Still house-bound...but I'm getting a lot of work done!
Okay and Attach Another...I wish my life were like my email...I could just forget about things, about people, be 'Okay'...and then 'Attach Another' experience, or person, to my life...
Tuesday, November 28, 2006
Monday, November 27, 2006
Snowed in...
...so finishing homework...but I keep getting distracted...so I'm here again, like the internerd I am these days...
...I came across an interesting quote, and wanted to share with all of my...ahem...reader...
"The death penalty is a warning, just like a lighthouse throwing its beams out to sea. We hear about shipwrecks, but we do not hear about the ships the lighthouse guides safely on their way. We do not have proof of the number of ships it saves, but we do not tear the lighthouse down."
Hyman Barshay
...I came across an interesting quote, and wanted to share with all of my...ahem...reader...
"The death penalty is a warning, just like a lighthouse throwing its beams out to sea. We hear about shipwrecks, but we do not hear about the ships the lighthouse guides safely on their way. We do not have proof of the number of ships it saves, but we do not tear the lighthouse down."
Hyman Barshay
In Autumn to Winter
In Autumn to Winter
Trapped in the cellar of Autumn
I brood
As the vermin amongst
me breed
I glare towards the sound of an infernal buzzing
a desperate fly
caught in a cobweb
His struggle in vain
just as his death is
For the spider that once resided in that web
hung himself
with his own thread
So is the quality of life in this cellar
that pests should even be as depressed
to weave their own death
Now the shadows encroach upon the hills
beneath the menacing force
that you so desperately tried to quell
Living within these cells of sin
breathing toxic air through cracks
whose vapours leak into your very essence
poisoning to the core...and beyond
Winter has set in on your life
Bare branches match the feelings you bear
Snow now covers
thoughts and a love
with which you never could compare
I usually love the snow...
...but it is just not the same right now...I even use an umbrella to further suppress my feelings...
...and if time does whisper that I'll be whole again...
...then I will embrace all Winter and its wieldings.
THE GARDEN OF LOVE
William Blake
I laid me down upon a bank,
Where Love lay sleeping;
I heard among the rushes dank
Weeping, weeping.
Then I went to the heath and the wild,
To the thistles and thorns of the waste;
And they told me how they were beguiled,
Driven out, and compelled to the chaste.
I went to the Garden of Love,
And saw what I never had seen;
A Chapel was built in the midst,
Where I used to play on the green.
And the gates of this Chapel were shut,
And 'Thou shalt not' writ over the door;
So I turned to the Garden of Love
That so many sweet flowers bore.
And I saw it was filled with graves,
And tombstones where flowers should be;
And priests in black gowns were walking their rounds,
And binding with briars my joys and desires.
...and if time does whisper that I'll be whole again...
...then I will embrace all Winter and its wieldings.
THE GARDEN OF LOVE
William Blake
I laid me down upon a bank,
Where Love lay sleeping;
I heard among the rushes dank
Weeping, weeping.
Then I went to the heath and the wild,
To the thistles and thorns of the waste;
And they told me how they were beguiled,
Driven out, and compelled to the chaste.
I went to the Garden of Love,
And saw what I never had seen;
A Chapel was built in the midst,
Where I used to play on the green.
And the gates of this Chapel were shut,
And 'Thou shalt not' writ over the door;
So I turned to the Garden of Love
That so many sweet flowers bore.
And I saw it was filled with graves,
And tombstones where flowers should be;
And priests in black gowns were walking their rounds,
And binding with briars my joys and desires.
Wednesday, November 22, 2006
A Take on Religion
After coming into contact with a religious man I always feel I must wash my hands.
Friedrich Nietzsche
The only thing that stops God from sending another flood is that the first one was useless.
Nicolas de Chamfort
....
I think that religions are a way of crime prevention. Followers are led to believe that wrongdoers will be judged and punished on some celestial plain, therefore eliminating any need for earthly vengeance.
Tuesday, November 21, 2006
Another favorite...
How Did You Die?
by Edmund Vance Cooke
Did you tackle that trouble that came your way
With a resolute heart and cheerful?
Or hide your face from the light of day
With a craven soul and fearful?
Oh, a trouble's a ton, or a trouble's an ounce,
Or a trouble is what you make it.
And it isn't the fact that you're hurt that counts,
But only how did you take it?
