tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-40664502870489803342024-03-04T21:54:37.167-08:00Blake XBlake Xhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14474179291529221773noreply@blogger.comBlogger17125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4066450287048980334.post-80136801154944051622023-05-10T21:21:00.008-07:002023-05-10T21:25:34.128-07:00Metal found me – and took me on an unusual path<p></p><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: large;">I’ve been a metalhead for 20 years now, and whenever I ask
others how they discovered the genre, I usually hear one of two stories: Either
they grew up with the music, or they discovered it later in life, but
regardless, they mostly heard the classics first. A delineation of the pioneers
and the greats probably isn’t necessary, but for any non-metalheads reading
this, I’m talking about bands like Black Sabbath, Metallica, Iron Maiden, Pantera,
Judas Priest, Slayer, Dio, and Motorhead. With most people I’ve talked to,
their metal discovery and subsequent journey seemed to follow a similar
pattern.</span></div><span style="font-size: 14pt;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjpci1f2V_JlFO-0hK8dzDnnQJ0VMELtYX0Q7PJs-AgGJbWd9cJ1B3bCliCTohpfUGNwzQ3dSvDhAWaYEH0Wcem7eOqwEXzpw8VHIXaM8uAN3u6RmTluTxo2q4WfgSH2rXkRCEzb2dxOUeeuhS9YDRJDqbnJt-fZgh9nknoxlgZGQRVyCiQ4bMbNrdkpw/s1440/WithLacunaCoil.jpg" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1080" data-original-width="1440" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjpci1f2V_JlFO-0hK8dzDnnQJ0VMELtYX0Q7PJs-AgGJbWd9cJ1B3bCliCTohpfUGNwzQ3dSvDhAWaYEH0Wcem7eOqwEXzpw8VHIXaM8uAN3u6RmTluTxo2q4WfgSH2rXkRCEzb2dxOUeeuhS9YDRJDqbnJt-fZgh9nknoxlgZGQRVyCiQ4bMbNrdkpw/s320/WithLacunaCoil.jpg" width="320" /></a></div></span><p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;"><span style="line-height: 120%;"><span style="font-size: large;">My path was a bit different. I can say that I first discovered
metal, in the technical sense, at the age of 13. At the time, I was living in
New Jersey and using a big, chunky Dell computer that ran an ancient operating
system called Windows Me (short for ‘Millennium Edition’). I was using dial-up
internet, Ask Jeeves was my search engine of choice, and I spent my time
learning basic HTML code and waiting hours to download a single episode of <i>Dragon
Ball Z.</i> I started frequenting a now-defunct website called TV Tome, where I
would follow various anime shows, and I made a few online friends. That led me
to transition with them to a series of do-it-yourself forums collectively
called ProBoards. (I checked and, at the time of writing, it still exists!)</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="line-height: 120%;"><span style="font-size: large;">I made one friend on these forums in particular who was very
much into nu metal. I didn’t know what on earth he was talking about at the
time, so he told me to think of it as “very hard rock.” He would often talk
about bands like Linkin Park, Deftones, and Adema, and lament the fact that no
one else shared his interest. I was later introduced to another forum-goer who
was absolutely fanatical about Iron Maiden. At the time, my interests lay in
anime, manga, and fantasy novels, and I neither knew nor cared what these
people were talking about. The following year, that would change.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="line-height: 120%;"><span style="font-size: large;">By the time I was 14, I had moved elsewhere in New Jersey – northward,
back to my hometown. There I made my first close friend. We got along very
well, bonding over our shared interest in comic books and artwork. Eventually,
he started name-dropping Slipknot and Mudvayne. “What?” I asked, utterly
confused and only vaguely interested. “Yeah,” he said. “They’re bands. It’s nu
metal.” “Ah.” I remembered that term from my online friend, but he had never
mentioned those particular bands. The subject would not arise again until a few
weeks later, when I met my friend’s older brother. I don’t exactly remember now
whether it was the friend or the brother who put the headphones over my ears, but
they said, “Here. It’s Slipknot. Listen to this.”</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="line-height: 120%;"><span style="font-size: large;">Because it came as an absolute culture shock to me at the time, I
can’t remember exactly which song it was that I heard, but I’m ninety-nine
percent sure it was “Eyeless,” off their self-titled album. Suffice it to say I
was blown away. I had never heard anything that sounded remotely like that. I
was struck by how loud and wild it sounded to me, it had a rhythm that I immediately
latched onto – at a time when I could barely comprehend what rhythm was (I didn’t
spend my childhood listening to much music by choice) – and I was also a little
bit uncertain. It wasn’t that I disliked it (quite the opposite), it was that
it was so new to me and my mind was reeling, trying to process what I was
experiencing. He also played a Mudvayne song for me right afterward, but I don’t
remember anything about it. I think I was still so focused on the Slipknot song,
trying to figure out <i>what the hell that was.</i></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="line-height: 120%;"><span style="font-size: large;">Days later, another close friend of mine – may he rest in peace –
was beginning his own journey. “Oh, you’ve never heard System of a Down before?”
