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Lone here with your late stats post for the month of March. The end of March/beginning of April marks the end of the first leg of the North American tour but they will be back at the end of summer! For you new folks who went to a show, go on over and say hi in the show threads. We had an increase of total visitors (+31%), total posts (+2%), and total reputation given (+1%). We'd like to welcome @Paola17 to the top five active members of the month, joined by four others who made an appearance the last month. That's it for now. Toodle-loo!
Disquietude Before the Storm
Regret of the spilled words washes over in waves; choking; suffocating. The thoughts I can never retract from my pen and the unease dipping into my soul. Waiting for the other shoe to drop, for the halcyon to crash and descend into nothingness.
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New lyrics. Enjoy.
The Magic Of The Automaton
Here I come
Once was lost
Set me free
I tell myself
Put one up
on the shelf
With every light
that guides my hand
Grind me down
and brittle air
I beg to you
but you don't care
way back then
I could feel
It can't be stopped
with simple force
The damage is done
taken its course
in the confusion
The power of
You can run
but you can't hide
You can't kill
what's deep inside
It's a murder
if I say it so
It's a murmur
now watch it grow
How will you win?
The demon is vapor
Will it take you?
Your will is paper
See it through
hold it down
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This is my first blog entry here, so if you've found yourself reading this then hey! I hope you enjoy the chaos of thought this will no doubt evolve into over time
Oh yeah, there will be spoilers for the show if you're reading this btw, if you haven't already finished it.
So last week I started seeing a lot of controversy on my facebook about 13 Reasons Why. I was seeing people praise it for its brutality, but I was seeing far more people complaining that it was too much/too triggering/disrespectful to mental illness and rape victims. So I had to watch it for a number of reasons. For a start I couldn't imagine it possibly being as brutal as people were making out. Secondly, it was touching on issues like bullying, suicide and rape. I know a lot about bullying, but not much about the other two, so I figured it was kind of important to watch.
The first few episodes didn't really grab me much to be honest. I'm only saying this because I can't fully articulate my thoughts, but they felt kind of High School Musical to me. I obviously knew it was going to go to dark places, and the episodes did have dark undertones, but what I saw from those episodes seemed like a huge cliche, the whole idea of jocks and nerds etc. I don't like the setting of an American High School for some reason, and I thought some of the characters seemed like generic archetypes that would never exist. But I guess that was the genius of the show, you never know what goes on in someone else's life.
As it went on it got harder to watch. I saw the life slowly drain from Hannah over the course of the flashbacks, and I saw Clay unravel in the present through his guilt and anxiety, all while everyone else on the tapes seemed more concerned with their own reputations than the fact they collectively drove a girl to suicide. The basketball scene where Clay hallucinates Hannah's corpse in the middle of the hall stands out to me. I ended up growing to really like Hannah as a character, even though the idea of the tapes was cold and fucked up.
The last few episodes really broke me though. Watching the scene of Bryce raping Jessica was uncomfortable, and I was finally understanding that the show was as brutal as everyone had said, and was only going to get worse. Jeff's death was sad too, he was a sweet guy and didn't deserve his fate, and I felt for Clay in the flashbacks having lost who seemed to be his closest friend. Everybody deserves a Jeff. Then Clay's tape really upset me. The fact that Hannah included him in the tapes, but revealed that she didn't blame him for anything, instead telling him that he was just such a good guy that she didn't deserve because she would've fucked him up. Including him in the tapes to me means that she wanted to explain to Clay why she killed herself, maybe in the hopes of her not wanting him to blame himself. She didn't even do that for her family, and it was really poignant I guess. And Clay's reaction was heart wrenching. Following that, Tony's support for him was touching. We all deserve a Tony too. And the rape in the next episode was painful to watch. The life drains from Hannah's face as it happens. Katherine Langford did a great job as Hannah.
The finale broke me. There had been two rapes and a number of heart ripping emotional scenes, how could it get worse? It showed Hannah actually killing herself. It pulls no punches, we see her slit her wrists and bleed to death in the bath. And if that wasn't bad enough, we see her parents find her body. Nothing happens off screen. I won't lie, that was the moment I finally cried like I'd wanted to since episode 11. And then I cried some more an hour later when I'd gone to bed. Some people can maybe write the suicide scene off as fiction, but it's not. It's reality for so many people every day. When life overwhelms them, they die alone in a bathtub and in agony after cutting their wrists only to be found by a family member or friend who had no idea anything was wrong. It was so raw it really got to me thinking about the people who die like that. And I don't even know anyone who has, I can't imagine what it must be like for people who have known someone who killed themselves. It was sad letting the character of Hannah go too, like I said earlier I'd grown to like her as a character a lot. I should also say I've never been so emotionally invested in a TV show before because I finished it last night but I still feel really fucking sad and gloomy. So please recommend a more cheerful show on netflix to get my mind off this if you can.
I think I'm glad I watched it though, it fucked me up but I can't praise 13 Reasons Why enough.
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There are two pertinent things about me which you must understand: I have a photographic memory, and I am a criminal. My memory means you can trust that my tale is accurate; my criminality does not indicate any deception or fabrication – it is much easier to omit rather than to lie. It is your prerogative to doubt me, for in the interest of my own anonymity I cannot provide any tangible proof of my encounter with the malevolent object (or whatever compels or creates this object) which I have named, for the sake of convenience, the Green Glass.