You are beaten to earth? Well, well, what's that?
Come up with a smiling face.
It's nothing against you to fall down flat,
But to lie there-that's a disgrace.
The harder you're thrown, why the higher you bounce;
Be proud of your blackened eye!
It isn't the fact that you're licked that counts;
It's how did you fight and why?
And though you be done to death, what then?
If you battled the best you could;
If you played your part in the world of men,
Why, the Critic will call it good.
Death comes with a crawl, or comes with a pounce,
And whether he's slow or spry,
It isn't the fact that you're dead that counts,
But only, how did you die?
by Edmund Vance Cooke
Did you tackle that trouble that came your way
With a resolute heart and cheerful?
Or hide your face from the light of day
With a craven soul and fearful?
Oh, a trouble's a ton, or a trouble's an ounce,
Or a trouble is what you make it.
And it isn't the fact that you're hurt that counts,
But only how did you take it?
You are beaten to earth? Well, well, what's that?
Come up with a smiling face.
It's nothing against you to fall down flat,
But to lie there-that's a disgrace.
The harder you're thrown, why the higher you bounce;
Be proud of your blackened eye!
It isn't the fact that you're licked that counts;
It's how did you fight and why?
And though you be done to death, what then?
If you battled the best you could;
If you played your part in the world of men,
Why, the Critic will call it good.
Death comes with a crawl, or comes with a pounce,
And whether he's slow or spry,
It isn't the fact that you're dead that counts,
But only, how did you die?
Sunday, November 19, 2006
Lame Day
Not especially happy today, if you want to get personal...
...Looking at other folks' blogs, it seems they always have 'tests' and crap on them...
http://www.drawthings.com/save.php?id=225870
That as my lame thing for the lame day...
...Looking at other folks' blogs, it seems they always have 'tests' and crap on them...
http://www.drawthings.com/save.php?id=225870
That as my lame thing for the lame day...
Friday, November 17, 2006
Into Infinite Obscurity 2
(They thought I was a real photographer at the show, and they let up front to take pictures with my sub-par camera...)
Into Infinite Obscurity
The following was something I wrote in September for the OP:
After a tiring eight-hour flight, I began to feel re-energized as I could distinguish the approaching runway from miles above. I had survived the trip, and was on my way to meeting my favorite vocalist of all time. A friend of mine had set up an interview with Jon Nödtveidt, the front man of the melodic black/death metal band ‘Dissection’, and I was along for the ride.
Dissection emerged from Sweden in the early ‘90’s, and released an album that would soon become an instant classic in the eyes of many metal fans. ‘The Somberlain’ had a title track whose epic harmonies would ring within you, and somber folk interludes that would have you envisioning snow on even the hottest of days. Two years later, the next album ‘Storm of the Light’s Bane’ was released, and again it met raving reviews. It was around this time, however, that Jon was convicted of being an accessory to murder, and that he was sentenced to jail.
With fans waiting patiently, Jon was released in early 2004, and it was December of that year when I flew to London to meet him. It never crossed my mind that I might be meeting a killer, but only that I would finally be face to face with a man whose music, (not necessarily his ideals), I had admired for years.
I sat next to Jon during the interview, who came across as a well-spoken and very intelligent man. He was extremely focused, and spoke passionately about his music and beliefs. We were witnessing the ‘rebirth of Dissection’, and nothing was going to stand in this man’s way to finishing his new album and rebuilding the bands legacy. (I remained silent during most of the interview, and only replied with a blush after he complemented me.)
The concert that followed was an extreme assault of the songs that have reigned many a metal lover’s stereo for the past ten years. The incredible strength of the music was audible proof that Jon had emerged from his jail cell a greater musician than ever, and the future looked glorious for the newly rekindled band. Jon stood onstage after the show was over, and I had a chance to thank him for the pre-gig meeting and for the awesome performance the band had exuded. I left that venue a very satisfied girl.
