Sometimes, without warning, at weird hours of the night, I become really Greek. I’m actually Greek-Ukrainian, but my ethnicities show themselves in completely different situations, and never at the same time (put me in the Catskill Mountains on a summer day, for instance, and I’ll be as Varangian as you please). Tonight, though - as on all nights when I’m up late and love is on my mind - my head rushed back to my family’s tiny village in southern Laconia:
Anyone who’s spoken to me about music for longer than five minutes has no doubt heard me sing the praises of the Protomen. I’ve had more than a few friends shake their heads at me for my taste in music - namely, my unwavering belief in rock and roll. Not alternative, or industrial, or nu metal, or whatever silly new genres the recording industry keeps inventing to foist new depths of mediocrity upon an unsuspecting populace held captive by the sickly dead thump of two-finger power chords. Rock and fucking roll.
Rock and roll is a living thing to me. It takes many forms - from The Who to Blue Oyster Cult to Wishbone Ash to Queen - but it is alive and powerful. Rock and roll is the sound of a soul that cannot be stopped. It is the sound of a life worth fighting for, tooth and nail. It is the sound of fire.
And the ten members of the Protomen carry that torch as though they had lit it themselves.
Keeping this short, as I have an exam tomorrow and there’s a little catching up to do. There’s a good reason for this time crunch, though: inspiration has kept me awake. My friends and I have been brainstorming on an idea so cool that I don’t want to talk about it yet, but you’ll know it when you see it.
I’m also deeply in love with a woman who lives five hours in the future, and these days I find it extremely difficult to get to bed on time rather than just waiting for her to wake up so I can effusively express my undying loyalty before passing out from exhaustion. Let’s just say I now understand why love was considered a kind of madness during the dark ages.
Another speed-writing exercise. Challenge Modifiers: No Similes or Metaphors, One Independent Clause Per Sentence.
House of the Unfamiliar (3:21)
Guitar instead of writing today. I’ve begun thinking of my recordings less as songs and more as sound textures. It’s all improvised, and the rhythm is pretty sloppy in places. More atmosphere than music, I guess. That may change, but this is a pretty sweet little niche.
CCDGAD tuning, using a slap technique that I’ve only just picked up. Experimentation is fun!
Trying my hand at speed-writing story fragments from single images by concept artists. Going to start with a piece from my “Pretty Pictures” post. Challenge Modifiers: No Adverbs, Maximum One Adjective Per Noun.
I just finished Alan Wake this morning. Unlike what you’d expect, I am neither shaking with fear nor pumping my fists in victory. Instead there’s a lump in my throat, and my mind is vibrating with a creative intensity that I haven’t allowed myself to feel in a long time. I feel like I’ve been hit by a train. Like someone reached into my head to show me a place that I’d forgotten I’d loved. That metaphorical darkness, you see, is an old friend of mine.
I’ve played a lot of Alan Wake and Red Dead Redemption this week, and I’ve had plenty of opportunities to watch others play them too. The contrast between my play style and those of others has made me realize that there’s a way to play videogames that might be new, or maybe it isn’t - all I know is that I’ve never seen anyone outside the Squadron of Shame doing it. And the rest of you might be missing out!
Like war, it was inevitable. Like a virus, it was silent and omnipresent. Like hate, it burned and crippled every mind it touched. And like soured love, it gave little warning. It began in the pristine innocence of doubt. Gathering fear as a wheel gathers mud, it became anxiety, then angst, then silent shrieking horror. It resided not in one person, but in the whole of their kind. It was a darkness that came disguised as light, because there was none left to dispel it.
I’ve always been fascinated by Australia and New Zealand. Ever since I was a child, when I watched Dot and the Bunny religiously, the wilderness of the southern hemisphere captivated me. When The Lord of the Rings came out in 2001, I remember suddenly feeling defensive about New Zealand, because I’d wanted to go there before it was cool. I never knew when the day would come, but I knew I’d get there eventually. And now I know it’ll happen next year.