A photographic memory is certainly an interesting trait, but wasn’t for me a particularly useful one. This trait never got me a high-paying job, hell, it never even helped in getting me laid. I worked at a call center for a major department store taking inbound calls and processing orders for merchandise. As you could guess, I see hundreds of credit card numbers every week, complete with the expiration date, security code, and the full name of the cardholder. Sometimes I even came across social security numbers. If one were to engage in an unsavory crime involving customers’ credit card numbers, there are two ways that person would be caught. The first would be if they were spotted taking a photograph or writing down the number, and the second would be if they were stupid enough to use that number to buy something for themselves. I was more clever than that. I stored that information inside my memory and wrote it down later in the safety of my own home – even my memory has limits. Then I would wait a full year, letting the cardholder make purchases in all sorts of places so that when I sold the numbers on the dark web, there would be hundreds of suspects other than myself that investigators would look for when the cardholder reported fraudulent purchases.
It was a regular work day, and another act of future identity theft I was committing, when I first saw the Green Glass. Then, it had no such name; it was merely a centerpiece for a dining room table being sold on my company’s website. A very expensive, finely crafted centerpiece going for $3,099.99. Who spends that much money on a thing that has no other purpose but to sit on a table and impress dinner guests? This lady whom I was talking to who wanted to order it, who we’ll call “Kristin.” I’ve changed all the names here, of course, so as to not implicate myself in whatever began that day.
“Sixteen” said Kristin, “that’s the item number.” The item numbers on the company’s website are always 7 digits. I seriously doubted my customer knew what the hell she was talking about, but that’s nothing new. The site was never very user friendly, customers tended to mistake all kinds of things for the item number and then I had to find it for them. I was going to politely correct her, but by muscle memory I typed “16” into the search bar and pressed enter. And to my mild surprise, an item actually appeared. It was this centerpiece, which the site’s description told me was “crafted by the most highly skilled glass artisans in North America.” A ridiculously overpriced centerpiece. The only other thing worth noting, apart from the price, is that I saw in the image that the centerpiece had a very faint, very subtle shade of green despite the object also being described as “flawlessly clear.” But that was probably nothing more than bad lighting when the photograph was taken, and if Kristin didn’t mention it, there was no way I would and risk losing the sale.
My employer sold a few luxury items but for the most part, the department store chain catered to middle-class people, and the vast majority of callers were not the wealthy, but instead those looking for $50 items marked down to $10 on a fire sale. Still, I didn’t see anything out of the ordinary at the time, and I was honestly excited – exceed a sales quota and I would earn some bonus cash. This would bring me right over the benchmark. As I half-listened to Kristin’s boring blabbering about her dinner plans and gave her intermittent acknowledgment, I thought of what I might treat myself to with my extra earnings. I explained to her that the one-day shipping she chose actually meant two days but that she would undoubtedly receive it time, and then the call was finished.
Later that night, I was at a friend’s apartment drinking beer, smoking weed, and playing Rocket League. Many of my weeknights went this way. I could stay up until dawn killing time like this because I worked afternoons and evenings. When we took a break from the PS4, I felt inclined to whine to my buddy Eric about the shallowness of my customers. He bitched about his shitty job all the time, so naturally I returned the favor. “This woman bought like, a fucking piece of glass, like a fancy fucking piece of glass, for $3100. Just to sit on a table. For one night. I wanted to tell her she wouldn’t be able to return it so I wouldn’t have to deal with that, but I mean I didn’t want her to get insulted, obviously. I earn that much in 4 months. If I had that much money, I’d buy...” but the weed was kicking in and I forgot what I would have bought. “I wanna see it” Eric said. My other friend, Jason, nodded in agreement. I pulled up the company’s website on my phone and entered 16 into the search bar. But no results came up. I don’t remember anything incorrectly, but anyone can remember 16 regardless. I tried the name of it instead. Nothing. I stubbornly went to the fine china tab and chose the price range, and still I couldn’t bring up the damn thing. “The site is being shitty, never mind” I said. For all I knew, it was just that the site was being shitty. It didn’t matter then.
Kristin called back two weeks later, and that is when things started to get strange. “Hey, I remember you!” she said in a chipper voice. “Do you remember me?” “Yes ma’am, of course” I said. “Did your dinner party go well? Did you get compliments on the centerpiece?” Kristin spared no detail in answering me.
“Oh, everything was perfect. All my colleagues were envious! The reason I’m calling though… last week I was the victim of a home invasion.” I was going to give a courteous “Oh, I’m so sorry to hear that” sort of interjection. But Kristin kept talking. “I wasn’t home at the time. But my husband and Elizabeth, my 6 year old, they were both there. These thugs broke my husband’s jaw, he’s still in the hospital, Elizabeth is sleeping with the lights on. They took most of my jewelry, the cash. But that’s not what’s important.”
“Of course” I thought, but didn’t say. I kept listening. Kristin continued. “You think they stole the centerpiece, right? No, they just broke it. My wonderful centerpiece was in a million pieces on the floor. So heartbreaking. Obviously, I want another. I know you can’t do anything on your end and that’s fine, maybe my homeowners’ insurance will reimburse me, but I want to buy another today. The house looks so empty without it! Can you help me?”
Husband in the hospital, traumatized daughter, and she wants another one. I hated her in that moment. Even more shallow than I thought possible! I hesitated for a moment, but not long. I do my job, and I don’t lecture customers. Normally, I would express sympathy for her family. But she didn’t seem like she would care.