A little over a month ago, while surfing the web, I happened upon the Dissection website. The heading on the main page read ‘Official Statement about Jon’s Death’, and I discovered that Jon shot himself, his body discovered on August 16th, 2006. Initially shocked, I began to recall that Jon had mentioned killing himself before, and realized it was something that he had been planning for a long time. Speculation immediately swirled around the suicide, with rumours of ‘Satanic’ bibles, and theories involving his possible motives. Some laughed, suggesting it was a result of the reviews from his third, and final, album, ‘Reinkaos’. (The last album released by ‘Dissection’ was widely anticipated, but when hopes are held that high, there are bound to those who will be disappointed.) Whatever it was, whether it was his intense belief in his religion of anti-cosmos based Satanism or simply that his raging river of creativity had run dry, was not important.
Jon Nödtveidt was a man with a very ‘evil’ reputation. But why would a man with such supposedly deep misanthropic views choose to sit down for an interview, and then sign autographs and shake hands with fans after his concert? Can someone truly be ‘evil’ if they inspire joy in others? It will be Jon’s music, and not his lifestyle, that will continue to inspire other musicians and myself for many years to come…well, his first two albums, anyways.
Jon Nödtveidt: Into Infinite Obscurity
After a tiring eight-hour flight, I began to feel re-energized as I could distinguish the approaching runway from miles above. I had survived the trip, and was on my way to meeting my favorite vocalist of all time. A friend of mine had set up an interview with Jon Nödtveidt, the front man of the melodic black/death metal band ‘Dissection’, and I was along for the ride.
Dissection emerged from Sweden in the early ‘90’s, and released an album that would soon become an instant classic in the eyes of many metal fans. ‘The Somberlain’ had a title track whose epic harmonies would ring within you, and somber folk interludes that would have you envisioning snow on even the hottest of days. Two years later, the next album ‘Storm of the Light’s Bane’ was released, and again it met raving reviews. It was around this time, however, that Jon was convicted of being an accessory to murder, and that he was sentenced to jail.
With fans waiting patiently, Jon was released in early 2004, and it was December of that year when I flew to London to meet him. It never crossed my mind that I might be meeting a killer, but only that I would finally be face to face with a man whose music, (not necessarily his ideals), I had admired for years.
I sat next to Jon during the interview, who came across as a well-spoken and very intelligent man. He was extremely focused, and spoke passionately about his music and beliefs. We were witnessing the ‘rebirth of Dissection’, and nothing was going to stand in this man’s way to finishing his new album and rebuilding the bands legacy. (I remained silent during most of the interview, and only replied with a blush after he complemented me.)
The concert that followed was an extreme assault of the songs that have reigned many a metal lover’s stereo for the past ten years. The incredible strength of the music was audible proof that Jon had emerged from his jail cell a greater musician than ever, and the future looked glorious for the newly rekindled band. Jon stood onstage after the show was over, and I had a chance to thank him for the pre-gig meeting and for the awesome performance the band had exuded. I left that venue a very satisfied girl.
A little over a month ago, while surfing the web, I happened upon the Dissection website. The heading on the main page read ‘Official Statement about Jon’s Death’, and I discovered that Jon shot himself, his body discovered on August 16th, 2006. Initially shocked, I began to recall that Jon had mentioned killing himself before, and realized it was something that he had been planning for a long time. Speculation immediately swirled around the suicide, with rumours of ‘Satanic’ bibles, and theories involving his possible motives. Some laughed, suggesting it was a result of the reviews from his third, and final, album, ‘Reinkaos’. (The last album released by ‘Dissection’ was widely anticipated, but when hopes are held that high, there are bound to those who will be disappointed.) Whatever it was, whether it was his intense belief in his religion of anti-cosmos based Satanism or simply that his raging river of creativity had run dry, was not important.
Jon Nödtveidt was a man with a very ‘evil’ reputation. But why would a man with such supposedly deep misanthropic views choose to sit down for an interview, and then sign autographs and shake hands with fans after his concert? Can someone truly be ‘evil’ if they inspire joy in others? It will be Jon’s music, and not his lifestyle, that will continue to inspire other musicians and myself for many years to come…well, his first two albums, anyways.
Thursday, November 16, 2006
Insomnia
I seem to be gripped in the clutch of an insomniac bout, so here is another of my favorite pieces...I believe it is somewhat of an ode to Petrarch...?