he asked eagerly. I’ll never forget that day. Together we went to a pizza
place/internet café, and for the first time ever I discovered this thing called
Limewire. Also, I used one of the webcams there to take my first-ever “selfie”
(I still hate that word), and put it up on my new MySpace page. Before long, my
friend’s little AAA battery-powered Coby mp3 player had songs on it from System
of a Down, Slipknot, Linkin Park, and a few other artists (I think there was an
Otep song on there, and something by Kittie as well). I listened to several
songs by multiple artists that day, and it was at that point that I decided – I
was a fan of Slipknot and Linkin Park.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"></p><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: large;">You may think that, so far, this is not too unusual of a path
for someone discovering metal in the early 2000s. Of course nu metal would be
the first thing I hear, it was dominating back then. Just give it time, the
path soon takes a weird turn. Anyway, at this point, I knew what I wanted (more
metal!) and how to get it – at the local library, of all places. I started
borrowing CDs from there – amongst my first picks were Linkin Park’s <i>Hybrid
Theory</i> and <i>Meteora</i>, Slipknot’s self-titled and <i>Vol. 3 </i>(which
I think had just come out at the time), and a couple metalcore jams – though I
didn’t know it at the time; namely, Shadows Fall’s <i>The War Within</i> and Killswitch
Engage’s <i>The End of Heartache.</i> (Note: At this point I had already heard
Killswitch on MySpace – remember those little music players on people’s
profiles?) I also picked up <i>Headbangers Ball Vol. 2</i>, a compilation
album.</span></div><span style="font-family: "EB Garamond"; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 120%;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZUgK5OeS-M6ZtSs2qfd8WcXJFU8x7AE_wzX0iBPEXTl9JhyzFQfc4Uch_ZOmp2Hc5J5vuvVp1dmJPwCDFv7nTxHmjKrwODsfiK0y9Sx5rFWZB_uTZjqEucFirHo0nHUzu86W6k8jrAiKAaMBEpTBrPsY-uuLsmRtFo7CqWHJIScJ4jp4BZD3FfTpg0g/s3268/IMG_20161208_184407_2.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2444" data-original-width="3268" height="239" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZUgK5OeS-M6ZtSs2qfd8WcXJFU8x7AE_wzX0iBPEXTl9JhyzFQfc4Uch_ZOmp2Hc5J5vuvVp1dmJPwCDFv7nTxHmjKrwODsfiK0y9Sx5rFWZB_uTZjqEucFirHo0nHUzu86W6k8jrAiKAaMBEpTBrPsY-uuLsmRtFo7CqWHJIScJ4jp4BZD3FfTpg0g/s320/IMG_20161208_184407_2.jpg" width="320" /></a></div></span><p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;"><span style="line-height: 120%;"><span style="font-size: large;">I was spinning these albums day and night, and when I wasn’t
doing that, I was listening to a metal radio station I had just found – 89.5
WSOU, a college radio station broadcast from Seton Hall University in South
Orange, New Jersey. It had a bit of a weak signal, but it was worth it to hear “Dragula”
by Rob Zombie and “The Beautiful People” by Marilyn Manson for the very first
time. I was officially engrossed in metal at this point, and though I couldn’t
yet discern genre differences, my taste was mostly dominated by nu metal and
metalcore. Before long, that would change.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="line-height: 120%;"><span style="font-size: large;">To this day I’m not sure which came first, but I heard Satyricon’s
“Fuel for Hatred” and Cradle of Filth’s “Gilded Cunt,” both around the same
time. The former, from <i>Headbangers Ball Vol. 2</i>, and the latter,
downloaded from a little place called Limewire. The very next song I heard was “Medusa
and Hemlock,” also by Cradle. Then I heard something by Dimmu Borgir. Several
weeks later, I had learned that these bands and songs were examples of “extreme
metal,” and at the time, I thought it was all something called “black metal”
(even though, apart from Satyricon, I had not discovered true black metal quite
yet). This led to me finding black metal’s gutteral, gore-obsessed neighbor,
death metal. <i>Cannibal Corpse. Dying Fetus. Deicide. Holy shit!</i></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="line-height: 120%;"><span style="font-size: large;">My mind was exploding with dopamine on a daily basis as I delved
