Revolution

I was looking back through my archives the other day and it took me back to my most prolific days when I was pounding out stories regularly, sending them out, and collecting my rejection slips. It was both invigorating and daunting. It led to a revolutionary decision.

There were two stories that for different reasons don't fall into my usual anti-epic story approach. One involved an unexpected meeting with a lot of pain and passion twisted up in the baggage. The other told of a later meeting, the political mess it leads to, and a daring rescue by the POV character's benefactor. Both were written in the first person.

So this is what I have decided to do: I am going to combine and re-write both of those stories into one with a third person POV. Time has also clarified some of the things that were issues to me when I initially wrote them and I hope to come out of it with a lengthy Writers of the Future entry. That's the plan. Wish me luck.

R.

Pain in the Glass

Today I decided it would be good to deep clean the fridge. At one point I pulled the glass sheet out of the bottom and carefully scrubbed it at the sink. Clean as new, virtually radiating sanitizedness and sparkling, the sheet was a beauty to behold. Until it slipped from my wet fingers. Elyena said it sounded like someone dropped a jar of beans on the floor. Shrapnel struck my thumb, practically severing it. Glass tinkled to rest all throughout the kitchen and dining room. It was inconcievable the area that glass shards were able to cover. Thank goodness for shop vacs. Merry Christmas everyone.

R.

Metal on My Mind

As I sit here in the hospital, basking in the joy of our first daughter, I thought I would take a few minutes to write some random thoughts I’ve had lately. Somewhere in the Write On Archive there is a post about how when I was younger I thought that I liked heavy metal, that I was a metal head, or some sort of metal maniac. Thanks to Launchcast I learned that it is not so; I am merely a hard rocker who lists some metal bands among his favorites. Sorry for the snub, heavy metal.

So here I will take you on a tour of some of my metallic ideas of late. Let’s Rock.

I’ve found myself thinking of Anthrax lately. Because I was obviously a Master of Metal I felt that I should like them, but beyond I am the Man I could never develop a taste. The other day I heard a couple of songs on the radio. I enjoyed them, but before Bawitdaba and Adrenaline there was Caught in a Mosh. I believe that is the first mosh pit song, but I’m willing to be corrected by them of you as that know. I also put I am the Law, inspired by the comic character Judge Dredd, and their cover of Sabbath Bloody Sabbath. All in all it is a good lesson in why only the front man should have a live mike. Not really, but sometimes.

Some songs have come out lately from so called NuMetal bands, those alternative-metal acts spawned in the nineties after the well-deserved blow to butt-rock led to a metal meltdown. It is funny how things turn out sometimes. Some acts started strong out of the gate and then took the road of the power ballad or just decided to suck. For my examples I carefully selected Faith by Limp Bizkit and Mudshovel by Staind. Then I took Faith off again because the version available had a huge F-bomb right in the middle. Whatever Fred.*

Clawing our way out of the sludge, I wanted to share a few amazing tunes with you, my readers. These are from bands that supposedly sucked, couldn’t solo, and were supposedly going to be crushed under the metal wheels of supposedly better bands. You can see there is a lot of supposition in that.

The first song is Prodigal Son by Sevendust. To me they are the Hootie of metal; they’ve got a soul of steel or something like that. Prodigal Son is nothing out of the ordinary for them; it has raw verses with a hook-heavy chorus. Still rocking.

Next is Dead Memories by Slipknot. These guys make a bunch of unbearable noise with the occasionally undeniably brilliant slab of iron that makes me giddy. I have heard three tunes from their new album, and been impressed with every single one. I picked Dead Memories because Corey Thomas manages to sing the whole song without screaming or using the F-Bomb, then just in case you forgot they were a metal band they blast some double-bass drum action all the way through the second verse.

Mudvayne falls under the same category as Slipknot for me. Their new song Do What You Do is a metal sucker-punch. A groovy first verse and catchy melody set the trap, the jaws spring with the intensity of the chorus, and then just in case you hadn’t figured out that you weren’t listening to 3 Doors Down they turn the second verse on its head and play some downright metal riffage over the same catchy melody.