“Are you still there?” Kristin asked. “Yes ma’am. I just need a moment to pull it up.” 16. But the centerpiece still was missing. I searched in every possible way, distracted as Kristin continued to impatiently ask if I had located the item yet. I put her on hold and called my supervisor over. Since it was a valuable sale and she was a high roller as far as customers go, the matter warranted some extra effort. But 10 minutes later, we were at a dead end. My supervisor suggested that I put her on a waiting list so the first centerpiece back in stock is held for her. That usually placated the more persistent customers. Not this time. “Ma’am” I said “I am sorry to inform you that we are out of stock on this item nationwide, but I have added your name to our waiting list and you will receive a call immediately from myself or another associate as soon as we can ship this centerpiece to you again.”
“No!” Kristin protested. “I need it NOW! NOW! Don’t you get it? The house is worthless without it, I can’t stand to be in my own dining room knowing it’s gone! They broke it and I need another one! PLEASE.” I could hear her sob. This was unbelievable. “I’m so sorry” I apologized again, not sorry in the least for this woman. “I’d be happy to offer you a special discount coupon that would be valid for any other item in our fine china selection.” She screamed. Shrieked. Directly into my headset. I tore it off my head and slammed it down on the desk, and I could still hear her frantic pleas. “I WANT IT BACK!! I WANT IT BACK!! HELP ME!! WHAT WILL PEOPLE SAY?!” After that, I couldn’t take it anymore. I hung up. That wasn’t allowed at my workplace, but I didn’t care.
After my shift came another night drinking and smoking with Eric and Jason, who laughed as I told them about this, as they weren’t the ones who had the weaponized sound of this awful woman’s voice assaulting their ears. Both of them speculated on what could have been going on. Eric offered that it was “probably PMS” while Jason mused on his ex-girlfriend with borderline personality disorder. No theories on Kristin’s mental state satisfied me, this was just too much. But with no other choice, I stored this incident in the back of my mind and moved on with my life. Up to this point, I was sure there was a rational, albeit terrible explanation for all this, and I didn’t think the centerpiece itself had anything to do with it. Three weeks later, this belief of mine was challenged.
Back at work, I received a transfer call from an employee in another state who sold furniture. “We’re having some sort of problem with our computers. I have a customer looking to buy a mirror, could you take this, please?” she asked. I accepted the transfer and introduced myself to the customer. “Well howdy” a man with a Texas accent greeted me. “I found a great bargain on a mirror. My family and I just moved into a new house, it’s still pretty bare bones, but I think this mirror would really add some character.” I was too exasperated with work to extol the quality of my company’s items. I apathetically asked for the item number. “That would be 19, my friend” the man answered. In that moment, I did feel uneasy. This was the second time I was given a number that shouldn’t correspond to anything on the website, and the second time it yielded a result nevertheless. It was a mirror, nothing special by my reckoning. When I examined it more closely, I felt a bit more worried. I could see the faint, green hue again on glass that shouldn’t be green.
Like most customers, this man – Greg, talked on while I filled out his order and took a mental snapshot of his credit card information. “It’s kind of new age, or modern, or whatever they call it – I’m a man, I don’t know the terminology” Greg said, laughing to himself. I wasn’t sure what he meant. Then Greg said “I mean, it’s so green, I’ve never seen a green mirror before. But my wife is into that kind of stuff. It’s a birthday present for her, a way of giving her something nice and showing her that I have good taste, you hear?” “It’s a very good choice” I said, not wanting to say anything more.
Some time passed, and one night off from work with not much interesting to do, I felt compelled to pull up the mirror on the company website and take another look. Like before, the merchandise was missing. Then I googled Kristin’s full name, and found her on a local news site for Sacremento. I read the article, and what I read made me seriously consider quitting my job for the first time. “Authorities have ruled that the death of a local business owner and her six-year-old daughter was the result of a murder-suicide.” I read on. “Last July, the Sacremento Police Department were on the scene in response to a strong-arm home invasion. One of the deputies there told reporters that Kristin Ross exhibited strange behavior at the time, apparently ignoring her injured husband and daughter while complaining about some of her valuables being destroyed by the home invaders. ‘She said “They ruined it, they ruined it and I don’t know what to do”, and she refused to answer my questions because she was gathering these pieces of broken glass. She asked me if I had superglue. I thought she was just a bit shaken by what happened, and now I’m very upset to think I might have missed some warning signs of paranoid schizophrenia, or some other condition.’ Matthew Ross, Kristin’s husband, passed away in August from a hospital-acquired infection while undergoing treatment for his injuries. Investigators have speculated that this loss may have caused Kristin’s mental state to deteriorate. Elizabeth Ross’ death was ruled the result of drowning by the county coroner. Kristin allegedly took her own life after drowning her daughter in the bathtub.”
The thought crossed my mind to call Greg. The 10 digits of his phone number were not something I had forgotten. But I didn’t call him. What would I even say? I didn’t even have any idea what was going on. But as it turned out, Greg found me a week later, on national news. An anchorman read from his teleprompter as images of a scorched house and a picture of a middle-aged man were displayed on screen. “Law enforcement officials and first responders in Dallas arrived at a house ablaze after receiving a chilling 911 call. Gregory Farnsworth called 911 on Thursday, stating his intention to commit suicide. We now know that Mr. Farnsworth was under investigation for insider trading, a factor which may have contributed to his tragic decision to end the life of himself and another person. Although police were immediately dispatched to the address the call was placed from, they found the home of Mr. Farnsworth on fire, apparently set deliberately. The bodies of Mr. Farnsworth and a currently unidentified woman were recovered from the scene. The audio and transcript of the 911 call has been withheld.”