more deeply into the most brutal, extreme sounding metal I could get my hands
on. Before long, a friend bought me my first physical metal albums at an FYE in
a local mall. I remember exactly what I grabbed: <i>Nymphetamine </i>and <i>Thornography</i>
by Cradle. <i>The Scars of Redemption</i> by Deicide. <i>Dechristianize </i>by
Vital Remains. <i>Puritanical Euphoric Misanthropia </i>and <i>Godless Savage
Garden</i> by Dimmu Borgir. And another compilation album called <i>Headbangers
Ball: The Revenge</i>. You’d best believe I was blasting it in this
(non-metalhead) friend’s car, driving him crazy.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="line-height: 120%;"><span style="font-size: large;">You see, this is where my path took a more unique turn. I had
gone from entry-level nu metal and popular metalcore right into starter pack ‘extreme
metal’ and Satanic death metal. Not one to sit back and be satisfied with just
a few new artists, it was only a matter of a week or two afterward that I
finally sank my teeth into genuine black metal. Immortal, Emperor, Mayhem,
Bathory, and even a few lesser-known artists like Urgehal and Melechesh. Around
this time I bought my second band shirt ever – Dark Funeral (the first had been
Linkin Park, one year prior).</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="line-height: 120%;"><span style="font-size: large;">But here’s the thing: I skipped right over all the classics. By
this time, I had heard a couple of Pantera songs (I remember “Psycho Holiday”
was my first from them). I had heard a few Metallica songs. I probably heard a
Black Sabbath or Iron Maiden song already without even knowing it at the time.
But I had not, by choice, delved into the old greats, simply because I thought
it was “old” and “less extreme” than this other, seemingly more awesome thing
that I had discovered. Typical teenage way of thinking. And I had not yet
become a metal connoisseur; I simply wanted whatever I thought was the most
extreme and brutal and punishing.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="line-height: 120%;"><span style="font-size: large;">Whenever I thought I had hit a boundary, I wanted to break it
and go even further. I spotted other metalheads wearing Dark Funeral and
Emperor shirts, so I decided to delve into the underground of the underground,
and picked up a shirt for the black metal band Typhus; on the back it read, “Fuck
Your God.” I loved that it got such a rise out of people; at this point I was
living to be extreme, to incite and to provoke. I didn’t yet have the mature
understandings of both music and my religion (Satanism) that I would gain when
I transitioned into my 20s. All I knew was that this all felt like a giant
middle finger to Christianity, to the status quo, and to the nowhere-dead-end
town I felt trapped in, and I loved the feelings all that evoked within me.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="line-height: 120%;"><span style="font-size: large;">I wouldn’t actually sit down and properly listen to classic heavy
metal until my mid-20s, once I had calmed down a bit and begun truly
appreciating metal – black metal included – for the music itself, rather than
try and use music to give myself some sense of identity or feeling of
rebellion. I had put my adolescence behind me and become a mature, more
sophisticated lover of metal. So I continued to explore all the black metal I
could find – a friend of mine was amazed at the time by the sheer amount of the
genre I had in my iTunes library; I introduced him to Xasthur and Anaal
Nathrakh, amongst so many, many others. But I was also sitting down and
exploring, with attentive enthusiasm, albums from Black Sabbath, Judas Priest,
Slayer, and Pantera.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"></p><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: large;">When I had turned 20, I moved to Chicago to live with a
roommate. Prior to this, I was living in a very uncomfortable situation, having
just gotten out of a homeless shelter and now living in a studio apartment with
my mother; it was basically a converted motel room with no windows and a
