Stratification

So on a previous post Ing brought up the old classic Stratocaster. I happen to love my strat, even it it is hardly classic. I purchased this back in '99, towards the tail end of my massive music spending days. It was used and I didn't care anything much about it except that it looked cool and had humbuckers. It had a ding in the paint, but other than that it looked and played great. I ended up with an American Special strat with two humbuckers and a Floyd Rose double-locking tremolo.

I paid about a third what the guitar would cost new. It apparently is even more special than I've thought all these years because I tried to find a picture of anything similar anywhere on the net and failed miserably. These pictures are taken by me of the actual strat.



After I'd had it a while, I was telling a friend who'd played bass in a couple of bands with me about it. When I told him about the Floyd Rose he looked skeptical. "How does that sound?" he asked with this look on his face.
"It sounds fine. Why?" Riotimus said.
"Oh . . . I've just heard that those really screw up your tone."
Who ever would have guessed? Whoever threw that out into the universe hasn't ever heard this guitar. This is a really hard rocking guitar. I mostly use the neck pickup and it is so hot that I practically don't use any gain for my distorted sound. Lackhand has seen it first hand. It really is a hot pickup.
My brothers and I have talked on more than one occasion about started little jazz/fusion trio. I have another great guitar, an Ibanez Artstar. (I found this picture online. I actually pulled the pickguard off of mine.)


It is a good guitar and very versatile. As you can probably imagine at a glance it sounds good whether playing "Stranglehold" or "Take 5."

It is my oldest guitar and the scale by which I measure every guitar I meet. But I digress. The Artstar has a lovely jazz sound as might be expected with the semi-hollowbody design.

It was my plan to use the Artstar for our little jam-borie, but one day I was jamming on the strat and someone wanted to hear one of the tunes we'd been messing with. I said, "I don't know what it'll sound like on the strat, but here it goes."
So I switched to the neck pickup and went to my custom jazz setting on my amp . . . and it blew the Artstar away. Some things just aren't fair. The Artstar is a specialized tool, generally misused by rockers like myself, a jazzy sounding beast. Why should the strat be able to rock so hard and still sound so pure, so rich, so magical? It doesn't look the part, but if I recorded both of these guitars playing jazz and then asked just about anyone to identify which sound went with which guitar, they'd want to put the best sound with the Artstar, the obvious jazz implement. Let it be known that, even though I would enjoy having any of the guitars I've talked about here, I love my strat. It rules.

R.

Woo Ee

By the time I go to bed tonight, I'll have been up for for roughly forty hours. School rules.

R.

Reflection

Just call me Jewel.

R.

Got 'er Done

I just submitted my little dark fantasy story. I had a lot of help in revising and bouncing ideas and I'd like to thank them as that took the time to read the story and made the effort to get me some feedback. I'm happy with the story. Hopefully the editor will be too. Write on.

R.

Guitars, Cataphracts, Hills, and Great Music

This country tune came to my mind the other day and I thought to myself, "Self, who knew you and Dwight Yoakam had so many of the same interests. In tribute to that observation I've decided to expand upon all of these great things and how they relate to Riotimus.

Guitars

Guitars are great. Guitars are swell. I love to bang on them and really give them a good rocking. I've had a fetish for "offset waist" guitars for a few years now, which is unfortunate since my guitar buying days are behind me. At least for now. Here are a few axes that aren't in Riotimus's jamming room but should be:

Fender Jazzmaster


Fender Jaguar


Fender Mustang


Fender Tornado


Fender Jagstang


Cataphracts



The cataphract was the precursor to the medieval knight. After being routed again and again by Eastern horsemen, the Roman Empires transitioned from lightly or unarmored cavalry to a system where man and horse were encased in metal. Indeed, the word cataphract means something like "camp stove." The cost of maintaining the horses and acquiring the equipment required a great deal of wealth, setting the stage for the feudal system. In battle the cataphracts would form a wedge and drive through the enemy line, usually straight at their leader, making a hole for lighter armored cavalry and infantry to come through. The Byzantine version of the medieval period was not so heavily armored as in the above picture, but was also a mounted archer who inspired fear throughout the Eurasia.



Hills

I love to run to the hills like in that song by the Iron Maidens. They are incredibly cathartic for me. Next month I'll be going to the San Juans for my dad's memorial service. They are beautiful.






These are the Bookcliff Mountains near where I grew up. I hunted these with my dad when I was a kid, took my Bronco out in them with my wife while we were courting. They are amazing.





Music

Music has always been a big thing for me. Below is a crazy list of songs that are significant to turning me into Riotimus.