I burned my credit card numbers in the sink that night, every last one. As far as I could tell, this thing, this Green Glass, might be something that punishes greed. Although there were many numbers I couldn’t forget, I swore to myself that I would never sell another one again. I locked myself out of my Bitcoin account by randomly generating a new password and copypasting it in to change it. Then I put in my two weeks notice at my call center job. Every day until my last day there, I dreaded every incoming call, expecting a customer to order another glass object that would now be listed under the number “21” - probably the number of victims claimed so far. That didn’t happen. I gratefully took a new job as a pizza delivery driver soon after, and I tried to forget about the Green Glass despite all of my unanswered questions. Why did Kristin kill her daughter? Why did Greg apparently see the glass as a vibrant green when I only saw a pale, barely discernible hue? Does it punish greed, or does it just want to kill as many as it can? I was most haunted by the most obvious question: Why me? Why did it appear for me to sell both times? I regret to inform you I have no answers to this day, and all I can give you now is the story of my last – hopefully, please God last encounter with this fucking thing.
It was a year and change after I found out what happened to Kristin and Greg. I had gotten in Eric’s car on a Saturday night, with Jason there too. Our group, still getting drunk, still getting high, just trying to find some joy in our disappointing lives. We planned to blaze up in a nearby park and then hit a bar or two. We stopped first at a headshop so Jason could buy a new pipe. So we perused the display case, and one pipe caught Jason’s eye. “Check it, guys. That looks gangsta as fuck, look at how bright that green is!” My chest tightened and my heart raced, but I was in for one more surprise: It didn’t look green at all to me; it didn’t even have the slightest hint of green. It was nothing more than transparent glass. “I’ll take it!” Jason declared. The guy behind the desk said “Fifteen dollars.” Maybe I was wrong. Before, I saw the green, and the item was always expensive. But then Jason paid and had it in his hands, and as he showed it to Eric and I, I saw the number 44 on the side of the bowl. I was done.
“I feel sick” I lied. “We’re still close to my place, so I’m just going to walk back. You guys have fun.” Neither of them seemed to believe me. I never told them. I still couldn’t bring myself to warn them. It’s not that I didn’t care, it’s just that I didn’t want to be a part of this. “We’ll drive you back” Eric offered, but I declined. Jason looked me over skeptically and asked “What’s your deal, man? You’re not sick. Come on, don’t be a pussy.” All I said back to him was “I don’t really give a fuck what you think” and I stormed out the door.
Eric called me later that night. Jason was dead. He got into a bar fight. According to Eric, Jason was very high and very drunk, and ended up starting a fight with a stranger over some petty insult. A fistfight broke out, and the man pulled a gun and shot Jason point blank in the chest. I didn’t talk to Eric after that night, I didn’t go to Jason’s funeral. I packed my shit and took a Greyhound to the other side of the country. Again, in vain, I’ve tried to forget about all this. The reason I’m telling my story now is because I think I finally understand what the Green Glass does. That 911 call from Greg was finally released. He was saying: “I’m gonna end it all now, you sons of bitches think I’m a criminal and I won’t ever change your minds. Miranda didn’t even like my mirror, that bitch. I’m lighting it all up now.”
Miranda was the unidentified woman who died in the fire, who I believe was probably Greg’s “other woman.” I think Kristin lied about the home invasion. I think her daughter Elizabeth accidentally broke that centerpiece, and her husband tried to stop Kristin from hurting her. Jason always felt threatened, had problems with self-confidence. Always liked to show off. I don’t think the Green Glass punishes greed. I believe the Green Glass hurts those who worry too much what others think about them. It changes them, talks to them, makes them believe that it is the best thing about them. And anyone who doesn’t appreciate the owner of the Green Glass dies for it in the end, too. That would explain why I no longer saw the color when Jason bought the pipe, because I just wanted out and didn’t care what he thought about me for leaving. That’s my theory, and you can take it or leave it. I don’t give a shit what you think about me, and that might be my only defense.
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Hi all, I wrote a new article for my Her Campus page! Check it out if you'd like. http://www.hercampus.com/school/uwindsor/billie-joe-armstrong-conspiracy-theories
Nearly every day starts the same for me. I wake up late, grab a coffee while getting ready for work, then I spend a few minutes reviewing stats and metrics from across a dozen different websites. On days off like today, the only change is that I haven't showered yet. After getting my coffee and powdered donut (my biggest weakness) I went about trying to find something entertaining to watch while I tweet from my cell phone about other bands I've heard about. Then I finally decided to get of my ass and then immediately plop in front of the desk and start really promoting things. Running an ad on Facebook/Instagram, that takes a lot of work. Then I have to go see what is trending on twitter, might be able to use those. Of course I have 2 of 6 songs left to record for the album, so a quick review of those and any fresh ideas that might come from em are a must! Right now I'm working on the new intro for Opposition, I think it will be massive! It is of course a 7+ minute long song, the second one on this EP. Just can't help myself.
After losing a straight hour between submissions, media contacts, streaming, uploading, downloading, cross referencing, and just general PR shit, I think I'll take a break with some more coffee and keep watching the 13 Reasons Why show. MAybe.
On a side note, I quit nicotine on Friday morning so now I'm noticing how much more ADD I really am! It's fucking insane!
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It’s a question that’s plagued me since I became a fan back in 2004.
People ask me all the time and my answer fluctuates as I continue to grow. As I begin to pack for a weekend filled with fellow Idiots, I decided to attempt to tackle this question and finally pinpoint my answer.