To end my metal monologue, I will discuss a band that started off suckin’ it up but has earned my admiration. Back in the days of yore there were a lot of bands that had a “sound.” Something about the band made it recognizable even if the listener had never heard the song before without hearing the vocalist. For example, someone might recognize Rush by the way Neal Peart uses his right hand. They might recognize Van Halen from the “Brown Sound,” that unique combination of flanger, reverb, and delay that makes Eddie’s tone so easily identifiable. Or it might be the way Kirk Hammett slathers a lead in his own wah sound that gives away a Metallica song. On and on. Except for many years now bands have not done such a thing. Please share examples if I am wrong. I suppose that that crazy chorus effect that Shaun Morgan uses on all of his solos might identify a Seether song, but nothing else really would. The band of which I come to started out rather Sickly but have garnered my attention with every passing album. I find that like so many of those older bands I can recognize them in an unheard song; I think it is something in the rhythm section because their guitar player frequently changes tones from song to song, but I could be wrong. Indestructible showcases their pummeling combination of melody and brawn.

So that is some of what I’ve been thinking about Metal. That and that Death Magnetic is an amazing Metallica record. I figured this post was dragging on long enough. I would be happy to post my thoughts on Death Magnetic in greater detail if anyone wants to have them. Rock on, people. Have a Metal Christmas.

R.

*Catherine Wheel was never NuMetal band but they rock. And Black Metallic has “Metal” in the title and that is what we are about today.

The Magic is Gone

After I made a comment on her blog stating that I had boycotted magic, Theadra asked that I explain myself. Given my longwindedness I thought it would be worth posting here, for courtesy's sake and in case my opinion could be of help to any of my other readers. Ing also said he didn't use magic and I hope to see his reasoning turn up somewhere as well.

Many years ago when I was painstakingly creating the world of my fiction I had been reading a lot of fantasy. History as always, but I was devouring fantasy like chocolate-covered cinnamon bears. In my slow, over-analytical way I started to notice that a lot of authors would use magic as a crutch for weak writing. Their characters would get in a bind and all of the sudden there would be a magical out for them. A lot of times it was completely spontaneous as if rather than work out a solution they just inserted magic so they could move on. I find this problem to be rampant. I can think of few fantasy writers who do not use magic in this way.

Another thing that influenced my decision was reading Jack Whyte's pre-Arthurian books. They were a fascinating historical-minded look at the origins of the Arthurian world, with rational, semi-scientific explanations for many of the fantastic elements. I found that very thought provoking and impressive. I can't recommend the books on account of their graphic and sometimes perverse nature, but they did influence my thinking on this matter.

So I started toying with the idea of creating a minimalist fantasy world that would be completely fictional but without any system of magic. It has been a challenge, but very fun to write. Hopefully my rant will inspire any of you using magic to go the extra mile when you are having a "I'll just use magic so I can move on" moment. Write on.

R.

Ladders

Friday was my final day with my mega-corporate employer. As I packed up my cube and exited the building I was filled with memories of the seven years I spent with them.

One day, a year and some-odd months ago, I was doing inside sales at a location. One of the outside salesmen was near my desk and asked, “What are you doing with that white hat? Or should I say yellow?” He was referring to a sweat-stained cap with the company logo on it that hung on the wall behind me.

“I keep that to remember where I came from.” He gave me a blank look and left.



Almost seven years ago I started working for The Company as a forklift operator. Ironically I had seen the job offer through a temp agency and refused to take it, applying for the job directly at a later point when I was more desperate for work. It made a huge impact on the next seven years, and probably will for the rest of my life. Within months of hiring on The Company closed that location, and because I was an actual employee and not a temp-hire I was able to transfer north as a forklift operator for another location. It was a bigger operation and I learned a lot. I also offered a lot of suggestions, tried to learn everything I could, and threw my hat in for every position that opened up. The result was always the same; they patted me on the head and told me to get back on my forklift. During this time I tried to go back to school and flunked out due to the massive amount of overtime my supervisor demanded.

