Regarding Reviews

As you can tell from my reviews, there is a tendency to write positive, almost glowing reviews most of the time. Most if not all the albums I've reviewed have gotten pretty high scores, the average being an 8.6 (or a 9 if you want to round up). Except for Lucha Libre, that got a 3 because it fucking sucks.

As such, I'd like to write reviews about stuff that I don't have some sort of attachment to (read: an album/book/etc I haven't listened/read/etc because I wanted to but because some second or third party suggested it)

So if you're reading this, give me something new to review so we can get some variety instead of just giving 8.6s and 9s to stuff I'm already pretty familiar with.

Doubt is

Doubt is the fire that tempers a man's armor. It is that gauntlet that tests a man's character and separates the strong from the weak and extracts the best or worst from a person.

There is a lot of doubt surrounding me lately. I want to chalk it up to circumstances I am able to fully control because then I'd be taking responsibility and holding myself accountable for my actions rather than running and hiding like a little bitch.

I want to chalk it up to things I know I can control but in all honesty, I don't know why there is so much doubt. There is doubt cutting at me and I don't know why it is like this. I recognize that things are out of control but I don't know why or what they are exactly.

I have theories and ideas but nothing concrete. Nothing conclusive, nothing solid, nothing set in stone, nothing that I can be certain of and be able to take care of as a result. And this pisses me off.

I have simple expectations and that's what they are: simple expectations. They are nothing more than what is required and nothing out of the ordinary, nor are they asking the world or the moon or the world and the moon of someone.

But there will always be opposition to anything. This one of the things I will never understand. Is it laziness? Is it a wanton disrespect for things you are supposed to do? Is it because people are generally fucking stupid and vile creatures? I should hope the last one isn't the case.

All I can really do is grin and bear it because at the end of the day, I have no power and cannot control these things.

Yet.

Review: Hesitation Marks

Hesitation Marks
Nine Inch Nails
2013

Nine Inch Nails is back.

This is a phrase that has been repeated often since Trent Reznor announced the return of Nine Inch Nails to the touring circuit earlier in the year. Generally speaking, with a tour comes a new album and this is where my review starts.

2013 presents the end of that self-imposed touring exile that Trent declared a few years ago. In retrospect, it wasn't that pretty long gap from touring we expected but it was still painful in some ways. Everyone bitched and moaned about the (temporary) end of touring but ultimately accepted it. And we were all mollified as Trent gave us the scores to The Social Network and The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo. And some people really dig How to Destroy Angels. I personally can't get into them but that's because my brain is still wired in a way that connects "Trent Reznor" to "Nine Inch Nails." Anything else just doesn't truly register unless the mix is intriguing but that's another story for another time.

2013 also represents a standard gap in the Nine Inch Nails discography because 5 years is the average wait time between albums. So the wait is really nothing new. As is the content on Hesitation Marks.

Now, when I say this I don't mean he just copied and pasted everything so it sounds exactly like the older albums. What I mean is that it's a return to form that perfectly calls back early NIN while still being fresh (though admittedly this is due to the fact that we've all been craving more NIN material for years now and the hunger for it became more savage when it was announced that a new album would be released).

Hesitation Marks covers a nice range of what we've come to expect from NIN despite covering old ground thematically. Again, this isn't really a bad thing because it's always good to be understood and Trent always does a great job putting into words what your savage snarls and cries cannot communicate clearly. And despite repetitions in themes- Trent has always done this but he's always done it in a way that continues to be fresh and keeps it from being stale. It isn't just slight tweaks here and there to get by on technicalities, it's always doing something different to the envelope and surprising you with the result.

Musically, Hesitation Marks could fit almost anywhere. It could easily sound like a follow-up or even predecessor to most albums in terms of structure and tone, among other things. Hesitation Marks harkens back to previous albums with: the seething, snarling, danceable nature of Pretty Hate Machine; the cohesive, articulate, and concentrated fury of that old friend who understands you (The Downward Spiral); the unleashing of the intrinsic animality achieved by stripping structures down to more base elements (With Teeth), the tasteful balance of catchiness and bleakness (The Slip); and haunting atmospheric presentation (Ghosts I-IV).

Hesitation Marks represents a great blend of what makes Nine Inch Nails a unique musical entity.

I realize how much I'm hyping up the album but after repeated listens, this is exactly what it is to me. Now, you could dismiss my claims as me just being excited about the concert for which I already purchased my tickets to, or the fact that I've been anticipating new Nine Inch Nails material (and tour) for a while, and you could be right but if that were the case, this review would have ended with that last bit above.

And as you can gather, this is not the case and there is more to say.

While Hesitation Marks does indeed do a good job of tastefully treading older ground, it doesn't do so without flaws. Shades of The Fragile are still found in that some songs do feel like they run longer than they should and as such falter in the creation of a haunting atmospheric experience. They feel like they're just repeating themselves at points, or that they should have ended maybe a minute ago. This creates a degree of tediousness. It also carries traces of Year Zero. Now, I liked that album but the detachment from "standard NIN" is what makes it something of an odd duck with me. As such, there is something about Hesitation Marks that carries that at times makes the album feels detached and less personal. This could probably have something to do with the tracks that often feel like they should have ended sooner and unfortunately teeter on that line that divides running time into "juuuust riiiight" and "shoulda trimmed it down."

When all is said and done, Hesitation Marks is a damn fine album and without a doubt declares

Nine Inch Nails is back.

9/10

Review: The Slip

The Slip

Nine Inch Nails

2008

I am biased when I say that 2008 was a good year for Nine Inch Nails, from my perspective at least. Touring, 2 albums within the span of 2 y- hold the phone! 3 albums within the span of 2 years and this is where my review starts.

2008 was indeed a good year for Nine Inch Nails. But an even better year for fans. Instead of being treated to a routine wait period of at least 5 years, the waits were considerably shorter: With Teeth was released in 2005 and people were shocked by Year Zero in 2007 and even more surprised by Ghosts I-IV in 2008. Imagine their faces when a few months later they got The Slip, for free!

Get it? Trent gave people The Slip! Ha!

Joking aside, I was just as shocked by such a release schedule. Granted, it's been done before but for someone like Trent Reznor to deliver material so frequently was almost unheard of. What makes things more interesting is that The Slip was written and recorded in three weeks and still stands head and shoulders with the rest of the Nine Inch Nails discography because it blends in quite well with the rest of the Nine Inch Nails discography. The themes frequently covered are present (though one can argue that there is a change of sorts, or at the very least the approach has shifted through the lyrics) and the fact that the production was basically rushed only enhances that which Trent Reznor articulates so goddamn well every time (angst, anger, tension, among other things). Letting You, Discipline, and 1,000,000 to name a few. (The latter two I remember very clearly as being played live in 2008 during a concert for the Lights in the Sky tour because I had to stop myself from shrieking like an excited schoolgirl, as they opened the show.)

The music on The Slip tends to vary from "standard NIN" to "Year Zero level NIN" to more "'casual listener'* friendly NIN". That's to say: while Trent maintains his violent poetic delivery of eloquent snarling, he still manages to create something that can serve as an introduction for anyone who wants to check out Nine Inch Nails but is turned off by a few seconds of anything preceding a cover of Johnny Cash's "I Hurt Myself Today to See If I Still Feel" and "I Want to Fuck You Like an Animal", and of course "Will You Bite the Hand that Feeds You". The Slip is catchy as fuck, while still maintaining a bleak and haunting atmosphere for the listener when it counts: Lights in the Sky.

Regarding that bit of facetiousness above: face it. Some people are like that and are unwilling to dive into something if it appears more bleak than beautiful because they'll focus too much on the bleak and "he keeps saying fuck over and over", rather than simply accepting that this form of expression speaks volumes and resonates with a ton of people, and for that reason IS beautiful. Bleak is beautiful sometimes, friend.

By that same vein, The Slip is an album that only proves some people are fucking geniuses. The album straddles a fine line on which the music shifts stylistically to appear to belong to a different album and band altogether but make you think they're ripping off Trent Reznor. Along that same line, you recognize elements in style and delivery from previous albums (though not right away on the first listen). By that, I mean, The Slip slips in (Jesus, did I really write that?) over time to deliver a satisfying listening experience that snarls "This is Nine Inch Nails."

*I couldn't think of a term that wasn't "full of foot in mouth."

8/10

Review: Ghosts I-IV

Ghosts I-IV

Nine Inch Nails

2008

It was a few weeks before September of 2008 when I listened to Ghosts I-IV for the first time. It was probably late at night, as is often the case with the things I do. I'm just more of a night person, especially these days but that's not the point. The point is that I first listened to Ghosts I-IV sometime in late 2008 at night and this is where my review starts.

When one thinks "Nine Inch Nails", a lot of things come to mind. One of the few things that don't come to mind is "an instrumental album." That being said, it's interesting to listen to Ghosts I-IV for that reason alone. It's not exactly what you'd expect from Trent Reznor but that's by no means a bad thing. In fact, it's in many ways a good thing as it expands his range and audience. More people listening to Nine Inch Nails is always a good thing. More people listening to any band is often a good thing, despite what hipster and music snobs may tell you.

I tend to think of Ghosts I-IV as more of a venture into quieter Nine Inch Nails territory rather than a radical departure. If anything, the listener can make the listening experience more or less of what Reznor may have intended. The energy is still there only in a different exploration of what one has come to expect from the name Nine Inch Nails. By energy, of course, I mean the sonic elements that we've come to expect that have always spoken for us what we can't articulate. You can still hear the ferocity and ire simmering, the only difference is you don't have Trent Reznor snarling something bizarrely poetic this time around. He lets the instruments do all the talking.