For starters, my jump into fandom was a canon ball from the high dive. There was no dipping of my foot to check the water temperature. I plunged into this. For my 15th birthday, my parents bought me their entire catalogue so it makes it difficult to differentiate which songs were with me at a pivotal time in my life because I got them all at once! Side note, my parents will be punk rockers Monday in Detroit as they attend their first Green Day concert and I can’t wait to see and hear what they think.
Enough babbling, let’s try and answer this question.
Welcome To Paradise was the song that sold me on them.
Jesus of Suburbia was the song that really grasped my attention.
Holiday was the song I loved to blare from my Mustang convertible speakers on the drive to school.
Minority was the song that made it fun to yell, “Fuck them all” while also flipping off the sky.
When I Come Around was the song I drunkenly stumbled over to the jukebox and played on my 21st birthday, so subconsciously this song clearly means something to me.
Bang Bang was the song that blew me away and Still Breathing was the song that brought me to my knees.
But still these gems don’t take the cake as my favorite song.
Tired of waiting to hear my answer?
Waiting. Waiting is the song that I think goes down as my favorite Green Day song. There’s something really special about that song and Warning as a whole in general to me.
I know, I know you probably think it’s a weak, or surprising choice.
I don’t care if it’s an updated version of Petula Clark’s “Downtown” this song gets me every time. There’s something about it I can’t describe. When I hear it I’m immediately filled with some crazy amount of joy and nostalgia. I love that song for what it represents. It’s kind of the last song of the “old Green Day era” which I was never really a part of. Sort of like the Old Testament if you will.
Waiting live is one of my favorite things to experience. It’s a crowd sing-along that you can’t help but get all the feels for. I remember my brother telling me after The Newport show that the look of joy on my face when they started playing Waiting was priceless. I can’t wait to hopefully hear it twice in 72 hours as it seems to be back on the setlist which is a beautiful thing.
It’s a song that gives me hope. Hope about my future career and relationship choices. “I’m destined for anything at all”
So, I think I’ve finally answered this question...for now.
Waiting is nothing but a lovely 3:14 of punk-pop joy for me. It’s infectious and catchy as hell.
It came on the radio the other day and it hit me then that this song is the one I hold close to the heart.
Rage and Love, Idiots
I've been waiting a long time For this moment to come I'm destined For anything...at all Downtown lights will be shining On me like a new diamond Ring out under the midnight hour No one can touch me now And I can't turn my back It's too late ready or not at all
Well, I'm so much closer than I have ever known... Wake up
Dawning of a new era Calling...don't let it catch you falling Ready or not at all So close enough to taste it Almost...I can embrace this Feeling....on the tip of my tongue
Well, I'm so much closer than I have ever known... Wake up Better thank your lucky stars.... (Shey hey hey)
I've been waiting for a life time For this moment to come I'm destined for anything at all
Dumbstruck Colour me stupid Good luck You're gonna need it Where I'm going if I get there... At all....
Wake up Better thank your lucky stars....
Pandora’s nimble fingers, which opened the box
perhaps never pressed, slow, secret and soft
into another’s skin; Zeus bade her keep her desire within
and she never knew that flattened flower feeling
of burying her face in a lover’s neck, of breathing in.
From her fingers fluttered golden hope
on a moth’s powdery wings
that should dissolve in dust and smoke
if it did not, by nature, flutter behind evil things.
Bestowed upon her; all manner of gifts,
a tender heart, eager lips, cunning, wit
but denied to use them –
she can’t ever revel in the feeling of his cocooning hands
all entwined in silk, enfolding tanned waist,
the Pandora’s box of good emotions
that his interlaced fingers so easily open.
Forged out of the Earth, like her,
and with dints imprinted down his spine,
bodies intertwined, she unpeels, unlocks,
and in rush of effervescent, beautiful thoughts,
vulnerability, singular, bumbles out of the box,
gets caught in his prickly beard
that reddens her skin in glittering heat.
He nudges it out; a tesseract of feeble, scintillating doubt.
Him and his first-mortal-forged confidence
and his bare naked talk,
and how she nuzzles him when he can’t sleep.
Into artwork made
when his face laugh lines and his whole body shakes,
two halves of one whole,
both borne of Earth’s molten core,
and bestowing upon eachother all wonderful gifts,
the softest parts of themselves, vulnerability,
offered up to bite or to kiss,
“ I want you to have this.”
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Another sleepless night
Another sleepless night in pain
Another sleepless night in despair
Another day of going through the motions
Another day of loneliness
Another day of praying the pain away
Another day of the prayers going unheard
Another day of knowing how useless of a human being I've become
Another day my disease has cut me down inch by inch
Another day to dwell on how useless of an father I am
Another day of no joy of no hope no future
Another day of someone pointing and saying "oh he's lazy"
not knowing I'm not but I'm in too much of pain to do anything now
Another day of wishing for this life to end
Another day of the reclusiveness
Another day of not having friends to go eat with or talk to in a non social media platform
Another day to be ashamed
Another day to hear the dreaded phrase "it'll get better" to me Another day to repeat no it won't as my disease is forever
Another day of hoping for a day of normalcy
Another day for another sleepless night
Another sleepless night to repeat the cycle
Time: [4:42 PM]
It's Saturday and this is how I'm spending the rest of the afternoon. Coffee, laptop and blasting music. I accidentally spilled a shit ton of sugar in my coffee, but ah well.Spoiler
My playlist, if anyone is interested.