A year or so later a chance came for me to transfer north again as an assistant yard foreman. I was initially very excited and optimistic. My hopes were in vain. I entered the darkest days in my time with the company. Looking back time has revealed and clarified some of the things that made my life hell and caused lasting repercussions for years. The foreman was using me as a scapegoat for anything and everything that went amiss in the yard and/or with deliveries. The people inside the store treated me like I was a leper. During this time I heard about a purchasing position that opened at the district office (the same kind of position that I have had for the last year.) Without talking to anyone at the location, I threw my resume into the ring. I was given a courtesy interview, patted on the head, and told to get back on my forklift.

I had finally come up with the money to try to redeem myself at the University and had been trudging my way through some classes. That spring I had an educational epiphany, a sort of realization of the difference between becoming educated and getting vocational training. I abandoned the training I was pursuing for the purpose of impressing The Company and set about trying to educate myself. In the darkness there grew a distant light.

The result of my new mentality and my interview was that the store manager started looking at me differently. A counter position opened and she asked me to fill it. I told her I would like to have more freedom to schedule school classes; she conceded. I was off of the forklift.

And then The Company decided they didn’t need that store and closed it down. With a full load of classes scheduled all over the place and a family to support I was in terror of what kind of job I would have to get. There were no sales positions open anywhere. Then one of the drivers took an unexpected position. I transferred east to drive truck for The Company. It had been one of my duties as assistant yard foreman, so I knew what it would mean, and it put me back under my nemesis who transferred there as well. However . . . the manager agreed to support my school schedule, so the foremen (including my nemesis) had to be satisfied.



Help came in the form of a mixed blessing. One night early in the fall I was crossing a campus street on my way to class when a sun-blinded driver turned the corner and took me out. While this long chronicle is in honor to my days and findings with The Company I think I will digress and briefly tell about this experience. The car struck me on the left side and sent me flying. The inertia must have caused me to black out briefly. I came to with a relaxing sensation of weightlessness; time moved slowly; I could see nothing but the blue of the sky; “Oh hell,” I thought as it occurred to me that I hadn’t hit the asphalt yet. The pain was amazing. I landed on my hip and elbow. My bag cushioned me in such a way as to keep my brains from smearing the road. Also amazing was that in the end there were no broken bones; a decent amount of muscle, ligament, and tendon damage, but nothing broken. Amazing.

Because of my previous counter experience I was put on the counter while the doctor had me on light duty. By the time the allotted period was past the Manager decided he needed me more inside than out. He canned one of his old people to make way for me.

Within months I had been moved up again into inside sales support. It was a grueling, high-stress position. But I did it for several years, and transferring way south (my archive has some comments about my commuting days) to perform it while I finished school. I kept the hat close by to remember that the actions I took resulted in some person working and sweating long hours in heat and cold. If I typed up 800 sticks instead of 80, it would result in someone besides me going out, possibly at the end of a long day, to pick up the excess 720 boards and bringing them back to the yard. Salesman throughout The Company screw around and screw stuff up continually without giving a damn about the extra burden they inflict with the justification of “It’s their job.” It is a shame that the consequences are so out of proportion.

I graduated a year ago and stepped into the purchasing job I wanted all those years ago. I hung the hat on my cube wall, even though in purchasing my actions rarely had any physical consequences for those at the store level.

In a way these seven years have been like a manifestation of the American Dream. I started at the bottom and ended part of a district support team. I don’t often feel that way though. In my climb up the ladder I passed people of greater intelligence, people who worked harder, and people who deserved more than me. My time with The Company destroyed my ideal that anyone who was willing to work hard and give it their all could be successful. The deck is stacked. I am grateful for what I was blessed with. It got my family through some trying times. I’m more grateful for the lessons I have learned.

Thanks for reading.