"Queen of Hearts" - the first song Riotimus remembers ever singing.
"Hang 'em High" - the gritty first hard rock Riotimus experienced at a neighbors house that changed the way he listened to music forever.
"You're Time is Gonna Come" - one of the only songs ever with cool keyboards, this song convinced Riotimus that music didn't have to be the new thing to be cool.
"Fly to the Angels" - butt rocker anthems moved Riotimus in the days of first loves. Riotimus saw Slaughter twice live. It was awesome.
"Smells Like Teen Spirit" - Riotimus is really sick of this song. But the first time he heard it he was at a party where MTV was playing through the home stereo. Teenagers were snowboarding down the stairs and the host was drunk and breaking his parents bed. Yeah, he paid for that one. After years of listening to butt rock, Nirvana's rawness shined on Riotimus like capital-t-truth. Of course it wasn't, but Riotimus was only 16, so what did he know anyways?
"Eye of the Beholder" - Riotimus was hanging at the gas station with his buddies at lunch when someone pulled up and cranked this tune from the beginning. Riotimus knew then, as he does now, that Metallica is the greatest rock band of all time.

I could keep going on and on, but since I'm out of time I'm just going to go with these. I hope you enjoyed this peek deep into the inner brain of Riotimus. And I hope you didn't get any on you.

R.

Shifting Gears

A friend sent me an email telling me of a dark fantasy anthology that is seeking submissions this month. I've temporarily shifted from my modern cowboy stories to write a piece for the anthology. It will be a unique challenge; it is both darker and more magical than what I usually do when I write fantasy. I'm about a quarter of the way through it now. Hopefully my fingers will be more magical than usual as well.

R.

Spastic

I've never been much of a fan of hip hop. I can't stand a lot of it and I actually like very little of it. It strikes me funny that I should take to watching "dance crews" dancing to it. Some of it is worse than the music. Sometimes something just blows my mind, though, like this performance by the Jabbawockeez:



How does a person get their body to do that kind of stuff? Unbelievable.

R.

Ascending Trajectory

Amid the tumult of life that is surrounding me I am happy to report that I've been hired to teach Literature and Composition this summer to high school kids in a special program that helps them prepare for college. The pay isn't much, but it is a national program that will hopefully look good on my resume.

On the writing front, I am five chapters into my novel, hoping to knock out another today. Or at least get started on one.

R.

Ashes

Dad was cremated yesterday. It was a crazy hard day. He lived with so much vitality; he was too young to go, to suffer as much as he did. It's strange to think that after the intensity he lived with that all is left is some dust and a few trinkets. No more stories, too-sweet breakfasts, or debates solely to get someone riled up. No more horse rides through the mountains or belated lessons he'd intended to give when I was younger. Indeed, resting in peace seems to be held by the dead. I miss you Dad.

R.

Standardized Education, er, Tests, er, Teachers, er, etc.

People always know how to fix the problem with American schools. You can see that in Obama's new standards approach and in this attack on teachers. In the first article, Obama wants to throw some of our grandchildren's money at the problem. By bringing the states together to adopt a universal standard which the federal government would enforce, he will fix our issues. In the second, the weight of academic success for the entire country should be the sole responsibility of the teachers as if they are assembly line workers.

They are both swell articles.

But who is talking about the real problem?

The problem isn't one of money. Money is only as useful as those spending it are creative and wise - a rare combination in my experience.

It isn't teachers. Teachers are people, and like people in any field some are talented, lazy, brilliant, passionate, disinterested, and self-interested. There are those teachers that help us to love learning, and those that cause us to hate it. If someone compares their list of which is which with Joe-down-the-street, they might find that their lists are completely opposite.

The truth is that learning is the responsibility of the learner. Every parent has probably learned (whether they admit it publicly or not) that you cannot force knowledge (education, skill, or values) on someone who is unwilling to do the work to acquire them. The learner must decide that acquiring the knowledge will be worth his or her while in some personal, material, or social fashion, and then keep at it until the knowledge is their own.

So we reach the root of the problem. Acquisition of knowledge is not an American value.

Acquisition of wealth is valued by Americans. Some people try to claim an association between acquisition of knowledge and acquisition of wealth. I won't make such a claim, even if the odds are better for someone with education than for someone lacking.



Acquisition of entertainment is valued by Americans. That's why someone will shell out big bucks (theirs or their parents') for college, then sit in class and text or watch YouTube or play games. That's why the graduating generation is looking for companies that allow employees to use social networks on the job.

As parents, we may or may not make our kids do their homework. We may or may not help them do their homework. We may or may not expect a certain grade performance from them.

But when was the last time our children saw us turn off tube or step away from the game console or computer and learn something, anything at all, that didn't have an entertainment payoff (like the instructions for the Wii) or have dollar signs attached (like a book on how to become a millionaire by reusing your old toilet paper)?

Improving American education, like improving American work ethic, American morals, and American anything else, will depend on our families. No amount of government money or misplaced accountability can help our children to value their education. What we can do is develop and demonstrate our own love of learning and hope that our children can be convinced to emulate us.

R.