I just had something to eat, I made toast with eggs and served this with rhode island sauce and avocado.Spoiler
Throats with age road ice land sausage and Ava cadors 😍😍👌💦💦 bone app the teeth
I'm so sorry for the horrible title, but I'm very quickly running out of ideas here.
It's been a long time since I wrote a blog last, but this feels like a good time to do so. So much exciting stuff has been happening in the past week aghh I have to share it with y'all. Because, y'know, you're all like a second family to me.
Firstly, my work was chosen to be the official logo for this years County Fair in my town. It features the American Eclipse (coming August 21st) and our town is right on the line where the moon and sun will be crossing paths, for the perfect viewing experience Anyways, here's the logo for that. It'll be on banners, guideline books, and possibly some merch.
And next! (I'm so damn excited about this!!) I was checking out my brother's issue of Game Informer, to find my work had been posted in the fanart section. I sent them my work back in December without high expectations, but I damn near had a heart attack seeing it in there this morning I'm so happy it got picked, to be seen by thousands upon thousands of video game fans across the world! Keep an eye out for the newest issue!
In other related things, I think for now, I'm not going to college for Art, because I feel like I have a pretty good grasp on it, and what I really need to concentrate on is animation and coding, which I'd much rather put my money into to learn things I don't know over things I do. Also! I'm getting a printer soon to do some prints of my work! Which means some sweet, HD prints of my Green Day drawings *wink wink*
And I'm working on sorting out the mess that is the bridge between public schools and homeschoolers. The State Art Symposium is coming up in April, which is the largest art show in my state, providing a wonderful opportunity to get more exposure, hopefully to some art colleges. However... Public schools and homeschoolers hold this ancient grudge against each other, so wedging into it has been tricky. I'm glad my art teacher has been so helpful sorting out all that nonsense, though haha.
For now, that's all that's going on in my world. These days, it's always art related, which I'm fine with, as I now live, breathe, and sleep art.
Are you wondering what this means?
Keep reading this post: you'll discover it soon.
Let's get to the point. I created a secret alphabet.
It has a particular characteristic: every symbol of the alphabet is an intersection between the capital letter and the lowercase letter.
For this reason I decided to call it "Mesoalphabet", being in the middle between the two types.
Now I'm showing you how the letter H is formed:
First, we write down a capital H turned 90° clockwise. Then we intersect it with the lowercase H. A new symbol is formed. Now, we have to delete some parts of the symbol to make it less similar to something related to the H and... Here's our new letter.
This applies to all the letters.
The complete alphabete:
If you are curious about how a letter is formed, don't be afraid to ask.
But now you have all you need, translate the sentence I posted before...
Hope you like it!
There's many ways the write about your first time seeing your favourite band live (Leeds, 05/02/17), an event I've waited for for over half my life. I chose my favourite: rambling, inconsistent poem, filled with references you may or may not get.
cover the streets
in your plastic garb
throw your blankets out
and run inside
rain for cover
like a stampede of unicorns
know your enemy
king sized hopes
and pocket sized regrets
the confetti of the crystal maze
dreams are made
as others crushed
time moves too fast
what are you waiting for?
drunk italians in the night
constant changing colours
to feel warm again
the sleep that evades us all
chasing a new high
wrapped in foil
but still alive
because you're still breathing
shake your fist at escalators
tour the world in your rucksack
live on the road
buses and trains
start another chant
we are the unreleased songs
the unplayed tunes
the stolen tapes
we are the cereal bars in the morning
the doughtnuts in the afternoon
the McDonald's in the middle of the night
we are the waiting
blue hair running up and down
mouth is dry
feet are numb
heroes thanking heroes
all we need
is love and positivity
and another encore
anyway, here's wonderwall
Okay, since @I don't care posted her beautiful lyrics in her blog, I have to hold up my end of the deal and tell you about the Twilight fanfiction me and my best friend wrote a few years ago.
A girl called Mel Ann Choly lives with her father Brock Choly in a small town called Knifes. Her mother Phyll A. Delfia remarried and lives together with the gunslinger René Gade. Mel is deep and very sad and her eyes are tragically beautiful. Whenever she's especially sad she visits the zoo to feed the penguins with Kinder Pingui. Little does she know that these penguins aren't just regular penguins - they'e werepenguins. Every day they turn into humanoids. One of them is Roman Tic, her love interest with oily, shining astral body. He lives in his compound with his parents Ben Evolent and Emme Pathy who adopted him as a wee baby penguin, his brothers Hugh Jabs, who is very strong, and Al Loan, who is a loner, and his sisters Elle Gance, who's a pretty penguin with eyelashes, and Fortuna Teller who knows exactly when the feeding times are. Mel and Roman are star crossed lovers, they simply cannot be. Because beastiality is illegal. Mel's classmate, Fred Zone, is in love with her and very jealous of her destined penguin so he and his friend Barbara "Barbie" Gal make it their mission to make Roman's life hell. Roman becomes fed up with his life and decides to end his life by stealing the infamous Emperor Penguins' (Agatha Power, Mel Efficient and Arro Gance) snacks.
That's not the complete fanfiction but a rough draft of the plot. We did this years ago and it's actually funnier than I make it sound. It got lost on someone's drive years ago and the only thing I had was the names and the .. well, rough plot. I regret telling @I don't care about it in a moment of weakness, I should have known better. Of course she would use it against me.
Fuck you Agnes.
You killed Mufasa and my street cred. RIP in peace.
No, I promise, I didn't get hacked...