Riotimus

Quest

The holidays are upon us--whether we would risk them or not--and I fear that things will drop off for some of us. But not me. I've got time on my hands just like in that song by Styx. Hopefully some of you are still reading because I would like your help.

The quest seems to be an unavoidable aspect of fantasy storytelling. Back in the Howard days, Conan was a vagabond and even when he made himself king of Aquilonia I don't think it lasted long. Lord of the Rings set the epic quest formula. Jordan's convoluted endless drama is just a series of soap-operatic quests. Quests, quests everywhere.

Is the quest mandatory to good fantasy? I would like your thoughts and any examples you are willing to share. I am currently reading a book called The Tough Guide to Fantasyland. It is a satirical fantasy encyclopedia that addresses common cliches and stereotypes in popular fantasy stories. It is great for a laugh; it also shows the difficulty in telling a quest story with any hope of originality. I believe it can be done, so carry on if you are committed to your quest tale. Have you read any fantasy that doesn't follow the quest format? What was it and how did it strike you? Your input is appreciated.

R.

Distraction

I’ve been chipping away at reading Rise and Fall of the Third Reich. Yes, still chipping. My bookmark looks to be working its way between the one-third and halfway point of the book. It is a lot of pages, but considering I have never encountered a book before with print as small as it is I can’t really compare my progress to anything else I have read. Consequently I was beginning to lose faith in my reading abilities. I’m known as a thorough reader*, if not a fast one, so time to the finish line is a sensitive point to me.

So I made a decision.

I decided to insert a novel into the middle of my study of the Third Reich. I picked The Firm by John Grisham. I’d never read it before and it had been a long time since I read anything by him. Apparently the years I have spent writing and studying other writer’s work increased my senses to some finer points of style that I will examine on hereafter.



The first thing I noticed was that the prose was weak. I understand that is one of his early works, but I still found myself thinking of his backlist and considering Grisham as the Louis L’Amour of legal thrillers. Maybe he got better. It really has no bearing on my examination except as an insight to how my analytical skills have changed over the years.

In The Firm the characters are all static and flat. I understand that there are different terms out there and when I say static I mean that there is no character growth (the beach scene isn’t what I’m talking about) and they all have the liveliness of one of those Build Your Character sheets inserted into the text of the story. The only person in the story who inspired any emotion from me was Abby, and it was because she was married to an ingenious chump, not because Grisham wasted anytime making her a person. So it is obvious that The Firm isn’t a character story.

So why did I burn through it in less than a week? It had me on the edge of my seat. Grisham created a lot of tension. I suspect that he reverse engineered his story the way a lot of mystery writers do; he came up with how the ending would go and then worked out what would have to happen for to get there and inserted tidbits throughout the story in a way that defied notice or left the reader wondering how that was going to come into play. I wonder if he deviated at all from his outline.

It always impresses me how many different ways there are to make it as a writer. For all that The Firm kept me riveted while I read; I left it without connecting with a single character and that is rare for me. I apparently lean towards character-driven works. I was also disappointed with the end. Mitch manages to get away with everything on account of his being “smarter than [everyone else]” and Abby loses her family and ends up on the run with Captain Fidelity. Based on the bittersweet endings of some other Grisham books that I vaguely remember I suppose that it could have been meant as an ironic ending, but I expected more from the protagonist and he didn’t have it to give. Maybe Grisham was making a point about expectations.

R.

Solitude

Tonight I was walking home from work a little after sunset. It was cool and the world was blanketed in gold and shadow. I past a house some distance from my home and as the man there was opening his door to climb into his car he offered me a ride. I declined and kept on. It is a quiet neighborhood, and I enjoy the smell of the fallen leaves and the light breeze on my face. It reminds me that I am alive; it awakens some inner self that is free and hopeful. As I walked on I thought about the man. I can't recall his name, but every time I have seen him he has been friendly and kind. I wonder if it would have been better to reach out and make human contact instead of savouring my solitude.

R.