It defies expectations that have been set by preceding albums though to be fair, there have been shades and hints from the very beginning. Some are more obvious than others ("A Warm Place") and others have been not as blatant ("That's What I Get"). And it had always been a wish of mine to listen to Trent Reznor do something entirely instrumental. I'm sure others might have been keen on seeing an instrumental release by Reznor, and they got it with Ghosts I-IV (and would get it again with the scores for The Social Network and The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo).

I find Ghosts I-IV to be excellent reading music. Especially when re-reading Neil Gaiman's Sandman from time to time. The fact that I can listen to this album and read is what makes it one of my favorite instrumental albums of all time. It can set the tone for a number of different books and stories without distracting you from what you're reading (thereby allowing you to gain control over your focus.)

If I really had to think of one flaw is that sometimes the pieces bleed into each other in an undecipherable blur. The distinction isn't there sometimes unless you actually look at the track name (the fact that it's all in numbers makes no impact or difference to me). Though I'd imagine one would have a hell of a time trying to think of titles for every piece. As such, it becomes very easy for Ghosts I-IV to disappear into the background though it ultimately does a good job at haunting you because you don't always have to rely on spoken words to carry a message.

8/10

A mi barba

A mi barba:

Te extrañaré

Mi cara estará desnuda
Vulnerable
Se verán mis labios y lunares
El viento y el frio bailarán libres
No me podrás proteger
Contra la nieve, la lluvia, el sol
El viento, el frio, el calor

Adios, mi barba

Te extrañaré

Lo rojo mezclado con negro
Como sangre derramada en el espacio exterior
Cobre brillando en la oscuridad
Como en la luz se rie una sensación de paz
y calmada violencia

Adios, mi barba

Te veo en otra estación
En algunos meses
En algunas semanas

En mis memorias

Adios, mi barba

Review: Year Zero

Year Zero

Nine Inch Nails

2007

I remember Year Zero came out when I was in my last year of high school. I remember hearing someone remark about how amazed he was that "[he] heard [Survivalism] on the radio so soon after [With Teeth had been released]" In this context, it doesn't make sense at first glance but what he meant was that it's shocking to hear new Nine Inch Nails material less than 5 years after the last album had been released. The good kind of shocking, mind you. When I got my hands on it, I was fascinated not only by the album cover but by the fact that the CD changed colors in temperature and this is where my review starts.

What has always fascinated me about Year Zero, apart from the fact that the CD changes color in temperature was what I barely remember reading about its production and the image I have of Trent Reznor playing keyboards in a cramped van to record the album, as he probably did while on tour. Remember, he recorded Year Zero while still on tour for support for With Teeth. What also fascinated me was how different it sounded from stuff I had heard, especially with the extensive marketing campaign behind it. Not necessarily bad but just different.

I understand that it's Nine Inch Nails but is it Nine Inch Nails in name only? There is no denying that Year Zero definitely has a political slant to it, as the term Year Zero refers to- what can in a nutshell be described as, a purge of ideas and history. Everything prior to the year zero is destroyed (physically or metaphorically) and considered irrelevant, and everything after replaces the old way of life. It's not the most difficult thing to understand.

That being said, the same traits that make Nine Inch Nails are still present but something different looms above all things. It's not necessarily the presumably rushed nature of the project because that's never hindered anyone before (Led Zeppelin's Presence was recorded in 18 days, pretty rushed when you think about it), or the sound which for all intents and purposes is NIN- screwing with the definition of industrial, or even the tone because there is still aggression in the lyrics, violence in the delivery, and that same connection between NIN and the listener is still there. I really think the "different" is the political slant.

Up to this point, I had never really thought of NIN as a medium for any sort of political discourse but that's the way it was back in 2007. Frustrations over a government led by what many people believe to be a jackass (I try my best to stay out of politics so I never offer an opinion unless I know the facts), and the ceaseless war that cost a seemingly endless amount of lives and money. Everybody was pissed in some way, shape, or form.

With all that being said, Trent continues his tradition of articulating the (political or otherwise) listener's frustrations and mess that dwells inside their heads. The album opens strong with Hyperpower!- one of my favorite tracks on this album and goes right into The Beginning of the End which makes the paranoia and mistrust of any gubernatorial entity very vivid. Subsequent tracks like Survivalism, The Good Soldier, Capital G, only serve to make the political slant far more obvious than before. Speaking of which, in 2008 I attended my first Nine Inch Nails concert. During one of the songs, I believe it was Capital G, they displayed an image of John McCain (Republican presidential candidate) and as they performed the image morphed into that of George W. Bush. The crowd went fucking nuts.

While, Year Zero is a Nine Inch Nails album, it doesn't particularly feel like one because it's less personal, more detached and more political. That doesn't mean it's bad only different than what we're used to.

8/10

Review: With Teeth

[WITH_TEETH]

Nine Inch Nails

2005

I recall listening to With Teeth for the first time, somewhere near the end of high school and definitely during my first year of college. Well, definitely a couple of songs over and over. You know the ones. I remember being left in awe at the album both as a whole and in pieces and this is where my review starts.

With Teeth has always stood out as one of the best NIN albums for me. Where The Fragile seemingly faltered, With Teeth did the opposite and lunged forward and stood tall. The funny thing is that With Teeth is actually kind of far from "standard NIN". This time around, it's not just Trent playing every instrument himself with a heavier industrial synthesizered* lean like before. This time around the instruments extend beyond the norm in a more obvious way. You know, you can actually tell with greater ease that there are guitars and basses (redundant) at work. You also have to give it up for guests who do a damn great job (Dave Grohl, for instance on drums on tracks like Only and Getting Smaller).

Trent delivers on all levels, as if he learned from the misstep that is The Fragile. The level of aggression on With Teeth is awesome, to say the least (and also to use the most commonly used phrase of adoration). It is only enhanced by the fact that it at least seems less synthesizered* and therefore comes off as more human, more primal, more visceral. The same vicious NIN we've come to love over the years brought one step closer to you, the listener. The angry, seething, appreciative listener who more often than not, seeks someone to understand them. As do songs like Only, Getting Smaller, Sunspots, Every Day is Exactly the Same, and The Hand that Feeds. 

All of articulate what you have a hard time expressing sometimes: your anger, frustration, horniness, conflicts with your own self, an intense dissatisfaction with being blinded in a cyclical routine with almost no end. A chorus of increasing anger "... there is no you / there is only me / there is no fucking you / there is only me" serves as a perfect example of how With Teeth is that album that speaks volumes about what's trapped inside you, just dying to break free, to scratch, claw, fight, and bite its way out.

* That term is only there so we could be on the same page.

10/10

Luigi!

Nintendo has been celebrating 2013 as "The Year of Luigi" and there's probably something to be said about that.


Awesome!

Of course I'll explain why that's awesome.


Growing up, my cousin and I played Super Nintendo every weekend. That was the rule: only on the weekends were we allowed to even touch the Super Nintendo. Since it belonged to my cousin, that somehow granted him the privilege (or right) to play as player 1 and since we only had Super Mario World, he got to play as Mario. By default, I played as player 2.


Luigi.


Now, most people would bitch and moan about how unfair it is that the younger relative should get to go first or that he would take / knock the controller from my hand whenever it was clear that I actually knew how to play or that it was wrong for him to transfer most of my character's lives to his.

Well, I did complain about the last two, not so much the first one.

Of course, only children complain about the first fact because it still hasn't sunk into their growing minds that someone can do with their property as they please: claim first use, give away their property, or be a jerk with it and not lend it out or anything.

I didn't complain about being player 2 and playing as Luigi because off the bat, I already sensed some sort of connection with Luigi, as strange as it sounds. Coming in second (despite being older than my cousin), being tall for my age, and not getting much recognition for the things I did. Granted, 5 year olds don't often do amazing enough things to be recognized. Though, turkey hands and using glue and safety scissors correctly are remarkable in their own right. But that's not the point, is it? It's about actually noticing that figure at the edge of the limelight who has always been there but not been embraced.


That being said...


I commend Nintendo for giving one of its major (though not often unsung) heroes some major recognition. It's been long over due, in my opinion, given that the first game is called Mario Brothers. Brothers. Not just "Mario" or the "Adventures of Mario and nobody else". Luigi has always been there for me, for you, for player 1 and for player 2 (and recently 3 and 4 and beyond). He isn't made to hog the spotlight but is still just as recognizable as Mickey Mouse and Mario yet doesn't get the acclaim he deserved, until now.

For Luigi to finally get some recognition is great especially since it means he isn't being still treated as just a second fiddle.

Speaking of second fiddle...

His trophy description in Super Smash Brothers Melee probably put it best:


Although Mario's younger brother has always played second fiddle, Luigi finally garnered the spotlight with his very own game, Luigi's Mansion. Things are looking up for the eternal understudy; he's even picked up his own rival in Waluigi. The day he's referred to as the "lean, mean, green machine" may not be too far off.


The only thing that seems to bother me is how often Luigi is portrayed as a coward. It never really used to be this way. Prior to his own game, Luigi's Mansion, he was just as brave as Mario is portrayed and always tagged along, a willing companion and partner. But then they made him into a coward. There's something strange about that.

He's just as capable, if not more, than Mario. He can one-hit K-O opponents, the green missile is a devastating move, and of course, he jumps higher and farther than Mario in the Doki Doki Panic ripoff.