A Vision Upon the Fairy Queen
By : Sir Walter Raleigh (ca. 1552–1618)
Methought I saw the grave where Laura lay,
Within that temple where the vestal flame
Was wont to burn; and, passing by that way,
To see that buried dust of living fame,
Whose tomb fair Love, and fairer Virtue kept:
All suddenly I saw the Fairy Queen;
At whose approach the soul of Petrarch wept,
And, from thenceforth, those Graces were not seen:
For they this queen attended;
in whose stead Oblivion laid him down on Laura’s hearse:
Hereat the hardest stones were seen to bleed,
And groans of buried ghosts the heavens did pierce:
Where Homer’s spright did tremble all for grief,
And cursed the access of that celestial thief!
A Vision Upon the Fairy Queen
By : Sir Walter Raleigh (ca. 1552–1618)
Methought I saw the grave where Laura lay,
Within that temple where the vestal flame
Was wont to burn; and, passing by that way,
To see that buried dust of living fame,
Whose tomb fair Love, and fairer Virtue kept:
All suddenly I saw the Fairy Queen;
At whose approach the soul of Petrarch wept,
And, from thenceforth, those Graces were not seen:
For they this queen attended;
in whose stead Oblivion laid him down on Laura’s hearse:
Hereat the hardest stones were seen to bleed,
And groans of buried ghosts the heavens did pierce:
Where Homer’s spright did tremble all for grief,
And cursed the access of that celestial thief!
Monday, November 13, 2006
Album update...
CONQUER BY SUPREMACY's first album is officially in the mix and on its way to life...
Excerpt from the song:
ODE TO GLORY WINTER
Awaken the thunder within me
and I will bribe your lightning to strike
Sing my hatred to slumber
I will engulf your love this night
The earth's pulse quickens
at the scheduled planetary alignment
Just like them, we were there
When Mars and Venus collided
Showering now upon the land
a confusion of affection and war
Driving us together, and pushing us apart
Regardless, we still want more...we'll want more!
....................................
Excerpt from the song:
ODE TO GLORY WINTER
Awaken the thunder within me
and I will bribe your lightning to strike
Sing my hatred to slumber
I will engulf your love this night
The earth's pulse quickens
at the scheduled planetary alignment
Just like them, we were there
When Mars and Venus collided
Showering now upon the land
a confusion of affection and war
Driving us together, and pushing us apart
Regardless, we still want more...we'll want more!
....................................
Alertly Tired
I am too tired to continue with work, yet I am too awake to retire...I've done a lot of work this weekend...
...here be one of my favorite poems to commemorate the occasion...
Messengers Falling to Our Aid
By Betsy Sholl
Sometimes everything dazzles--broken glass
on the river bank, rain dimpling the sand.
But aren't there days you'd gladly slip like a dime
through the silver slats of the boardwalk
and dissolve in the pastel froth the tide swirls?
That's why, when noonlight suddenly obliterates
the surface of every leaf, we need a voice to linger
in our minds, whispering let go, or go on,
need lip-shaped window smudges where
something
invisible has kissed us. Wind turning our clothes
inside out, coffee making a stranger's breath
familiar--
clearly, not all messengers pour out vials
of destruction or braid glass chips into a saint's
leather belt. Some must be sent to teeter
on the edge of a smoke-filled room, watching
color spatter as the wheel revolves and light
plucks the fine grooves of a guitar's steel strings.
Were they supposed to tell us something?
It's all mixed up now with the singer's breath
deep in the mike, her lowered head,
hair falling over a half-whispered rasp,
collapse of ice cubes in an untouched glass,
a match scrape's millisecond of nothing,
and then--the blue birth of flame.
Friday, November 10, 2006
Weird now, but made sense then...
Hard Headed Woman
By Cat Stevens
I'm looking for a hard headed woman,
One who will take me for myself,
And if I find my hard headed woman,
I won't need nobody else, no, no, no.
I'm looking for a hard headed woman,
One who will make me do my best,
And if I find my hard headed woman
I know the rest of my life will be blessed -- yes, yes, yes.
I know a lot of fancy dancers,
people who can glide you on a floor,
They move so smooth but have no answers.
When you ask "Why'd you come here for?" "I don't know" "Why?"
I know many fine feathered friends
but their friendliness depends on how you do.
They know many sure fired ways to find out the one who pays and how you do.
I'm looking for a hard headed woman,
One who will make me feel so good,
And if I find my hard headed woman,
I know my life will be as it should -- yes, yes, yes.