Sonic Scream

When my two lads are fighting amongst themselves the younger makes a sound that is exactly like the cry of the Nazgul. Exactly. I tried to find a video clip to embed in case you don't recall that cry, but I couldn't. Probably better for you if you don't.

R.

Going Around the Office

So with the entire office given the boot by the company to which we gave a collective 219 years of service, I received a variation of this email about twenty times today with something like "We can use all the luck we can get." My principles kept me from sending it to anyone, but this is my interpretation of it:

"To:RIOTIMUS91459873451@mail.com; dude@mail.com; buddy@mail.com; beavis@mail.whitehouse.gov; butthead@mail.gov; chickla@mail.com; linus@mail.com

From: PAB@mail.com

Subject: FW: Chinese Luck Proverb

[Imagine this coming out in a slow Power Point format on a lovely beige background]

This is a Chinese Proverb.

It started in Amsterdam.

It has been around the world 278.6 times. Keep it going.

Don't change any text from the way it came to you.

The Chinese Proverb:

Money can buy you a hot dog, but it can't fill your heart.

Money can buy a house, but it can't make a home.

Money can pay for your cab to the red-light district, but it can't buy you love.

Send this to twenty people you know need good luck.

Good luck will come to you within 24 hours.

Good luck will come in the mail or through the Internet.

One guy got this message and sent it on within five minutes. The next day he got a new job and had lunch at his favorite restaurant.

Another guy ignored this message. Later that day his grandma beat him half to death with a toilet plunger. With his dying breath he crawled to the computer and sent the message out. His grandma had a change of heart and called 911 and he was resuscitated.

A lady sent this message out within 24 hours of receiving it and the next day she got a check for ONE BILLION DOLLARS.

Some guy deleted this message without reading it. He got dysentery from his favorite restaurant and his mom kicked him out of the basement.

Jack sent this message out and he got a girlfriend and the DRE700 was elected president.

Send this to 20 people and you will have good luck."

Yeah.

R.

Happy Election Day!

Cast your ballots, people. Today is the day you can make a difference for the world. It's huge the power that is at our fingertips. Viva la democracy. Or viva la republic. Viva la election. Did you know that Hitler had an election (plebiscite) and didn't annex Austria until he had the approval of the people? Just remember this when you vote:

I sell the things you need to be
I'm the smiling face on your t.v.
I'm the cult of personality
I exploit you still you love me

Have a grate day! Riotimus

Celebration

To celebrate the open-ended options that we have before us Riotimus and the fam enjoyed some Roast Beast with Red Potatoes, slathered in Turkey Gravy from the can. I cooked it in the oven instead of the slow cooker, and because I've never done it that way before the Beast was rather dry. Still it was tasty and now is the time for trying new things. Like Nanowrimo.

I saw Toad the Wet Sprocket play this song in an encore a decade ago. They did it beautifully.

R.

Catching the Bullet

There are innumerable reasons why the Roman Empire grew and just as many for why it collapsed. It is very difficult to back up simple reasons for the things that happened. For example the birth of empire came from the young Republic’s interest in securing peace on its boundaries. That is one argument. I could expound or counter argue that if this were a thesis of some kind instead of a blog post, but that is what it is and I will continue. Indisputably the Romans over-extended their reach and had to rely on conquest for the plunder to support a failing system and an army made up more and more by mercenary tribesman who were more loyal to their own than to any ideology of Rome. Some immigration issues never change.

For administrative reasons the Empire was given two administrative centers, Rome and Constantinople, with the latter taking precedence after Constantinople renamed the city-fortress of Byzantium for himself and set up shop there around 330AD. The Western Roman Empire fell to Germanic invaders while the Eastern Roman Empire waged a thousand-year two-front war. A losing war.

The tide ebbed and flowed, but the trend inexorably led to shrinkage of the Empire, whose people considered themselves Romans until the very end even though the young nations that grew from the corpse of the west considered them Greeks. By the time the end came in 1453, the Byzantine Empire resided completely within the walls of Constantinople, besieged by the Ottoman Turks to whom they had been losing their lands for two-hundred years.