This should make him less of a coward and more of a reluctant hero but of course, there's a bright side to everything. His perceived cowardice can be used as a means of disarming foes. This works, by the way. If you've played Super Mario 64 DS, you'll remember that enemies' texts often deride and underestimate Luigi at first. And when you beat them, their texts are reactions of frustration, surprise, and a twinkle of admiration. Take that, suckers.

Furthermore, one could see his bizarrely implemented cowardice as an obstacle for the player to overcome. A symbol of what one can overcome while achieving great things: restoring peace to a haunted valley, restoring peace to the Mushroom Kingdom by defeating and making your foe acknowledge you by name, and conquering your demons and those who would oppose you in your tasks.

I'll stubbornly see Luigi as that reluctant unsung hero who should get more recognition and less as a coward but I take great comfort in knowing that at least Snake respects him, and so should you.

Thanks, Nintendo, for giving Luigi some major recognition.

Happy Year of Luigi, everyone.

Packaging

A few weeks ago, I asked a friend for help running an errand because I have no reliable means of transportation other than public transportation. After finishing the errand, we went to stuff our fat faces on wings at a well-known wing restaurant. I'll let you figure out where we stopped to it; it's very popular as I'm told. Eventually, we went to a Barnes & Noble because I really wanted to buy a copy of Judge Dredd Complete Case Files. (Note: I'm not an asshole. He wasn't just used a chauffeur for the day, I told him to pick out anything he wanted and he did).

Since then, I've bought stuff from Barnes & Noble in person and online. Especially since I paid for the membership (which is paying for itself thanks to free shipping and the discounts). No, I am not a sell-out; I'd have to be getting paid in order to be a sell-out.

After that first Judge Dredd book, I went back to that same location and bought the Complete Case Files 02. Much to my dismay, however, some asshole had flipped through the pages and torn a hole through one and damaged the other pages as well. You bet your ass I was fucking pissed- still am, by the way.

I went back the next morning and explained my situation: "I don't want to sound bratty but there's a hole in a page and some of the pages have been damaged. I'm guessing somebody flipped through the pages and damaged them." The guy at the register understood completely and did the following: took back the damaged copy, and ordered a fresh copy to be delivered to me because that torn copy was the last one in stock at that location.

After I left the store, I ordered a copy of Tank Girl: Apocalypse online because I can and because reasons.

I'll just skip ahead to a few days after both orders came in, separately (obviously because I ordered them at separate times and in separate methods).

The packaging for both books was... perplexing. Tank Girl was in a folded thick cardboard folding box that you open by pulling some flaps on the sides and then tearing open.

(Part of) my most recent order (Bone: The Complete Cartoon Epic in One Volume and Seven Samurai) arrived about an hour ago. They came in a box with only crumpled up paper on top to protect the book and DVD set. I was very grateful that the people at UPS didn't accidentally damage the contents which could have easily happened given the pretty poor packaging.

I'm gonna be honest. The packaging Barnes & Noble uses honestly confuses me, and frankly sucks. Well, the box + crumbled paper combo sucks the most, the other method is surprisingly efficient though I would prefer the book to have been in shrink-wrap to further protect them from potential scratches when rubbing with the cardboard. A foolish notion but not entirely improbable, is it?

I've ordered some stuff from eBay and the packaging the sellers have used is way better. Maybe that's because I didn't order books and movies from eBay and because that's just the seller's preference: envelope and bubble wrap.

That being said, at least my copy of the Complete Case Files 02 came in without torn pages or anything of the sort.

As for the "part of" comment. I ordered Tank Girl: The Odyssey and am waiting for it to arrive tomorrow. It should have arrived today as well because I ordered it along with Bone and Seven Samurai. Hell, it would have made more sense for the box to contain Bone, Seven Samurai, and Tank Girl. But I guess stock is limited here and there and all that fun stuff.

Hmm.

Review: The Boys

The Boys

The Boys

1977

"Have you heard of The Boys?" she asked.
"Nope." I said.
"Well," she replied, "They are an old punk band and they [have] a song [called] 'Soda Pressing'."

At this point, I looked for and listened to the song. I was instantly fascinated by the song because it had been a while since I had heard exuberant ferocity. I was taken aback by what I saw as a neat pun. Neat, once you put the lyrics in context, by which I mean "listening to the song."

The song gave me a glimpse of this band and I knew I needed to hear more, so I looked up what album "Soda Pressing" was on and this is where my review starts.

The Boys' self-titled debut was released in 1977. You know, the year that is arguably "the" year for punk. Or at the very least, the year in which punk burst onto the global stage. As a result, the world was exposed to lot of bands (who were either starting or had already been around and just got a lot of attention as a result of the explosion) like The Sex Pistols (formed 1975, first album released in 1977), The Clash (formed 1976, first album released in 1977), X (formed 1977, first album released in 1980), The Germs (formed in 1977), and a long list of other bands that I won't write out because it'll seem like I'm just dropping names rather than actually proving a point about how 1977 was a great year for punk and how even though 1977 gave us a lot of bands, some would argue that the large number of bands (many of which are now iconic or legendary in some circles) also meant that other bands would go unnoticed unless you were a connoisseur of some sort. Some bands include The Vibrators, The Saints (though they were around since 1974 like The Ramones) and, of course, The Boys.

Ahem.

The Boys' self-titled debut is a ferociously merry 14 track assault on the senses that you'll enjoy. The reason I say merry is because the lyrics aren't as snarling (or arguably cynical) as other bands at the time were, nor are they riddled with a chaotic sense of gloom and doom that one would come to think of punk. Though I'd like to make it clear that this does not mean I would write off The Boys as pop-punk or proto-pop-punk or anything of the sort because of the ferocity which I will get into after you stop reading this sentence. I say ferocious (or ferocity, if you want to split hairs) because the sound is where it's at, for me.

Chainsaw buzzing distorted guitars, fast and steady pace, energy, and traces of humor. The album starts strong and never slows down.

I admit that the flow of the album can get a little awkward at times but never to the point of derailing the album. I also admit that I lied when I said the album never slows down. It does but not the degree one would think when that phrase comes to mind. It doesn't awkwardly halt to put down the chainsaw buzzing guitars and pick up a mandolin, is what I'm saying. It merely shifts gears to a comparatively less-fast speed for a moment and then goes back to being that raucous grinning machine ("First Time" following "Soda Pressing" and "No Money" or "Keep Running" following "Cop Cars"). Not an extreme shift but a noticeable and enjoyable one.

What I also enjoy about the album is the instruments primarily how the piano is used throughout as a foil to the guitar and drums. There you have the guitars and drums being furious, and then there's the piano just standing there smiling and bobbing its head while the guitar and drums continue to rage on and on.

The only problem I can think of, if any, is that the album isn't long enough. But this issue is remedied with enough searching and perseverance because you'll eventually come across the 1999 re-release that includes as bonus tracks some of their even more lighthearted work as The Yobs and their Christmas themed music, including a damn fine rendition of "Run Rudolph Run".

Overall, a very enjoyable album that you can listen to over and over.

"Teeeeeeeeeee hee" she later said.

9/10

Questions Nobody Asked (an Update)

It's quite obvious I haven't been providing content lately. And it should also be obvious that I am still alive.

I'd like to take a moment to answer questions nobody has asked, and in doing so provide an update on the state of things (or thangs) around here.

Dude, what the fuck?
Uhh. I've been gone because I haven't had a stable internet connection that would allow me to stay connected long enough to post something. As of a few days ago, this has changed. I now have a stable internet connection.

What have you been up to?
I have been working and, in the process, making money. That's how I can afford a stable internet connection and purchasing comic books, as I've mentioned earlier. And seemingly useless stuff from eBay. I've also been growing out my facial hair so my pen name isn't a total lie. The red is still there. I have to trim it for work though so I can't walk around with it untamed like before.

Will you vanish again?
I'll try not to. I plan to stick around for as long as I can and provide you with something to read that will entertain and maybe make a spark fly in your mind.

So yes, I have a stable internet connection which I will use to post more often (that is, more than one post per month).

As for those Nine Inch Nails album reviews, you bet your ass they'll all be done. In fact, I'm giving myself a deadline: before I see them in November. And while I'm on the subject of reviews, I'll be expanding beyond just music album reviews. Keep an eye out for reviews of written and filmed works: books, and movies.

Things are looking up.

I might buy sunglasses.

Review: Lucha Libre (by Jerry Frissen)

Lucha Libre

Jerry Frissen, various artists

2006

In this review, I use "issue" in the same way one would use "trade paperback" or "volume" though it'd be easier to just say "collected edition", wouldn't it?

I've been reading and buying a number of comic books lately. 

Mostly Judge Dredd (by way of the Complete Case Files), Batman (including but not limited to: Court of Owls, City of Owls, Black Glove), some of Jeph Loeb's work (Spider-Man Blue, Daredevil Yellow, Hush), The Walking Dead, Preacher, Supreme Power, and I'm waiting for Bone to come in the mail.

I've enjoyed most of what I've been reading though I must have admit that reading Jeph Loeb has made me recognize plot twists right away even if it's not a Jeph Loeb story. Or maybe my cynicism, or the fact that a number of his stories however gripping and well-told are ultimately formulaic. Read and enjoy some of them and you'll recognize what I call "The Loeb Blow."

Anyway, recently, a friend turned me on to some issues of Lucha Libre, a series by Jerry Frissen that has some of the things I enjoy and am interested in: supernatural creatures, lucha libre, and weird premises.