cockroach infestation. I was more than happy to leave those horrible living
conditions behind, and I finally had my own room – my own private space to
decorate with band posters, something I had missed out on during my teenage
years. More importantly, I had my own time and space to explore music to my
heart’s content, and I really did explore. I started using Last.fm, I checked
out Metal Archives for the very first time, and I discovered bands that would
grow to become absolute favorites (Agalloch and Lacuna Coil, amongst others).</span></div><span style="font-family: "EB Garamond"; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 120%;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgRiOPXCbZAHYg0MhR7_8LKnQslQYepbsidCWSXsg3LeZvRt0vYy73RNOoc0CxbWbifotv8rAPNSJ2ZEAqhE8wu5Ns59tMuf7BYNfDEnxYdYiCJIZyFFQ5PCSEae01uRpohV-w4hjjPp1J4F_aUqtn2nLtroucyjwCECDU5goXXpt865r1-T4IT8EIsjg/s666/Oldphotos2.jpg" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="420" data-original-width="666" height="202" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgRiOPXCbZAHYg0MhR7_8LKnQslQYepbsidCWSXsg3LeZvRt0vYy73RNOoc0CxbWbifotv8rAPNSJ2ZEAqhE8wu5Ns59tMuf7BYNfDEnxYdYiCJIZyFFQ5PCSEae01uRpohV-w4hjjPp1J4F_aUqtn2nLtroucyjwCECDU5goXXpt865r1-T4IT8EIsjg/s320/Oldphotos2.jpg" width="320" /></a></div></span><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;"><span style="line-height: 120%;"><span style="font-size: large;">I may not have had the path that so many of my fellow metalheads
seemed to have taken – with ‘extreme metal’ being the very last thing they were
exposed to, after all the other subgenres; in some cases, they never discovered
or delved into black or death metal at all. For me, I’m glad that my journey
played out the way that it did. I can be a bit stubborn or overly cautious when
it comes to trying new things, and I don’t know that I would have felt the urge
to listen to black metal if I had not discovered it unintentionally at a
younger age, and if it had not left such an enormous impression upon me.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="line-height: 120%;"><span style="font-size: large;">These days I listen to just about everything. Sure, there are
some genres and artists that I simply cannot get into (I will never be a fan of
Ghost, Rammstein, or Korn, and I do <i>not</i> apologize for it). But I listen
to everything from black metal to sludge metal to folk metal to deathcore. I
sometimes listen to classical music. Hell, I’ll even listen to the occasional
pop punk or rap. Since 2019, I’ve run a reaction channel on YouTube, and being
introduced to so much more music (in metal and beyond), it has certainly helped
stoke the fire that was first ignited at the impressionable age of 14. Since
then, I haven’t looked back.</span><span style="font-size: 14pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></p>Blake Xhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14474179291529221773noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4066450287048980334.post-43050274648058827022023-04-21T18:47:00.005-07:002023-04-21T18:48:11.311-07:00The Devils In Your Details - Revised Introduction 4/21/23<p> <i>The article that follows is the Introduction section of my upcoming book, The Devils In Your Details. This is a revised version. More chapters and excerpts are coming soon.</i></p><p></p><p align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><u><span style="font-family: "EB Garamond"; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 120%;">Introduction</span></u><span style="font-family: "EB Garamond"; font-size: 14pt;"> </span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="tab-stops: 13.5pt .25in; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "EB Garamond"; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 120%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>The
most noteworthy thing about this book may be the unexceptional status of its
author. Unlike writers who publish self-aggrandizing verbiage and trust in
their fame to draw in readers, I’m neither a rock star nor a celebrity. I don’t
hold any degrees in psychology or philosophy. I fully expect this book to be
self-published and selling in numbers that fall short of the double digits.