How did it happen? Almost two-thousand years of culture and strife and in the end it came down to a handful of people manning the walls. Was it overextension? Did the leaders fail to look ahead? Did the people place their momentary success and comfort over supporting policies of long-term viability? Was it six-hundred years ago so who gives a damn?

I have complained about the super-corporation that I work for many times here. I even have a label for Corporate Life. A misspelled link that I will correct if I ever figure out how. In the seven years I have worked for this company I have somehow survived three location closures and a dozen layoffs as they have “managed our footprint.” Almost all of those were close calls. Elyena and I started to feel like we were playing Russian roulette. We finally got the loaded chamber. Recently my employer closed almost a hundred operations eliminating three thousand jobs. 3000. 3K. My department, purchasing, has been on eggshells waiting for to see how that would affect us . . . how many of us would be reduced. Yesterday morning my supervisor called a meeting and announced that our entire office is being eliminated with no hope of relocation.

It has been an interesting seven years. In my working lifetime, starting at the age of fourteen, this was the first big corporation that I worked for, and I owe a lot of my education and understanding of the way the world works to it. My previous employers were all family businesses. They left a lot to be desired. One shaved a little off of my time cards like I was too blind to see the eraser marks or too ignorant to know that taking a little off of everyone’s time week after week resulted in saving thousands of dollars a year. Quite respectable for a family business. And there was the one that almost got me killed by taking penny-pinching shortcuts like disconnecting the safety sensor in the seat of an industrial trencher, the end result being that even after I was ran over and had to have knee surgery that I sat in my leg brace and watched while they sent the same machine in the same condition back out on the job.

Through all of this I maintained that it was the family businesses that were so flawed. It is in large part thanks to my expiring employer that instead of the big business loving Republican that I grew up as I am the unrepresented fighter of the invisible aristocracy of America. I used to have the idea that Human Resources are there to look after the employee. The years have helped me to recognize that resources are there to be exploited by the company, human or otherwise, and HR is the vehicle propaganda. I sat in an HR meeting where our rep announced some heinous change the company was making “for our stockholders,” whatever the hell that means.* “The company is not out to screw you,” she said. No it isn’t. It’s not vindictive. It’s just completely apathetic. It’s just business.

Our industry is cyclical and instead of getting ready for the downswing my employers kept gobbling up smaller companies in order to look good to “the stockholders.” It was corporate imperialism at its worst and it left us wide open to the massive collapse of our empire. Their empire. Their influence has helped me become a closet commie. That’s beside the point, though. They were too busy posturing to be ready for the economic situation we are facing. And their employees are paying for it.

It may sound like I am going postal, but I am not. As long time readers know, as well as friends and family, I have long considered my relationship with this company as much a liability as an asset. As of December 5th I will be a free agent. I will find a new job and will have no long-term employment ties to keep me from going to graduate school. So here’s to change: may mine be the only company that tanks in the economy to come, and I promise not to turn this blog into a whining forum. Unless I have another dang clever historical analogy to go with it. Only time will tell.

R.

*I don’t believe in stock holders. I think it is a myth used by boards of directors to do whatever they like. The stockholders are millions of Americans who are dumping money into their 401K plans. So when a company says they are doing something for their stockholders they are at best blowing sunshine but more likely taking advantage of the ignorance of their employees.

Absentee

I have been writing a story that pushes beyond anything I have done before. The story is about a man who's been living a normalish life when all of a sudden things start happening to him because of someone he knew growing up. That person has not made (in what I've written so far) nor will he make an appearance in the story. His influence will be throughout the story (or stories). I don't know how well it will work. Have any of you tried such a thing?

R.

Fiction or Non-Fiction

I’ve decided to do an edition of “Or What?” that deals with what we read. I’ve noticed differences in the way I handle fiction and non-fiction works and that has led me here to ask about reading patterns.