The Orwellian World

Newsweek posted this article about big brother and our dwindling freedom of movement. It discusses the way government agencies can track us by our cell phones using broadcasting towers to triangulate where we are down to a city block, or if our phone has a GPS feature, our exact locations . . . and not even need a warrant to do it. In fact, if not for resistance among the judicial community, it might never have come to light that we could be followed in such a way, either in real-time or in saved data.

One of the instances of cited abuse occurred when an agency tried to get records of all the people at a union labor protest. The exciting thing about that is when you feel like engaging in a peaceful demonstration against publications that only print stories and poems written by their own editors or against skinny jeans or against pop divas or against tracking people by their cell phones without their knowledge, you can do so knowing that your name, conveniently pulled from your cell phone records, will go on a list. Everyone loves to be on a list.

R.

The New Project

I have decided to take the short cowboy stories I've been writing and turn them into a full-blown novel series. I started today and I'm over five hundred words closer to being done now. Plus I impressed Mrs. R immensely, which I always enjoy. I'm not sure anyone comes here anymore, but I am going to try to update more often.

R.

Merrily Christmas

My family is at my in-laws for Christmas. It was a traditional Eve and Morn--short night and early morning--but well worth it. The kids had so much fun. I had fun too; in my stocking was a five-function survival whistle that included flash mirror, compass, and lanyard, amongst other things.

Hope everyone is having a Merry Christmas.

R.

Do You Know Where Your Make-up Comes From?

In the wild lands to the south, an epidemic has been discovered--the slaying of fat people for the bountiful treasure within. This human lard is then sold to European cosmetic companies for up to $60K a gallon.

R.

For the Love of Books

Setting: Jr. High classroom; kids being noisy because they just have a substitute. Mr. Riotimus gives them their instructions and sits down. Picks up From Puritanism to Postmodernism: A History of American Literature and begins to read. Odd Girl walks up to him and stares intently.

Odd Girl: I've read that before.

Mr. Riotimus: That's great.

Odd Girl: It's a good book.

Mr. Riotimus: I'm glad you liked it.

Odd Girl wanders back to desk, spends a few minutes doing assignment, then starts reading trendy vampire-romance novel. Stands and shuffles back to substitute.

Odd Girl: That's such a great book (referring to Puritanism).

Mr. Riotimus: (Too dumbfounded to speak).

Odd Girl: I've read it, like, fifteen times!

Mr. Riotimus: (Wishes he didn't have to read it even once as it is heavy on information but light on any of the things that made the works it discusses so pleasant to experience).

Odd Girl: You probably want to know how it ends, but you'll have to finish it and find out for yourself!

Mr. Riotimus: . . . I suppose I will. Thanks.

Finis

Hope your reading endeavors are treating you as well as your writing ones. Write on.

R.

Zanpakuto

There are them as that don't know what a zanpakuto is, and that's a real shame.



Don't cut yourself.

R.

"Do try my stew . . ."

The scene I would like you to watch starts at about 7:30 and may be the greatest scene ever laid down on film. Yes; yes it is. It goes until around 8:07 or so.



R.

What I'm Doing Now

It's tearing you apart, wondering what that is. Well . . . I'm still plugging along on my MA; I've just endured an enlightening read of James Joyce's Portrait of the Artist as a Young Man - that didn't thrill me, but I suppose everybody studying literature is forced to read it at some point. I was impressed with the dialogue. That's about all I can say for it. I've had to read some other more satisfying books, but if I post about them I will do it later.

In spite of my failure to report the numbers, I have been writing, beefing up my portfolio to try to get into an MFA of Creative Writing for next fall. I am getting a good chunk of short stories in my new series put together, with a respectable number of segments jotted down in my pocket notebook. I'm pleased with where the characters are going and the potential the series has. I've not been able to come up with a title for the it, which is strange because I often start with a title or know what the title should be once I begin to grasp the story. What do you call a series about a cowboy in the early-to-mid nineties? I hopefully will come up with something bettet than The [Main-Character] Stories soon.

I've come across a fairly fun band called Skillet. They sound like a cross of Hinder, Evanescence, and Plumb. It's always nice to find something hard-rockish that won't leave the kids scarred if they hear it. Here's one of their tunes set to a segment of Bleach (for you Zilla).


Watch Bleach Skillet-Monster in Anime  |  View More Free Videos Online at Veoh.com

Write On.

R.

Arachnid

A spider bit me upon the leg

A great long drink of Dixie dregs

Yellow pustules of venom full

Sour poison blistering cruel

Spider, you did avoid mine eye

Someday soon I hope you die

Dear Government . . .

Mr. Obama, the Congress, assorted yes men and bureaucrats of all different sorts:

There was nothing wrong with my state managed student loans. By retroactively purchasing them you are in fact hurting me, my family, and my ability to ever contribute gainfully to this society. This heavy-handed approach to creating a crisis so that you can claim to have fixed something is wrong, and I think you know it.

Sincerely,

Riotimus, an American