Unfortunately, that's where any praise ends because as I told my friend after reading the first of the three issues he lent me ("Introducing: The Luchadores Five"):

"Lucha Libre (1) suffers from poor execution and not enough delivery even for setting the foundation. It doesn't set the stage very well. It's okay at best. It breaks under its own weight in the sense that the premise is interesting but the delivery isn't."

And it's true. The premise of luchadores facing off against werewolves in Los Angeles (I'm already very interested) should be a goldmine of some really weird shit and striking artwork but maybe that's the problem. It bit off more than it could chew and instead of delivering something relatively unique, it delivers a middling, irritating, reading experience. 

Characters are introduced, scenarios are hinted at, motivations barely acknowledged, and then you turn the page and the story's over. Now you're staring at something else (Profesor Furia's brief exploits, which admittedly are more entertaining than the main attraction).

The characters are far too shallow and uninteresting to follow or even give a damn about even with hints of what I'm assuming are supposed to be interesting backstories. There are hints at something greater but subsequent issues serve nothing to the purpose: the next two issues just introduce more characters with fainter glimpses at backstories and motivations. 

Even the format in which the stories are presented are very restricting and actually hinder the work. It shouldn't be confined to small rectangles but should imitate the violent graceful poetry of lucha libre. Go on youtube and check out some lucha libre videos and you'll have an idea of what I'm talking about.

The whole time I was reading the issues I kept thinking "Get to the fucking point already." but the fucking point never arrived. Maybe because of the story-telling that failed to deliver on a wonderful premise or because I got tired of it and stopped after the third issue (Hele mei hoohiwahiwa). Maybe it actually gets better but I honestly don't care enough to pick up where I left off.

Lucha Libre promises the world on a silver platter (come on, admit it: you thought the premise was pretty fucking cool, or at the very least worthy of a read) but ultimately delivers nothing.

That's all I really want to say because this review would just get more erratic and whiny.

Honestly, do yourself a favor and find that cartoon ¡Mucha Lucha! It's far more entertaining, well-written, and interesting than Lucha Libre could ever hope to be.

3/10

Bruises

I was coming out of work several weeks ago at night and something stupid happened. Something that made the obvious more obvious, and made me hate one of my then-new hobbies.

I used to enjoy sliding on wet ground which let me slide for a few seconds without the need for a skateboard or other board type transportation vehicle object.

Unfortunately, something happened that caused me to slip, fall on and bruise my ass and break my phone.

The next day or so was- for want of a better term, torture... of sorts: I wanted to contact people and play games on my phone (namely: Judge Dredd vs Zombies). There was information to be shared, obtained, moronic jokes to be told, etc. A need was not being filled. There was an emptiness that went on without being cured. That was gruesome. But what was more gruesome was realizing just how crippled we've become if we're not glued to our screens.

We're so reliant on technology that one can probably feel bugs under the skin if they're not logged on or something.

Sick.

An exposed weakness is something venomous, odious, and vile with me. Primarily, when I have to own up to it and even more so when it's something so goddamn stupid.

I lived comfortably without a "smartphone" for years and less than a week reduced me to whiny little brat.

Fury.

I no longer enjoy sliding down that wet hill at night.

A Very Long Countdown Now Begins

After 2 failed attempts, I got my tickets to see Nine Inch Nails this November! Words cannot describe how excited I am for this event. It's been five years since I last them tear it up live and in five months, I'm going to bruise my palms and lose my voice once more. I can't wait!

Please forgive the lack of activity for I am without a stable internet connection at the moment. I am, however, still working on those Nine Inch Nails album reviews. Those will be completed. For real. Please don't look at me that way; I'm serious.

Thanks

Eau

The concept of fragrances has always been something of an attention grabbing mystery with me. I can appreciate people smelling nice (and hygiene) in general but I never understood the concept of fragrances enough to use one regularly, or even occasionally. I'll stick with deodorant, thanks.

Prior to last week, I hadn't worn cologne or any fragrance in about 3 years and when I did, I only did so for one day. Prior to THAT, I had only worn cologne once in my entire life.

I think the reason I never really gave it much thought was because my sense of smell has always been fucked up. I've only begun to notice this fact in recent years. I think it stopped working at full capacity a few years ago, or I just never really noticed until recently when I had seemingly run out of things to occupy my mind and as such was forced to think of other things.

Really grasping at straws, my mind's eye is.

That being said, I appreciate good hygiene and smelling good. It often makes me feel ashamed when I walk somewhere on an errand and a girl who smells really good walks past. I feel bad because I probably skipped a shower and have absorbed the smell of the city, and sweat. Fun.

"If I can smell her, she can probably smell me."

It's not like I do this on purpose, it just seems to happen frequently that whenever I'm on an errand, I skip a shower because I'm gonna come back home and do nothing for a while anyway. Similar to that, "why clean up when you're only going to get dirty again?" phrase. The only difference is I'm not going to let myself smell like a dumpster.

You ever smell that? It's fucking disgusting! It's one of the few things my sense of smell CAN register. I know it registers because it makes me wince, recoil in disgust, and gag.

With that, I'll probably start wearing cologne more frequently. Once I figure out the unnecessary complexities behind selecting a smell to adopt and present.

Maybe someone will say, "Damn, you smell GOOD!"

Review: The Fragile

The Fragile

Nine Inch Nails

1999

I don't remember when I first heard The Fragile. Nowadays, all I can tell you is that this album never really connected with me the way the first two did even though it follows the same themes as The Downward Spiral and Pretty Hate Machine, or the stuff Trent Reznor writes about in general. Despite that, it didn't reach me on the same level as the two or even Broken (if we're going to start grasping at straws). That being said, it's always difficult to live up to the hype and anticipation and follow up an amazing album four year later. And it must be more difficult to be expected to deliver masterpiece after masterpiece and this is where my review starts.

It must be a daunting task to live up to the expectations set by your previous work which was received so well, with such enthusiasm and acclaim. It sets the bar very high and makes the fall much higher and probably hurt more. That being said every time I listen to The Fragile, it sounds like a chaotic if not sloppy attempt to blend everything that's come before into something new.

I really don't remember what the circumstances were when I first listened to The Fragile. I was probably still in high school finally discovering Nine Inch Nails. Or I might have listened to it after I graduated, I don't know. I do know that the title of the album can work as an indicator of his condition but also the condition of the album.

While I wouldn't call The Fragile my favorite NIN album, or even put in the top 3, I have to admit that in its flaws and shortcomings there is a some art, albeit unintentionally rehashed and watered down.

Because there really isn't much for me to say about this album is probably why this review is so short. There's something missing in the Fragile. Yeah it has some great tunes like Starfuckers Inc, The Day the World Went Away, Into the Void, which carry a lot of anger and traces of that Nine Inch Nails ferocity but there's something missing that keeps it from becoming a good kind of stand-out. It doesn't make any sense either. Everything is there, Trent is still at the top of his game, the themes that he writes about so well are there, the music is good but it still doesn't click. Maybe it's treading on familiar ground in such a way that feels overly disconnected and detached.

It drones on more than it destroys and that's probably why The Fragile feels so fragile.

7/10

Fingers and Accusations and Questions

A lot of the things I do seem to be subject to accusations and allegations. Most of the time, these allegations are bullshit and are really products of someone projecting their insecurities and self-loathing onto me and my actions. I'm not the bad guy here, your unresolved psychological baggage be! Is!

I'm sure I'm not alone when I say this. For example, you ever talk to a girl? And just behave casually around her without any ulterior motives? I know you've spoken innocently to at least a handful.

Why is it that if I even just talk to a girl, it's believed that I want to get in her pants? What if I'm flabbergasted and trying to get somewhere? What if I need to know if I just missed my bus? Surely, these aren't indicators that I want to get it on! Right? Or have I been living underground beneath a desexualized rock and have been living ass-backwards while the surface has become so sensitive and hypersexualized and riddled with so much fear that simply making eye contact has become code for "Let's have intercourse"?!

Yes, that's what we (bad) writers call "hyperbole." But let's be more polite about the examples.

Why is it believed that because I do something good for someone, I'm not just trying to help out but trying to get something else out of it? Is altruism really dead? Or have we become so cynical and insecure that we have to hate something?

Just more unanswered questions that can turn a person into a misanthrope. Or a hermit.

If I was weak enough and had a choice, I'd probably opt to be a hermit. Simply because there'd still be hope for some shred of happiness. And wisdom. Whereas misanthrope implies anger and hatred. Things that to the Dark Side of The Force lead.

So, the next time someone accuses you of trying to get in their pants simply because you asked for the time, raise an eyebrow in disbelief and ignore them. If you're holding onto someone's hand because they're about to fall off a cliff and suddenly get bitchy with you because they think you want their (probably) nonexistent gold, you should still help them up because letting them go and plummet to their death is called murder. Murder is bad. You wouldn't want to deprive someone of life and then get thrown in jail or murdered yourself, would you?

Chomp!

Despite how colorful a diet containing more vegetables probably is, I don't think I could ever go from being an omnivore to a herbivore (or vegetarian or vegan). I should point out that I have no problem with herbivores (or vegetarians or vegans) as long as they aren't arrogant, judgmental assholes about my eating habits.

I say omnivore because to say I'm a a carnivore would imply that my diet consists of meat only. That's not true as I also feed on fruits and vegetables. You know, plants. Surprisingly, in equal proportions rather than horribly skewed in one particular direction.