When I crack open a novel I find that I can burn through it in a matter of days even with work and writing and whatever else I’m doing. Some go faster than others; I blasted through Card’s Empire in no time flat, but I’m slogging my way through Madame Bovary after months. I didn’t enjoy Empire, so my reading pleasure isn’t a factor; I suppose it could be the translation factor on a two-hundred year old text. I had the same problem with War and Peace so it is quite possible. However, those are exceptions. Most fiction flies by for me whether I would wish it or not.

Non-fiction is another story. I tend to read a lot of it because being a historian is on my list of aspirations. I’m currently reading The Rise and Fall of the Third Reich. Still reading it. It is a monster of a book dwarfing Robert Jordan-sized novels and sporting that tiny text publishers seem to cherish for non-fiction. I think I am a third of the way through it. It is a revelation as to how fast a constitutionally protected nation can in the space of a decade become a dictatorship and police state by the will of a determined person who has cultivated the loyalty of the right thugs. That is all beside the point, though. I read a lot of history and a lot of geography works, along with whatever subject I find I am lacking but need for my stories. It always takes so long to get through, even if it is worth it in the end.

There isn’t much that I don’t read; if I have one area that gets ignored it is contemporary standard fiction. I usually don’t pick up contemporary fantasy or sci-fi either. I don’t have patience to wait years for the next installment only to have the author keel over before completing the series; I’m thinking of Robert Jordan and George RR Martin here. Only Jordan is dead, but everything else applies to Martin. By the time his next volume is done I will have to reread the series to remember what is going on and I’m not sure I’m emotionally up for that. I would have been better off waiting until he finished or died, but it’s too late for that. I tend to lean towards British Lit from the Romantic and Victorian periods. Some of my favorites are pre-WWII American works like All the King’s Men and anything by Willa Cather.

So what kind of things do you read? Is it strictly fiction? Specific genres of fiction? Do you have noticeable patterns when you switch types or genres?

Write On,
R.

Movie Buff

Okay,I'm not particularly buff and I don't watch that many movies, but if you do I highly recommend the blog A Noble Experiment: Like Prohibition or "The Village". You don't have to enjoy movies either, just have a penchant for dry dark humor with a touch of irony. The author, Gretchzilla ((as in the high end musical instrument manufacturer) or Zilla for short), has a Manga Monday, Theatre Thursday, and numerous observations about life, work, and college in between. So check it out.

R.

Beavis or Butthead

I felt like doing a presidential "Or What?" so I am slapping down a post I put on my family blog along with my associated comments. Feel free to add to and expound upon it.

Bad News

I can't hold it back any longer. I've seen the future, and it doesn't look good. After the elections this fall . . . politicians will continue running our country. I use the term "running" loosely. Very loosely.

R.

A family member talks about LOTR and how we should remain hopeful.

riotimus said...

Hope for the Presidency would be much easier maintained if it were Aragorn vs. Sauron instead of Grima vs. Denethor. Alas, a lot of us survived the seventies somehow, so who knows what may happen.

R.

A family member comments about being prepared for anything.

riotimus said...
It is good to be ready. Ready for anything. To throw out my analogy again from another angle, I wish that the options were Agent Mulder vs. the Cigarette Smoking Man. But what we've got is Agent Spender vs. Alex Krycek. And some people survived the Holocaust, so we'll probably be fine in the loosest sense of the word.

R.

riotimus said...
Expanding on that even more, I'd like to see Simon Snowlock vs. King Elias instead of Earl Fengbold vs. Skali Sharpnose. But then a lot of people lived through that California trainwreck a few weeks ago, so we'll probably be fine.

R.

Linkin Park or Mansfield Park

For this installment of “Or What?” I will be offering up California nu-metal rockers Linkin Park up against Jane Austen’s Mansfield Park. On the one hand you get that unique amalgamation of pop, rap, and metal that is Linkin Park, and on the other you get one of Austen’s least popular books, maybe the least.