I'm looking for a hard headed woman,
One who will make me do my best,
And if I find my hard headed woman...
By Cat Stevens
I'm looking for a hard headed woman,
One who will take me for myself,
And if I find my hard headed woman,
I won't need nobody else, no, no, no.
I'm looking for a hard headed woman,
One who will make me do my best,
And if I find my hard headed woman
I know the rest of my life will be blessed -- yes, yes, yes.
I know a lot of fancy dancers,
people who can glide you on a floor,
They move so smooth but have no answers.
When you ask "Why'd you come here for?" "I don't know" "Why?"
I know many fine feathered friends
but their friendliness depends on how you do.
They know many sure fired ways to find out the one who pays and how you do.
I'm looking for a hard headed woman,
One who will make me feel so good,
And if I find my hard headed woman,
I know my life will be as it should -- yes, yes, yes.
I'm looking for a hard headed woman,
One who will make me do my best,
And if I find my hard headed woman...
In the OP this week
A silly opinion piece by me that was published in The Other Press this week:
Pull the Plug
I find that the more time I spend at Douglas College, the more my resentment grows towards fluorescent light tubes. Glaring down from their parallel fixtures, they force harsh artificial light onto the students below. These lights are ruthless and unflattering, and like rows of soldiers with an ominous purpose they crush the attempts of personal beauty the occupants of their room have tried to conjure. Highlighting imperfections the students thought that they had hidden, the fluorescent tubes of terror prove that resistance is futile against such a secretly malignant, yet inescapable, force.
Perhaps it would not be so bad if the lights in one classroom were consistent. But instead, in any chosen room staff and students will find that different tubes emit a different shade of sickness. Take room 3343 in New West for example. A brighter, more yellow sheen is produced on the left side of the room, which gives any unsuspecting student a lovely aura of jaundice. Yet, on the right, a pinker hue awaits its victims, and with it the false appearance of facial rosacea.
With all this built up resentment towards this specific light source, one may think that I would wish them all an untimely end. However, considering that the lights are all shielded by a protective layer, (no doubt to save them from folk like me), the only other way to defeat them would be to wait until they burn out on their own. But that too poses no resolution, as fluorescent light tubes do not die without a fight. You will never see a tube succumb to old age peacefully, and they will flicker with protest for weeks and months. Not satisfied after a life of harshening features and offering eye-sore induced headaches, the incessant random strobe light effect of an expiring fluorescent will try to take the unfortunate people below with it by annoying them to suicide. Sadly, the fluorescent tube is here to stay, our indoor, electrical society ensuring its survival. And as our dependence on artificially manufactured elements shines brighter, it brings to mind how we will never have a lighting chance against them.
Pull the Plug
I find that the more time I spend at Douglas College, the more my resentment grows towards fluorescent light tubes. Glaring down from their parallel fixtures, they force harsh artificial light onto the students below. These lights are ruthless and unflattering, and like rows of soldiers with an ominous purpose they crush the attempts of personal beauty the occupants of their room have tried to conjure. Highlighting imperfections the students thought that they had hidden, the fluorescent tubes of terror prove that resistance is futile against such a secretly malignant, yet inescapable, force.
Perhaps it would not be so bad if the lights in one classroom were consistent. But instead, in any chosen room staff and students will find that different tubes emit a different shade of sickness. Take room 3343 in New West for example. A brighter, more yellow sheen is produced on the left side of the room, which gives any unsuspecting student a lovely aura of jaundice. Yet, on the right, a pinker hue awaits its victims, and with it the false appearance of facial rosacea.
With all this built up resentment towards this specific light source, one may think that I would wish them all an untimely end. However, considering that the lights are all shielded by a protective layer, (no doubt to save them from folk like me), the only other way to defeat them would be to wait until they burn out on their own. But that too poses no resolution, as fluorescent light tubes do not die without a fight. You will never see a tube succumb to old age peacefully, and they will flicker with protest for weeks and months. Not satisfied after a life of harshening features and offering eye-sore induced headaches, the incessant random strobe light effect of an expiring fluorescent will try to take the unfortunate people below with it by annoying them to suicide. Sadly, the fluorescent tube is here to stay, our indoor, electrical society ensuring its survival. And as our dependence on artificially manufactured elements shines brighter, it brings to mind how we will never have a lighting chance against them.
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