I just wanted to put out a little PSA for anyone who has student debt or a mortgage and a smartphone (which, let's be real, is pretty much everyone in the U.S.) about a free app that I've been playing that awards daily cash prizes to pay student loan payments and mortgages. It's called Givling and it's picking up steam. Check out this Business Insider story. You get one free play per day, meaning you can win money every day without paying anything.
If you want to play, join using my invite code and you get a second free play on your first day: AW972977
Currently 10 people are in a funding queue to have $50,000 of their loans paid off. Once those are paid, another 10 will enter the queue, four selected randomly. Queue people can also get $25,000 toward a mortgage if they don't have any student debt. Let me know if you decide to join and what you think of it. Good luck!
Story for a Stranger
On a cool Autumn morning,
I sit in the cafe on the corner
of fifth and Warner,
and have a coffee to begin my day.
Each day I order the same drink,
lightest they have with room for cream
and a sprinkle of sugar.
Each day I’d take the drink
and sit on a stool by the window.
I’d sit, and look through the glass
at people walking their dogs
on the sidewalk.
Each day I’d talk with my friend
who’d stop by on the way
After he left I sat longer still.
Each day I’d sit, and across the street
there’d be a girl.
She sat on her fire escape,
staring out over the world
that lay before her.
Each day, she’d sit out there.
I wasn’t always aware of why,
but often times she’d bring
a notebook to write in.
I wondered often of what she wrote,
what she thought of.
It always seemed impossibly important,
I felt as if she were a performer
cast to glare longingly out over busy city
Some days our eyes meet,
or so I think,
even then she doesn’t seem to notice
me from her perch.
Her eyes search over the cars and heads
of people rushing to god-knows-where
and her slumped shoulders carry
a certain despaired and wary look.
Today, while I finish my coffee in the cafe
I create my own story for her.
She hasn’t written a poem in a while.
Her mind’s been running ‘round in circles
behind a phony smile.
There’s something coming—
whether it’s a remedy, reckoning, or realization—
she doesn't know, but she needs it ‘cause she’s restless
and far-passed reconciliation with herself.
She doesn’t know what’s been at her,
perhaps it’s just a matter of concentration.
Or lack thereof,
it could be the consequence of feeding
a bleeding heart with drugs.
Instead of love
she chooses solitude.
Both in spirit and
in her use of moral platitudes.
It’s this attitude,
this attraction to isolation
but occasional yearning for conversation,
that sets her mind uneasy.
It’s as if two tectonic-plates grating passed
each other were embedded in her head
and she hadn’t the means to escape.
She’s stuck in a slump
she’ll have to break,
she wants to put pen to paper,
she wants to create.
I’ve finished my coffee,
so I set it on my plate.
I suppose that'll be it for today.
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In this post I just want to share my musical highlights of 2016
Song of the year: And then there was silence - Blind Guardian (A Night at the Opera, 2002). No day has passed without I listened to this masterpiece. 14 perfect minutes of music.
Album of the year: Imaginations from the other Side - Blind Guardian (1995) and Litourgyia - Batushka (2015)
Best album released this year: Winter's Gate - Insomnium
Best concert I've been to: Hans Zimmer, hands down. I still shiver every time I think about it. It was so perfect, so great and a dream coming true.
Best festival I've been to: Ragnarök Festival. It was small and cozy and cold (because it was in the beginning of april and I slept in a tent!)
New genres I discovered: Black Metal, Blackgaze, Doom Metal
New bands I discovered: Agalloch, Nargaroth, Nocte Obducta, Swallow the Sun, BATUSHKA!!
Festivals I've been to: Ragnarök Festival, SummerBreeze, Christmas Bash
Concerts I've been to: Hans Zimmer, Brainstorm/Winterstorm, Amon Amarth
Concerts Ive missed again: Sonata Arctica, Behemoth, the Vision Bleack, Van Canto ( )
Highlights of 2017: probably live-album of Blind Guardian, Insomnium Show at Ragnarök festival, NEW WINTERSUN ALBUM!!!
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Having done GDA for 12 years now, it's amazing to think of how different, and similar, things are. GDA feels like a juggernaut compared to other fan sites. We just recently passed 100k followers on Twitter, 226k followers on Facebook. In the past 6 months we've had 1.2 million visits (2.4 million page views).
While things are still pretty good, I can't help but look and wonder how different things could be.
Back in 2004 when I started, before sites like Facebook and Twitter, there were a bunch of small fansites. It was fun competing with each other sites like greenday.net, geekstinkbreath, billiejoe.org, greendayvideos.net, GDUK, to name just a few. It was a race to see who could get news up faster. Who would grow the most, who could offer something new and better to fans. I loved it. I spent nearly all my free time working on GDA. Chatting with people on AIM, then the GDA Chat Room. It felt like a real community.
It's different now that most sites have fallen off, and GDA and GDC have grown so much. I mean, we have more traffic than the official forum (a point that someone on Green Day's team highlighted recently - "we know you guys have the community we wish we did"). The main problem now is that there aren't really any more fansites, so a certain type of competition is gone. There are fan pages on Facebook, fan-related Twitter accounts, fan Tumblrs and Instagrams. The main issue we have at GDA is the speed of getting content out. Even though it's not a lot of work, it's recognizably harder to write up a post and put it on GDA than it is to just copy/paste a headline and link and post on FB or Twitter. I also think there's a much lower threshold of quality that people want on social media.
Much of the last year has felt like trying to play catch-up to a harder medium. I can't help but feel like we're failing on two sides. We take longer to post stuff up AND we don't even get everything posted. Some things come and go and we never get around to it.