I could never go for cutting animal or animal products out of my diet (for extended periods of time) because I was raised to eat animal and animal products. It's embedded too deeply in me to make me abandon it, if only for a short while unless there was a very compelling reason. Compelling reasons include health reasons and that's really it. I could and would give it a shot but it's not something I could uphold for long periods of time. It's almost dear to me. If you try to take away my steak and I will hurt you. It's natural for humans to devour the flesh of other animals, we've been doing this since pre-recorded history and even with all the propaganda and self-righteous judgmental behavior against consuming meat, we are showing no signs of slowing down. This is especially true if that bizarre bacon addiction is any proof.

Tangent: I like bacon, I really do but it gets so goddamn annoying when the internet (or any other walk of life) is saturated by it. Can we not appreciate something in comparatively quiet awe? Must we resort to praising it as the second coming of Christ? Can't we just chill the fuck out?

I'm fine with the current system of how meat gets processed. I'll admit that it still needs a lot of tweaking but it doesn't bother me to the point of becoming a self-righteous plank and denounce it as the epitome of evil. If there is ever a less cruel way of processing meat, we'll all be much happier. The same way that if there's ever a less cruel way of harvesting, picking, collecting, and distributing plants we'll all be much happier.

What? There's no cruelty when it comes to picking plants? Who the hell told you that? Who picks fruits and vegetables? People. Look up the conditions that they have to deal with and then tell me that system is free of cruelty. Go on.

Fuck. I've made myself really hungry for steak now.

Cy

Cynicism starts with cy! Cyanide also starts with cy! Coincidence? Probably. It's not like they can both kill a person. Well, actually they can metaphorically kill parts of a person in different ways. Cynicism will probably kill a person's self-esteem and ruin their day. Cyanide will kill you. Unless you're a Bond villain; in which case, it'll just cause your upper jaw to dissolve and disfigure your face because that's totally what hydrogen cyanide does, Mr. Silva.

I never really noticed how cynical people are because I don't spend my time thinking about them as much as I do thinking about myself or the things I need to get done. I know that I can be cynical sometimes but I tend to hide it very well by being very silly. So much that I can't remove that mask thus blurring the lines between who I am and who I want to be and who I thought I was pretending to be. When cynicism strikes, it stings like hell.

I know I'm supposed to ignore it and just move past it but it's infuriating to have someone piss all over your accomplishments and ideas with their brand of cynical self-centered idiocy. How can one begin to justify wrecking someone's accomplishments with their own petty bullshit? Is there a chemical in the water supply that causes lack of empathy in people? Does misery really love company?

A nerve-wracked beginning driver who essentially climbed a fucking mountain should be able to receive some sort of encouragement rather than get scorned, mocked, and have his confidence reduced to nothingness. As a result of this, he's gonna wanna drive the car off the road!

My advice, if I'm allowed to give any, is to ignore the cynicism and just move forward even if it's difficult because people suck and the poison seeps into your veins and travels to your brain, disdain disdain disdain.

Bureaucrazy

I have to admire people can keep their calm and composure under fire, day in and day out. One day of dealing with the joys of bureaucracy is enough to make a normal person lose my [sic] mind because things will get so mixed up. There are various sides to the same argument/idea/what have you. This is not a new phenomenon because after all, this is not a fixed, strictly binary universe- there are gray areas that cannot be ignored.

I also have to admire those who can put up with bureaucrats on a frequent basis. I'm convinced that bureaucracies are in place to grind down someone's patience in a grand scheme to enforce mind control and mass sheepery as a result of those who lose their patience and end up doing some really stupid shit because they're fucking tired of waiting and calling for almost 6 months for a fucking ID card.

You know, the usual.

Review: The Downward Spiral

The Downward Spiral

Nine Inch Nails

1994

I told you I was going to keep doing this!

I remember the first time I heard The Downward Spiral. I was 16 or 17 and still in high school. This was when I still just getting into Nine Inch Nails and by that same vein in the process of having my world rocked and life changed. It might sound like hyperbole but it's the truth. If I hadn't dared to venture beyond classic rock, which was the only genre of music I listened to at the time, I may have been a completely different person. I might have had a bafflingly narrow view of the world and appreciated things far less. It might seem like an odd thing to say but I really do think that The Downward Spiral was key in my mental and personal development, especially since I was at the edge of what is essentially childhood and about to fall into that vacuum known as adulthood. The first time I heard the album, I knew I was listening to something that "special" can't even begin to describe. This album upon subsequent listens as become a part of me the same way the discography has etched itself into my mind, and this is where my review starts.

The second full-length album entitled The Downward Spiral came a lengthy 5 years after the stunning debut of Pretty Hate Machine. Where Pretty Hate Machine laid the groundwork, and Broken (an EP) built upon it, The Downward Spiral marked not only a change in direction (as Broken was sheer sonic violence) but an improvement, further refinement and also an enormous leap forward, not only in sound but in the way the album is presented. There's far more cohesion and what I would call concentrated fury in this album than there was on Broken and Pretty Hate Machine. The Downward Spiral presents a more evolved NIN though the album itself is rife with chaos and passion. For that reason, The Downward Spiral continues to resonate heavily with me and other individuals.

This album communicates with the listener beyond the surface level. It says what is or was on your mind at the time or at some point. "At some point" still probably resonates with you because it's so deeply embedded in your thought process that when you revisit it, even unintentionally, the ground feels so familiar and you feel as if it hasn't been that long since you left.

It's like seeing an old friend and carrying on a conversation as if it hasn't been 10 years, or moved away, or something like that.

The Downward Spiral stays with you.

Sex, angst, isolation, a desire for peace, refined violent poetry, humor, raw imagery, and letting go, among other things.

If you want examples of these, just listen to Closer (also known as the sex anthem of everyone who wants to break free and abandon their inhibitions), March of the Pigs (the humorous fight song that stirs and swells an ocean of ferocity found inside us all), and Hurt (the song that you come to when you are feeling down and need something to reassure you, or at the very least liberate you if only for 6 minutes, my sweetest friend). I realize that these are the songs that are the most popular from this album but it's because they resonate with everyone on some level. Of course, the abuse and angst (in sex flavor- damn, did I really just say that?) and some dark humor is also present in Big Man with a Gun (just read the lyrics), and Heresy if you want something sacrilegious that you can also dance to and make you question (or at the very least voice what you're thinking when it comes to) religion (or the blind worship of an omnipotent deity). You know, stuff that you're probably all about when you're an angsty teenager who digs anarchy (and stuff you tend to revisit because things aren't going well and you need to hear someone who gets you). A Warm Place speaks volumes without having lyrics. Like a hug.

This album understands and will always understand you.

10/10

Calluses

My guitars need new strings.

This is and has been a recurring concern for at least two years now.

My classical nylon string guitar that I've had for about 15 years now is always in bad shape: always covered in dust, always going out of tune, always in need of at least one string.

My electric guitar is also in desperate need of strings. I have not changed them since I got it back in 2005. Except for the top string (the thinnest one). That one's been replaced a few times.

No, the problem isn't that they need to be fixed or have components replaced. It's that they need to stop being neglected.

The lack of new strings or strings in some cases should only serve as challenges to overcome but there is a wall. I've been here many times before but this time, the wall seems more daunting than ever. It feels almost permanent.

Something that would bring me hours of joy now serves as a flickering reminder of the hopes and dreams that I once held so close to my heart.

At one point, I really did want to be what the kids call a "rock star." You can thank countless hours spent listening to Black Sabbath and Led Zeppelin for this, and being hypnotized by Santana's brilliant guitar work for this. Also, I was 16 and easily impressionable.

Then, when I was 18, I wanted to be a session guitarist. This was me trying to be an adult and take on adult responsibilities by taking a job but then I remembered that I couldn't read sheet music to save my ass.

I tried to start several bands in high school but people lost interest quickly, never had interest to begin with, or just got lazy and never stuck to a rehearsal schedule.

Last year was probably the last time I would ever try forming a band. I admit, a surf band is probably a relic of the past but a lot of people would disagree with a statement like that. The Space Cossacks, Laika and the Cosmonauts, The Mermen, etc. Still, the fact that equally enthusiastic people bailed on me again killed any enthusiasm I had for that fleeting shred of a dream of performing something so sacred (to me) and special in front of crowds for a long time. It probably killed any desire I had for starting bands, at least. Another callus.

My problem always seems to be a lack of motivation and a painful lack of inspiration.

And being trapped in a cycle of realizing the same thing over and over with nary a flicker of gold.

The tips of my fingers have become harder and more resistant to a similar cycle. Only difference is this cycle helped with something, the other seems to make me complain more (not a good thing.)

Damn.

Kicking

About three years ago, I passed up an opportunity to do something memorable so that I could do something that, for the most part, is considered dull and uneventful: talk to my girlfriend (at the time). That's it. Just talk.

Looking back on it, I kick myself for being so stupid though at the time I thought it was a great gesture of how much I thought she meant to me.

She even told me I had made a mistake but I didn't think of it that way. I just wanted to talk to her.

Last night, that same opportunity presented itself and I seized it.

About three years ago, a theater was screening On Her Majesty's Secret Service and was having George Lazenby (James Bond himself) present for Q&A. Yes. I passed up an opportunity to meet James Bond just to talk to my girlfriend whom I was losing interest in rapidly.

Talk about stupid.

Last night, another theater was screening On Her Majesty's Secret Service and had George Lazenby there for Q&A.

I redeemed myself and no longer kick myself.