Several years ago I saw a televised performance of Linkin Park. To say that they were sucking it up is an understatement. Chester (blonde guy, does all of the singing and most of the screaming) was all over the place trying to find some semblance of pitch. I was thinking that digital sound manipulation was a handy thing for them. That didn’t stop me from enjoying a lot of their recorded material, and I have heard enough of them sounding good live to think that the sound guy must have forgotten to turn on Chester’s ear plug monitors. I bet he woke up in a dumpster. At least that’s where I fancy I would have put him after being televised with no idea where in the hell my vocals were in the mix. I’ve made a little mix of LP songs for your listening because I know you come here planning to spend a half hour listening to the music I’ve chosen for you.

Mansfield Park was an interesting story listening experience for me. I’ve found that I have a love for Jane Austen books on audio that I never had on paper. It must be the accents. This was a hard one for me though. From the criticism I’ve read of the novel I’m not unique in despising Fanny. I found her to be annoyingly timid and I couldn’t abide all of the cringing. Of course the salt in the wound came at the end of enduring Fanny’s suffering when Austen says that Fanny is the ultimate example of womanly virtue. I would like to have seen what would have happened if Austen had stuck Elizabeth in Mansfield Park. It would have been a much more interesting story. If any of you are suddenly slammed with inspiration and decide to write that story be sure to send me a copy for my reading pleasure.



As far as redemption goes for the Fanny factor there is a little. The amoral Crawford siblings provide some interesting dialogue and intrigue to the book. I think Henry Crawford must have provided Oscar Wilde with at least some inspiration for the illustrious Dorian Gray. There are also some very touching moments, some joyous and some heartbreaking. I have to admit to feeling a lot of satisfaction when the evil Mrs. Norris takes it upon herself to leave Mansfield Park to stay with the shamed slattern Maria. It has quite a happy ending for some of the characters, the ones that aren’t evil.

So . . . would you listen to Linkin Park or read Mansfield Park? Or would you listen to Linkin Park while reading Mansfield Park? That possibly could add a lot to both experiences. Until next time, Write On.

R.

Eye of the World or Eye of the Beholder

I am listening to Eye of the World at work. What a thrill to get paid to slog through Robert Jordan. I say that because I'm not afraid of tainting your view one way or the other. So I'll weigh them in.




In his first volume of the Wheel of Time series, Robert Jordan throws down some blatant Tolkienisms (thankfully free of Hobbits or any of their renamed ilk) and starts the ball rolling on about a billion loose ends that will have to wrapped up by some guest author since trying to keep them all straight killed him. That was quite irreverent, I know, but it is mild compared to how I felt when I read volume 35 and found him still creating threads instead of tying them off. So we have the collection of stereotypes that make up the cast all in their immature and untried state, though as Aestril once pointed out the woman never stop folding their arms under their breasts no matter how much of the world they see. I'm digressing though. There is occasionally a moment of sincerity between characters that causes my heart to swell. As much as I kvetch about Jordan and his books I'm not sure why I'm listening to this, but I am.

Eye of the Beholder is the first Metallica song that I liked and started the long relationship that I have in the past call "the problem of Metallica." The fade-in intro is beautiful and being the jingoistic patriot that I am I love to hear Hetfield growl, "I hunger after independence, lengthen freedom's ring." Of course he was prophetically speaking about a rights-trampling future government at a time when the W Administration hadn't even been imagined and not aggressive foreign policy as the result of extreme patriotism. But who am I to mince words. Some one crank the Metallica and lets read some Robert Jordan.

R.

Or What?

I'm going to throw in some posts that I will think of as "Or What?" posts. They will give some eclectic comparisons and readers can sound off or roll their eyes as they will. There will probably never be anything as simple as apples or oranges. But who knows?

I also am seeing more and more of the Word Count Buddies who followed me into hiatus returning to the quill. I'm shamed. Not quite shamed enough to get up and write yet, but shamed none-the-less. So welcome back former slackers; I hope to join you soon.