Both points were totally valid and we deserved the criticism. I really do appreciate honest and constructive criticism. So I took applications for GDA editors a couple months back but decided to hold off on bringing anyone new on the team. Of course, I was called out then as well for more than likely not promoting someone because I'm stubborn and like to do everything myself. Again, totally valid.
It's hard for me to trust people to do a good job and make sure they don't fuck us over. Yes, I have terrible trust issues and it's leading to GDA being way behind other Green Day related accounts. This year even the official site/social media accounts have stepped it up. It looks like they hired some more people to manage the accounts and they get stuff out first and regularly. Since GDA kind of became the primary fan site, the only real competition I knew we'd have was with the official site stepping it up. And after 10 years, they have.
So now I don't know exactly where to go. We need to do a better job, and I go through phases of being 'Super-Andres' who posts stuff, and works on code, and upgrades GDC, to pretty much disppearing for several days/weeks. I don't know how to balance that out. I get super excited about something and just go till I get burned out, then hide away for a bit till something brings me back around.
12 years in, this whole thing hasn't gotten easier. Different challenges than we had back then, but still challenges none-the-less.
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Last weekend, I took a day trip and during the drive to and from I decided to listen to the Green Day albums in order uninterrupted (save for the event I went to). This was significant for me in many ways. In truth, I have a terrible habit of not listening to anything as an album anymore. After importing all of my CDs to my ipod years back, I seemed to have it on permanent shuffle. Maybe it's just that I'm never going anywhere long enough for an album listen. Anyhow, I really wanted to go on this chronological GD journey and it certainly was enlightening:
1039 Smoothed Out Slappy Hours
- If any album takes a "least favorite" place, it is this one. It felt, in essence, like 19 of the exact same song and I quickly became impatient with it. Now, in theory, I suppose it's hard to judge it like that because although we view this as an album now, it was originally what, three albums? And were only combined after the fact.
- Annoyances aside, listening to this is so funny purely for how drastically Billie's voice has changed. With this and Kerplunk, sometimes you feel like you're listening to another band entirely.
- I expected to feel the same about this one as the first, but I liked it more than I realized.
- I previously would have said that Words I Might Have Ate was my favorite off of this, but I think with this listen Christie Road took that spot very easily.
- I've always had a hard time picking a "favorite album" and I still do. Given their style shifts over 20 years, it's hard to get comparative. But I think if my answer was this album, I would feel confident and satisfied with that.
- Even more difficult is picking a true #1 song. Right now I'm giving it to When I Come Around.
- I used to think some of my least favorite songs were on this album, but I'm not sure that's the case anymore. Of the early albums, this is an easy 2nd placer.
- Holy crap, this one was a shocker for me. I really did not enjoy listening to most of this album and it fell very low on my overall rankings very quickly.
- You can definitely tell it's a sign of style shifts. You've got songs that seem typical and fitting with the previous 2 (Hitchin' A Ride, Nice Guys Finish Last) and then you get the outliers (King For A Day, Walking Alone is indicative of their next steps). I appreciate the experimentation, but I have to say that there are just so many songs on this album that are forgettable to me.
- This one did the opposite of Nimrod for me- songs that I thought were forgettable and uninteresting were much more enjoyable for me this time. The catchiness of the songs is strong in each and that's something I tend to be shamelessly drawn to in music overall.
- I should note here that I followed this up with the three IS songs, and Shenanigans before I moved on to AI.
- I expected to have this album be revitalized by listening to it again. Alas, it did not escape its reputation and, ironically, it fell on my list. We cannot argue that this album was a success, was well done, was/is iconic- to some degree or another. But I found myself listening to this album and being uninspired by 90% of it. I think it's fallen victim to being overplayed for me. JOS will always reign for me emotionally. It seemed to be immune. But Holiday is a good example of a song that gives me no excitement anymore. Each song is radio hit after radio hit and it's completely lost its power for me. JOS, Whatsername and Homecoming remain some of my favorite GD songs ever, but the rest of it, not so much.
21st Century Breakdown
- It will be blasphemous to say, but I enjoyed listening to this more than AI. Part of it is probably the era itself, but even those first few songs are just invigorating.
- I can absolutely admit that its biggest flaw is its length. There's a whole section that I probably could have easily done without. And 21 Guns will remain one of my least favorites of all time...but overall, I quite love this album and I feel that I'm in the minority there. Oh well.
Uno, Dos, Tre
- I should first note that my drive stopped in the middle of Uno and I ended up listening to the rest after the fact so they didn't get the same "in a row" treatment as the rest.
- My opinion remains largely the same with these and in truth I don't think they're worthless. They are good songs. I think when most of us are criticizing them, we're really subconsciously disgruntled with the era and the situation itself. It was a dark time. The songs will probably always have to carry some sort of baggage that way. But there are gems. X-Kid is easily my second favorite song of all time if we're going to continue to give When I Come Around the top spot.
- One thing that is completely successful here is the thematic structure of the three albums. The lighthearted start of the party, the out of control middle, the hangover redemption. They seem to perfectly represent that.
- I like this thing more every time I listen to it. I think it ranks pretty high up there for me. Another blasphemous statement, I suppose.
- I would note that this is purely a representation of the order of which I personally enjoy them as opposed to a true analysis of which albums are better than others musically, commercially, etc.
- 21st Century Breakdown
- Revolution Radio
- American Idiot
- 1039 SOSH
And who knows...this could easily change in another 5-10 years when I realize I need to listen to everything again. Although, hopefully, there will be a lot more albums to add by then so it may be more difficult.
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