But there is a sense of dissatisfaction looming. While I did get to see the movie (one of the better ones), and see James Bond, I couldn't get an autograph or picture with him. They said he was going to stick around after the movie for pictures and autographs but it turned out that he didn't even stick around for the movie.

I can't pretend to know exactly what goes through his mind but I can imagine reasons as to why he wouldn't want to stick around.

That being said, I no longer kick myself for having missed an opportunity to do something memorable: see James Bond in person.

I'm not sad that I won't be seeing the Rolling Stones in concert this year because $600 for seats is ridiculous! Even nosebleed seats are ridiculous! $150!

I hope they're still around in another 10 years.

Noet

This is not a poem.
It does not rhyme.
it does not speak
to the soul
which by now has been sold
and rented,
or to the heart
by now broken
and fragmented,
or to the mind
presently twisted, deranged
and demented.

These are not words,
for they are mute,
and are incoherent.
What you are reading is rhythmless,
atonal noise.
A clanging
grinding
shrieking
silence of meaning.
Ruddy ruckus of zero substance.

No images can be summoned.
They are as barren as can be imagined
cracked, dry, deserts atop mountains of crumbling cliches
gray with death
gangrenous grief

You will not listen
I will not speak
you do not care
I admit no defeat
a bear breathes mountain air

100 little doves take flight
the river continues to run
the sun swallows the night


This is not a poem.
It does not rhyme.

This is not a poem,
It does not speak.

Stagnant

This place isn't the same place it used to be a few months or even a few weeks ago.

I've hit another creative wall. Everything seems to be at a standstill.

While I am confident that this will pass, I am distressed that it bothers me as much as it does. I know it's natural to hit walls but I still don't like it.

I'm confident that I will come across something that will make things click and I'll just unleash a torrent of prose or something creative.

I'm not banking on the Stones or NIN giving me the tools for that because the likelihood of getting tickets to see the Stones tends to be very slim. And I have a feeling NIN tickets will sell out quickly.

Better start saving.

So much to do, so little time.

Toque del insomnio

Muchas noches me encuentro despierto y desesperadamente mirando a mi reloj y la hora. Mientras veo esos numeros, pienso, "quiero dormir." Desafortunadamente, es más facil decir y pensarlo que es lograrlo.

No sé la razón por cual no puedo dormir pero sí sé que me choca no poder dormir antes de las cuatro de la mañana.

Quizas se debe a mis pensamientos que nunca paran. Aunque esto es muy ridiculo porque pienso de lo mismo todo el día. Es decir- merezco un descanso, ¿no?

Me torturan. Solo puedo pensar en problemas, casi nunca existe una solución para lo que pienso.

The Rolling Stones return!

Earlier today, I was at work when the television announces that the Rolling Stones are going on tour this year. I left my post and gawked at the television in awe. Then this little exchange occurred:

Me: The Stones are going on tour!? Oh yes!
Lady: What do you know about The Rolling Stones? They've been around since before you were born!
Me: Well, Beggars Banquet is probably my favorite album of theirs.
Lady: ... 

She gave a little nod and was impressed and then I checked the tour dates.

I hope they announce a LA date soon, or that I can at the very least get tickets for the Anaheim show.

Hot damn am I excited! This could be only chances to ever see one of my favorite bands live in concert ever. And since it's the Stones, you know. In other words, this could be the last time

I'll definitely be wearing one (or both) of my Stones shirts.

These news got me all mixed up and unable to form a coherent sentence. Stones!

Words cannot describe how giddy I am.

Coughed and Shook His Crumpled Wings

I spoke to someone about anger recently and it forced me to reflect on it on and off for about a week. I didn't like it because it made me remember how fucked up people can be when angry. Mostly the beatings I received as a child growing up, or being yelled at to the point of crying and wishing I was dead. And remembering how I would make other people cry and feel like shit. A vicious cycle that I would like to end.

I understand that anger can be necessary for great acting performances that earn you awards, or to get a point across but most of the time, when are we trying to win gold statues or have such intense arguments that we need to drown each other out in order to appear to be the winner of said argument?

I don't like being angry. It's a generally awful state of being that I prefer to avoid as much as possible simply because it's a waste of time, energy, and is destructive. It's more than I'm concerned about others than I am about myself at this point. It's not that I'll get so mad I'll start dragon kicking everybody in the room but that I'll say something that I'll later regret. When you say things you later regret, you tend to harm others in a potentially irreparable way: emotional and mental scars are a bitch to get past.

If I were to focus more on myself, I'd probably say things like:
Being angry forces me to shout and snarl at people which in turn causes me to wear out my voice, I love my voice.

I don't like being angry because when I start throwing punches, my knuckles are the ones that feel the pain. Plus I have to wipe other people's blood from them.

You know, needlessly narcissistic things. That ain't me. I don't play that. I never been about that!

Although I can definitely see the benefit of anger getting the blood flowing. And gets the creative machine up and running. See the Nine Inch Nails discography for examples.

Still, I digress.

Anger is destructive and fun but the sort of fun that'll land you in more hot water than you can handle: the one that'll burn you alive and leave you with some nasty scars if you survive.

Four Star Daydream

I checked my account the other day. I never had much to begin with but when I checked I was flabbergasted at how little I had left. I shrugged it off because there are more important things than money.

Recently, however, I had a very bizarre conversation that left me with a very strange feeling. One that can best be described as disgust, disappointment, and bitterness rolled into one.

I try not to place importance on money because it'll distract me and make me feel like shit, especially since I don't have much anyway. When others place an enormous amount of importance, it freaks me the hell out.

It freaks me out because it suggests skewed and mixed-up priorities. That they would place more value on an inanimate and intangible idea. Eh. I would prefer it if people weren't so hung up on money but that's the way we've been raised, isn't it? To strive for more. But where does one draw the line?

Surely, there must be a line that separates ambition from dangerous excess. But where is it? And how does one define it? Should it even be defined?

Maybe I just say these things because I'm broke.

Raft of Wrath

On a wave
A raft
shaken, rattled, rolled

In the raft
A little being
sore, hungry, tired

The sun above everything
did nothing but
warm, burn, observe

The little raft
The wave
The violence of the sun

The little being

Stared at the empty sky and wondered
Why?

To be marooned with and without hope
Far from the warmth
and the tenderness of home

Alone
Alive
Always wondering
Why?

Feeling anger brew within
Boiling, bubbling,
Drying bitter tears
bursting and bleeding

Snarling at the sky

Cursing the clouds

Weeping at the stars and moon

A little raft of wrath floats in an endless sea
tearing itself apart.
It is just one
of sadness, pain, and misery.

Small of patches of dirt now and again
fleeting bits of smiling beauty
'neath the scorching sky
praying for the rain

To come and save you.

No puedo dormir

Cuando no puedo dormir,
sueño
con ser algo diferente
algo más
de mi.
Sueño.

Muchas noches
me quedo despierto
desesperado
pensativo
equivocado.
Despierto.

No puedo dormir.
No existe descanso
solo una batalla eterna
que sigue y nunca para.

La lucha infinita
contra el ser y el tiempo.
Contra la mente y el cielo.

Las alas son para volar.

Alone (Edgar Allan Poe)

From childhood's hour I have not been
As others were; I have not seen
As others saw; I could not bring
My passions from a common spring.
From the same source I have not taken
My sorrow; I could not awaken
My heart to joy at the same tone;
And all I loved, I loved alone.
Then- in my childhood, in the dawn
Of a most stormy life- was drawn
From every depth of good and ill
The mystery which binds me still:
From the torrent, or the fountain,
From the red cliff of the mountain,
From the sun that round me rolled
In its autumn tint of gold,
From the lightning in the sky
As it passed me flying by,
From the thunder and the storm,
And the cloud that took the form
(When the rest of Heaven was blue)
Of a demon in my view.

- Edgar Allan Poe

Knuckles, Guts and Grace

What does fighting bring?

As many songs have taught us, war (which is fighting on a larger-scale though not necessarily an evolved form) is good for absolutely nothing. Huh! And this also seems to be the case with visual media. This was not always the case, something changed. I can't for the life of me figure out when it happened because violence has always been inherent in the system and the way we have done things.

However, I won't argue the merits and drawbacks of violence or warfare right now. I just came to write about fighting.

Fighting is inherent in our society. It's apparently embedded into our DNA and etched deeply into our souls. Fighting is the reason we have come this far. And what I mean by fighting is the unyielding nature of a human being. One could call it stubbornness and it wouldn't be an incorrect assessment. It all really just means that humans throughout history have always keep going forward even if the odds were against them and many times they have been (and this trend will not be broken any time soon).

Why? Because there's always something over the horizon. Always within our grasps but always elusive. But that doesn't stop us because somehow, it's known that though we will not be able to grab the sun within our hands, we will be able to claim what we find in our quest. Land, water, treasure, life, glory, peace.

These are the reasons we fight. To live.

We bleed because we have guts. We break our bones to secure something greater than ourselves for a cause we've deemed to be greater than ourselves as well. The same way a man breaks his back to provide for his family, or the same way you crack eggs to make omelets.

Through this rambling, I mean to point out and make clear that if you're having problems and seem to be down, you should fight. Forward. Use your knuckles, your guts, and all your grace. You owe it to yourself to keep going, you've already made it this far. You'd be a fool to stop and call it quits.

Vanishing Content

Remember how I said a long time ago that I might start taking certain images and posts down to avoid getting sued?

