach to folk music, often accompanied by tambourines or a second acoustic guitar. His lyrics invoke images of rattlesnakes and plastic Jesus statues on the dashboards of what could only be old Chevy pick-up trucks. Using wit and sarcasm, Cresswell warns other countries not to “tread on U.S.” or they will “surely die.”
Layout and CD illustrated by uber-talented punk rock fixture Christy Road. (Team Science)

2006-06-30T17:17:00.000-07:00

Consular 7inch ep
Consular are a heavy, heavy band. Loud and slow, they chosen to take the Sabbathy road trailblazed by bands like Cavity and Sleep. On their debut 7", Consular have proven their ability to pull off sludgy, repetetive riffage like pros. The songs don't vary very much, mostly the listener is slowly forced into a depressive funk (and this is a good thing) while the monumental riffs and feedback move forward at a creeping pace and the singer screams maniacally.
Just try to imagine smoking weed out of a hollowed out skull. I'd love to see what they do when they get the opportunity to play with a full length's amount of space. (Fatal Apathy)

2006-06-30T16:54:00.000-07:00

Fun Home
I've just fished reading Fun Home - A Family Tragicomic , by Dykes to Watch Out For cartoonist Alison Bechdel and it has to have been my most literary graphic novel experience yet, as she references and even echoes Proust, Hemingway, Joyce, and even Homer throughout her memoir while telling the story of growing up with her father, a closeted gay man who may or may not have killed himself as a result of his secret. It's a solid book, its tale told in a non-linear fashion with various anectdotes scatterered throughout like a completely serious version of Family Guy. The art is lovely, drawn in black and white with different shades of grey and blue water-colored in.

Wordy as hell, but I loved it.

2006-06-28T06:44:00.000-07:00

Was it everything I needed it to be? In a word- Yes. Brandon Routh's spot on impersonation of Clark-Kent-by-way-of-Christopher-Reeve was almost eerie. Kevin Spacey, as usual, is unfuckwithable. He could do anything. There were a lot of moments of levity in Superman Returns and each of them was handled perfectly. I can't wait to see what Bryan Singer does with his upcoming Harvey Milk biopic.

2006-06-22T06:38:00.000-07:00

Coming back to Miami after being at Bonnaroo for 4 days is mighty depressing.
As usual, I'm killing time before leaving for the gym.
Last Wednesday I spent the night at a friend's place in Atlanta. This guy is looking good. I mean, he was a pretty chunky dude when we were in highschool, but now he's all protein shakes and gym visits. Generally speaking situations like this make me feel bad, as if I'd turned out worse than this guy somehow. Sometimes I find old friends of mine on the internet and read their blogs or whatever and find out that they're married Chicago art critics. It's downright depressing.
Not this time, though. This time was different in that seeing my ATL friend (who is fit and owns his own home) is serving as something of an inspiration. He's actually been online with me lately, giving me workout tips and everything.
It's a great thing to have nice, supportive friends.

2006-05-05T05:43:00.000-07:00

How has it become so hard to get to the gym? I have all the time I need in the morning to get there, and yet somehow it's becoming increasingly difficult. I used to go almost every day, but I haven't been in a month. I'm in my gym clothes once again, convinced that I'm going, but I'm sitting here, at the computer instead. I've done this four or five times now. I need to stand up in the next ten seconds if I want to get anything done.

2006-04-28T06:34:00.000-07:00

Yes, Mel Gibson is funny.

2006-04-27T20:41:00.000-07:00

I am 135 pages into The Da Vinci Code, a book that reads as if it were written for people who spent hundreds of hours chasing Carmen Sandiego on their Apple IIes and were raised on Hardy Boys mysteries and young adult novels about 13 year olds carrying spellbound daggers that lead them to their egyptian twin brothers, who just happen to be enchanted, well-meaning mummies.

I am one of those people. I recognize the silliness in it, and I love every page of it.

2006-04-26T12:52:00.000-07:00

Frankly, I expected this disc to be bullshit. Not so much a retrospective as it is an analysis of their break up, Refused are Fucking Dead is a loving piece of hardcore history that doesn't suffer from over-reliance on live footage, band pranks, or any of the usual trappings of band documentaries. The documentary itself is about 40 minutes long, and the extras include both of their videos and a few live cuts that were thankfully left out of the documentary itself. I haven't been this ecstatic about a purchase in a very long time. Beware those who would call this "artsy," because of it's chello based score and it's complete lack of laughs, for they are lame.

2006-04-21T10:28:00.000-07:00

Actually,

things have changed, somewhat.
Partially, it's this crazy diet that she and I are doing. Instead of hitting the snack machine, I'm eating prunes (yes, prunes) and smoked almonds at work. Also, after reading a particularly effective essay on what I'll call 'America's Additude Problem' and a good shrink visit, I've decided that I need to retool how I feel about this job. Yes, it's a hassle and yes, I have to speak to Serbian people about (really) faulty satellite equipment that has been sold to them by a company that is, in essence, ripping them off, but the hours are good. The pay is good. The benefits are good, and there's always overtime available to me when I need it. While I may be further sacrificing my dignity every day that I work here, I'm also allowed to come in late every day and call in sick whenever I need to.
Life is fine. I live in a great apartment with two great women and three cats. We eat well and watch Netflix movies and television. It's all I require.

Also, the game XIII rules.

2006-02-10T16:01:00.000-08:00

My feet stink so bad. I'm working today, at Globecast. I just took off my shoes, and my feet are stinking everything up. Working here makes me want to hurt myself. I just had a Butterfinger. Ten minutes from now, a cigarette.

I can't wait until I start sneaking in liquor.

2005-10-10T15:26:00.000-07:00

Philadelphia was nice.

I was well fed and the weather was pleasant.

2005-09-07T16:39:00.000-07:00

Diarreah is my Lifestyle.

This would be my third attempt at posting my very first blog post and it isn’t even a particularly good one. I started my account at blogger.com in hopes of finding a little inspiration in my friends’ writings and possibly writing on a more regular basis.

So far, it hasn’t worked.

Something did happen though, not at all related to this here blog. Someone asked me if I wanted to write music reviews for their magazine. He wanted short, concise, Punk Planet style record reviews. Free records aside, the temptation to see my name in print was too much for me to handle. I’ve written a short review, an audition of sorts to send to him.

Genghis Tron – Cloak of Love ep
Finally, a band with a relatively new take on things. Poughkeepsie, NY’s Genghis Tron play techy, high-pitched screaming grindcore not unlike that of Discordance Axis and they mix it with electronica. They switch genres several times throughout each song and amazingly enough, with all the extremely fast-to-slow tempo changes, it never gets tired. The electronica portions are extremely lush and sometimes downright lovely only to be cut away by ridiculous blast beats. In Cloak of Love, neither genre feels at all half-baked. Thankfully, the only thing about Cloak of Love that begs a complaint is it’s short length.