Well, not exactly those words but it's in the housekeeping post that gets updated from time to time. Here:

• If I delete posts- poetry, art, stories, etc. The main reason will be because it's not in public domain (and I don't want to get in trouble for it). If anything, I'll link to the site instead.

Sure, it's highly unlikely but just in case, I've been removing or editing certain content in an effort to not get sued or in trouble or anything like that.

Apologies.

Maturity

Every year is getting shorter. Hairs get grayer, backs get stiffer, bones get brittle. People get older. As they get older, they are expected to be more mature.

This seems like too difficult a task to ask of anyone, really. The reason being that not everyone's brains and minds are exactly the same, or even similar. Different sorts of experiences and backgrounds play a significant role in shaping how and when a person will mature.

Unfortunately, those who grasp that they must be mature, misunderstand what it means. They equate maturity with being boring, dull, and lacking life and joy and "spice."

Is that really how bad things have gotten? That growing up and maturing is equated with being boring? What about fruits and vegetables? They don't get boring, they get ripe (at which point, they're mature and ready for consumption). The same way humans get mature and are ready for the finer subtleties life has to offer. Or the hazards and pitfalls like money and responsibility: starting and having a family, maintaing said family, etc.

But these things do not mean one must become boring. One can still be an effective parent and have a sense of humor the same way one can fit into the trope of being a businessman and still eat cotton candy.

Moderation and maturity. Balance. Baturity?

There can be joy when the skies seem gray.

Scheduled Posts

They can be fun. I'm referring to the Blogger feature. Finish writing something a month ago and just wanna post it now? Click! They're a pain in the ass. I'm referring to the many posts I've yet to post, finish, or even write! Started writing something two years ago and only now getting around to it only to find that you've lost that train of thought? AGH! Joy.

Review: Pretty Hate Machine

Pretty Hate Machine

Nine Inch Nails

1989

I think it's pretty obvious what I'm going to do. And why. But just in case it isn't obvious, I'll spell it out. That and because I want to fill up space. To commemorate the return of Nine Inch Nails to touring and the personal anticipation of potentially seeing them live again, I'm going to review their discography. Or at the very least just the main albums. If I were to cover all the Halos and Seeds, and even bootlegs, it'd take me way longer than it'll take me to thoroughly listen to the main albums and then write a review. Not to mention that it'd get very repetitive and maybe even nitpicky. But for the sake of brevity and to keep things from getting stagnant, main albums. The first one being Pretty Hate Machine though my first exposure to Nine Inch Nails was through Johnny Cash. You know how. This was probably the same way it was for most people. But after that, my exposure to NIN came from riding in a car with a friend who was playing a CD mix featuring random tracks from various Nine Inch Nails albums, mostly from The Downward Spiral (which I'll write about later). I asked him who this was because "Hurt" sounded so familiar yet unknown but still mystifying. "It's Nine Inch Nails, dude!" he said, his voice marked with glee. That night he gave me their discography and this is where my review starts.

What can be said about Pretty Hate Machine that hasn't been said already by just about everyone at this point? As the first album by Nine Inch Nails, it is definitely a very strong start and indicator of things to come. Things that I (and fans) would come to know, appreciate, and even love. Visceral, fierce, aggressive, bold are just some of the words that begin to scratch the surface of what makes this album so great. Or what I find to be great. At the time of my first listen, I was instantly captivated by the first track ("Head Like a Hole") and found myself playing that song over and over before proceeding to the rest of the album. The same process went on for the entire album. I guess you could say I got obsessed with this album at some point. Still kind of am to this day because it hit me at point during which I was still growing up and developing and slowly being on my way to the person I will eventually be. Which is probably someone who is angry, or at the very least passionate about something.

The music of Pretty Hate Machine (and Nine Inch Nails in general) has become what many people knew/know/now know/associate/think of when the term industrial (music-wise, obviously) is used. Even though Reznor is less blatantly repetitive than other industrial acts of the time, he does manage to grab and keep your attention through catchy though bleak music more than just raw sounds. If that makes any sort of sense. The fact that the Nine Inch Nails sound has come to define (for some people) or at the very least lend a fresh/different perspective on a particular genre should be noted. It might not have changed the whole genre single-handedly but it definitely made a mark.

It should also be noted that the music and lyrics have this undercurrent of anger, among other things. The fact that there's a lot of anger in this album is one of the reasons I found it so captivating the first time I listened to it and again upon subsequent listens. The lyrics can reach parts of us that we thought didn't exist, were buried, or are at the surface. Angry anthems like the previously-mentioned "Head Like a Hole" and "Terrible Lie", the snarling balladry of "Something I Can Never Have" and "Sanctified", something seething and danceable like "Sin" and "Down in It" dripping with a synth sound that came to be a trademark of sorts for Reznor's body of work. All these things that stand out from other industrial albums of the time only help make this review stumble over itself as it tries to communicate just how good Pretty Hate Machine is.

Reznor single-handedly paints a masterpiece of anger so well and so eloquently through ruinous melodies, savage poetry, and raw emotion. So well in fact that this album can be played at almost any time, regardless of what time you are in your life: angsty 16 year old, 27 year old with a wife and child, 50 year old math teacher, etc. And what you're doing: growing up, winding down, fighting, thinking, chillin', dancing, fucking, or just writing a fawning review of an album that you really like.

10/10

VWD

Lately, I've been thinking about sabotage because every action seems to be an act of sabotage in some strange way. Whether it be a snide remark in passing that somehow manages to sour another person's mood for the day or something more blatant like pouring sugar in the gas tank.

And I wonder why it is that we seem to engage in acts of destruction against others. Willful or otherwise. Glaring or subtle. Is it a lack of control or just a subconscious desire to bring others down? But then, why bring others down? Do we need to bring others down in an effort to march towards equality? That isn't equality at work, just general asshole behavior.

Can we not improve upon ourselves rather than bring others down? And if we surpass them, can we not help them?

That's if your goal is equality of some sort but since sabotage seems to be almost second nature to many people, I'm betting that an egalitarian society will always be beyond our collective reach.

I know I've been a victim of some sort sabotage, just as many of you have been as well. I don't recall if it was ever justified but goddamn, did it hurt knowing what was going on. At first, anyway. After the initial phase, I probably just stopped caring or was distracted by something else. The latter is the more likely reason.

And in the same way, I've been the perpetrator as well. That I really don't actually understand because I've taught myself growing up that I should be honest and treat others the same way I would want to be treated. Seriously, I raised myself to have those beliefs but that's another story for another time. So for me to screw shit up for someone makes no sense and makes me think that perhaps sabotage is in our DNA and collective minds because being ill with the flu or a cold is an inconvenience that could morph into a liability which in turn prevents one from doing the things they must, or the things they enjoy. Yet, we still get sick. (I realize how misinformed this is but I was just trying to fill space.)

I don't like it but I know I've sabotaged others. And they me. It's a shame really because together, people can accomplish more than they would on their own. Especially if people are too busy willfully destroying each other's plans and goals and such.

As Raul Julia (playing Bison) said in Street Fighter:

For you, the day Bison graced your village was the most important day of your life. But for me, it was Tuesday.

and (more relevantly):

Had you worked together instead of against each other, you might have been successful.

A-muse-ment

Inspiration rarely is here. When it is, it's in rapid bursts. Sporadic. I need a muse. I need to write something creative. Can't just rant all the time. Gotta do something substantial. Do I need a muse? I need a constant source of inspiration. No, I just need to be inspired constantly from various sources. The more the merrier. Or maybe enough to avoid over-saturation and being overwhelmed and floored. Or do I want to be floored? I want a muse? I want to be inspired? This isn't funny, this cry for a single source of inspiration. does this bring amusement? A muse meant a lot. Still does. Still does? Means? Inspiration does what it wants. A muse appears to be fickle. Fuck.

The Chill

When I was younger (before I could buy booze or smokes without being hassled by The Man), I did some pretty stupid things. Frequently. These stupid things sometimes caught the attention of people around me, sometimes strangers and older people. And to be even more specific, the attention of an older black woman who gave me a rather cryptic but very wise bit of advice with just one sentence:

When the thrill is gone, the chill is on.

I recognized the first part from a BB King song. You know the one. But the rest seemed like pure poetry. And magic.

It seemed like poetry and magic because it took me a while to figure out what she might have meant but when I thought I did, it seemed to apply to everything I could think of. From what I can remember, she said the phrase in the same way one would deliver a cautionary tale in reference to drug and general substance abuse. It's kind of an odd thing to infer about a 16 year old but not that odd given the fact that it's the 21st century. Not exactly a century known for being prudish and entirely restrained.

Still, the phrase carries a greater meaning than simply just being a very crafty way of saying "don't do drugs" or "don't poison your body." It serves as a cautionary tale that everything will wither and die or, at the very least falter, stumble, and possibly crash at some point.

Whether this means the end is a completely different matter altogether because unless you're living in the ice age, the chill isn't deadly. And if you are living in the ice age, I would love to know how it is you're accessing the internet and communicating with / receiving information from the 21st century.

The chill could just be painful (or just unpleasant) but not necessarily the end of whatever it is the thrill was a part of.

But that's the beauty of the phrase. It fucks with your head. I know it did a number on my head at first and when I thought about it afterwards. Trying to find the answer to what it could mean consumed my thoughts and attention. And if I may be honest, the exact meaning will forever elude me as I can only take guesses and draw a different meaning each time I revisit this phrase.

Thinking about the seasons is a good examples. The thrill is spring and summer. When they end, autumn and winter set in. The chill.

Or maybe she just came up with something on the spot to fuck with my head in order to get me thinking and maybe make better life choices.

I think it worked.

NIN is back!

In case you haven't heard, Nine Inch Nails will start touring again this year.

I am very excited for this and am preparing my wallet for the serious beating it'll undoubtedly take when it comes time to obtain tickets when the dates are announced. Well, a bigger beating than it normally takes. The beatings are frequent with bills and food. You know: the necessities. I've often joked about how if Trent Reznor decided to bring Nine Inch Nails back for touring, I'd spend the rent money on tickets instead of the bills and you know, the rent. "Sorry, chief, it's Nine Inch Nails!"

What was once a joke is probably going to become a reality. I just hope that it doesn't actually mean I can't pay the rent. That would really suck. But yes, the reason I'm excited for this is probably the same reason as to why I was so excited for the release of Skyfall last year.

Absence.

For a quick tangent and context, prior to "Skyfall" in 2012, the last James Bond movie released was "Quantum of Solace" in 2008. 4 years without a James Bond movie was a little odd but not entirely out of the realm of impossibility: the four year gap between "Die Another Day" and "Casino Royale" and of course, the five year gap between "Licence to Kill" and "GoldenEye". For a fan, these absences and gaps without new material are painful, to speak metaphorically.

The first time I saw Nine Inch Nails play live was in 2008, which was also the first time I ever went to a concert. I had been a big fan of the music up until then and was over the moon when a friend asked if I wanted to go. I immediately said yes and scrambled to gather money for my ticket.

To think back on those days when I couldn't grow a proper mustache or beard and was skinnier brings back fond memories of anticipation, faster heartbeats, and the aftermath of bruised palms and a lost voice. I cheered and shouted so loud I lost my voice that night. I also clapped so goddamn hard my palms were bruised. But it was so much much walking away wearing another NIN shirt on top of the one I was already wearing: a gray Year Zero shirt.

Now, for the absence. Trent Reznor obviously continued to work and be active and while his work in these 4 years was impressive (The Social Network, The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo), it wasn't enough to fill the hole that was left. Yeah, he's under no obligation to make music for anyone but fans will always clamor for more and mourn the lack of work. Probably because they've come to really appreciate the music or art, or in some cases have made some sort of connection with the music and somehow deduce that that connection has been severed when there is no new material. This doesn't make sense because you can always revisit and listen to the previous albums!

But now that NIN will resume touring and maybe new albums? One can always hope.

To think that I might see them again this year makes me grin like I haven't in quite a while.

I'll definitely be wearing at least one of my NIN shirts.

Shut yer gob

If there's one thing I can't stand, it's people who complain. Don't get me wrong; I complain, too, but I rarely do it. If/when I do complain, it's justified. So, I should be clearer about what I mean.

Ahem.

If there's one thing I can't stand, it's people who complain incessantly and/or for no good reason, and don't really do anything about what they are complaining even though it is well within their power/abilities.

I realize that this already sounds like a complaint, which it probably is but for the time being, you're stuck reading what I have to write. And morbid curiosity keeps you here. And your desire to read whatever nonsense I can think of. Oh and you probably have nothing else to do at the moment so you might as well kill a few minutes until you do find something more productive to do.

But back to the topic of people bitching and not lifting a finger to change their predicament...

Some people complain for the dumbest most trivial things. You're on the internet, so you already have a good idea of what I'm talking about. I should comment, however, that when they complain about, you want to be violent and aggressive about the way they complain and what they complain about. You can also find proof fairly quickly (read: I don't have to provide any link to any particular website detailing what I'm talking about.) Even though this is vague, I'm sure you know what I mean.

There is one statement (and its variations) I always have handy whenever someone around me complains. Around me being someone I already know fairly well. And that is: if you're living in the United States (or any "first world"/"developed" country) you really have no reason to complain about anything.

I tend to expound this to people is because they are healthy, capable, and have access to resources that people would kill or generally risk their lives to get.

If you can, you should. If you can but don't, I don't like you. If you can but don't AND complain, I probably hate you.

This is another reason I don't like complaining: it derails the train of thought.

In the Hall

I took it upon myself
for no reason
to journey to a land
of sand and trees and elves
and water and clouds
and other assorted stuff
from which dreams are made

Before I could,
I embarked on another journey
to see the king,
the knights,
the swords,
the blood stained smiles
and thorns.

They did not interest me.
Crumbling façade of long-gone ingenuity
of vanished days that sink into foggy memories
Drowned by time
and dust.

They did not interest me.

Not as much as her.

The queen.

Her jeweled majesty-
a display of splendor,
drew me in.

Brightly adorned,
she sat upon her throne and-
with every color shown,
called me closer

To something.
An end.
Oh, I don't know.

To think, to feel her thoughts
echo inside my head and
carve into my mind
an image

of something brutal and divine

That which is oft ignored
abused
and cast aside

Misused
mistreated
left bleeding

This poem is no longer worth reading.

Often Go Astray

The reason my motto (or one of the many mottos I live by) is "wing it" is because when I make plans, something tends to happen that derails said plans. This is unfortunate but it happens. The same idea of plans not coming to fruition can apply to just about everyone. What bothers me the most is not always the fact that the plans have been changed or derailed but that I am often powerless in changing the course of the derailing.

This is unfortunate but it happens. The best thing one can do is just march on. Kind of sad having to do so especially if one's plans were very elaborate and passionate (read: poured a lot of yourself into them).

This isn't to say that one shouldn't look forward to the future because you should. The future is often changing and it always brings new opportunities for things. New experiences, new challenges, new ideas, a never-ending supply of newness.

This isn't to say that one shouldn't do things passionately. No! You should always try to be fiercely passionate about your plans and goals and ideas and pursuits.

Often one just has to trust or believe that things will turn out as expected (or for the best) though this is not always be the case, or appear that way. It is difficult to do so but then again difficult things often yield the best rewards, right?

Hmm. I don't really know what else to write. I often say wing it because it's worked out pretty well for me but you aren't me, are you? What works for me might not work for you and vice versa. All I can really say to anyone whose plans don't work out, or whose plans take a very different turn is to keep going. I find that this approach works very well. Especially because it's one that has been handed down to me several times and it's something I would pass on to others.

Hmm.

You won't always be powerless.

Review: Genki Shock!

Genki Shock!
Shonen Knife
2006

In December of 2006, a friend and I strolled into a local Tower Records, which was going out of business. For those who may not remember, Tower Records was a very popular music store that went bankrupt that same year. Like many businesses that are folding/closing/ending/etc, they were having a "going out of business" sale in which all their merchandise: books, music, DVDs, posters, etc was being sold at ridiculous prices. The good kind of ridiculous, of course; by which I really mean: "the kind in which consumers win."

I sifted through bins and boxes for CDs and anything else I could get for super cheap. I couldn't find much except for a Sonic Youth single which I ended up giving to someone as a gift. I was about to grab a Streets CD but my friend had seen it first and claimed it for himself. As a consolation, he handed me Genki Shock! My first reaction was, "Dude, what the fuck?" because it was pink. He calmly responded, "Trust me, you'll like them." And this is where the review starts.

This was my first exposure to Shonen Knife, later reading that they'd been around for a while. My initial reaction was obviously of bewilderment. Surely, a pink album cover (the cover is only pink in the US; in the Japanese release, the cover is yellow) could only be indicative of girly music, right? What the hell had my friend easily convinced me to get? Not like I could really complain since I only paid about 2 bucks for it.

I was flabbergasted at how much I enjoyed the album because it defied every expectation I had. Granted, those expectations were ridiculous and had no substance but the more legitimate (though still stupid) expectations regarding the music itself were more: "this music will probably be very cutesy and more appropriate on a children's television program." Or very low.

The album itself is a collection of stuff that I would call a mix of various guitar-driven genres like pop, punk, hard rock, and faint echoes of metal (particularly that gnarly solo on "The Queen of Darkness") and jazz ("Broccoli Man") simply because of the lyrical content and delivery. Pop: Not necessarily saccharine-sweet stuff but nothing that (for example) Black Flag would sing about like giant kitties and glasses ("Giant Kitty" and "My Magic Glasses", respectively).

From the first track, the aptly-named "Introduction" which serves as a preview for a later track ("Giant Kitty"), I was intrigued and amused at how it lulls you into a false sense of security with the track being presented as if it was coming from a distant boombox as it explodes into "S*P*A*M" which is probably what grabbed me and never let me go since I first heard the album. The rest of the songs that followed maintained a similar energy though it did lull you into another false sense of security (or at the very least led you in one direction and then POW!) in which- "WHOA! This solo on 'The Queen of Darkness' is pretty sweet!"

Yes, it's like that. Not to say that the songs in between are filler but they don't grab you with the same cutesy shiny gleeful ferocity as the first few tracks and the closing track. So, don't dismiss "Broccoli Man" as run of the mill pseudo-jazz or anything of the sort. The guitar work is what stands out for me especially when the distorted guitars aren't strumming away but when you get to stuff like "Rock Society" and "Under my Pillow" which serve as perfect showcases for how varied their guitar playing abilities are. Very talented dames these dames.

My only beef would have to be with the obvious fact that Naoko Yamano singing in English is something you just have to get used to. It's not atrocious but it's not that easy getting used to it either but fuck it, the music's good. My only other beef is the fact that their guitar work left a deep chip in my shoulder that I haven't been able to heal. Well, that's not such a bad thing because it just motivated me to at the very least learn my scales.

8/10