That one positive review you might see online would likely be written by one of
my friends.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="tab-stops: 13.5pt .25in; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "EB Garamond"; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 120%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>There’s
a simple aphorism, however, that merits this book’s existence: Writers write.
In fact, when they <i>don’t</i> write, they get up to all sorts of
self-destructive distractions. On the other hand, the reason behind this book
is rooted in the outgrowth of a previous project I was involved with – a
YouTube channel. Though the channel primarily focused on reactions to – and
reviews of – metal and other music, somewhere along the way I began to discuss
the meanings of the songs I would analyze, and that led to musings about life
and how best to live it. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="tab-stops: 13.5pt .25in; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "EB Garamond"; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 120%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Eventually,
a few people commented with suggestions that I write a self-help book.
Personally, I’ve always taken issue with that terminology; as the late great
George Carlin once said, “If you’re looking for self-help, why would you read a
book written by somebody else? That’s not self-help – that’s help.” And yet,
proper nomenclature aside, I took the advice to heart.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="tab-stops: 13.5pt .25in; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "EB Garamond"; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 120%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Ultimately,
I wanted to craft something deeper than a simple “help” book. I wanted it to be
equal parts advice and introspection. I knew that the latter of those two
things must be driven by a certain humility, which I must demonstrate by
admitting that even as I seek to advise and inspire others, I still have so
much more to learn, as well. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="tab-stops: 13.5pt .25in; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "EB Garamond"; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 120%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>I
realized that I had a multitude of philosophical thoughts and feelings on life
and this world we live in, which I wanted to condense into something
comprehensive; something centered around my personal outlook, yet with enough
objectivity to balance the anecdotal and the tangential with the rational and
the relatable. I wanted to write a book that would provide someone reading it
with an actionable understanding of the world and society, albeit filtered
through my own lens of moderate life experience and background.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="tab-stops: 13.5pt .25in; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "EB Garamond"; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 120%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>I
believe that there are two ways in which we process the passage of time in
relation to our own wellbeing: we strive continuously to better ourselves and
our lives, or we go passively through the motions, only ever engaging in what’s
fleeting, easy, and gratifying. I’d like to embody the first example – and I
sometimes do – but I fall victim to the habits of the second all too often. We
all do. Those two ways of being, after all, do not represent a dichotomy, and
we operate in either category at various moments in our lives. But damn it, we
would like to strive to do and be better, wouldn’t we? Actually, many would
answer that question with a resounding, “no,” or perhaps they would outwardly
say “yes,” but it would be a lie.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="tab-stops: 13.5pt .25in; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "EB Garamond"; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 120%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>We
live in a time where people generally want what’s easy and temporary, rather
than what’s difficult and lasting. People of power, wealth, and influence have
long since caught on to this chink in the armor of human nature, and have
capitalized on it with ensorcelling methods, particularly the apparatus of
social media. This was yet another motivating factor in my decision to write
this book. I want to properly elucidate how and why striving for a better life
and a better self is so important, and I’m asking you to take that journey, page
by page, with me. If you’ll forgive a bit of autobiographical self-indulgence,
you’ll find that it’s tempered with demure introspection, humor, and insight
that can be of benefit to myself as much as anyone else. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="tab-stops: 13.5pt .25in; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "EB Garamond"; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 120%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>From
Carl Jung to comic books, Satanism to ‘Seitanism,’ and moral relativism to
mimosas, I take no offense if this book is seen as a back-alley, discount
version of your favorite <i>New York Times </i>bestseller, yet if it also
proves to be a veritable bible for the alternative, countercultural layman,
then my work will have proven to be of some consequence. It all comes down to
what my words mean to you. I know what they mean to me – at least, I think I
do. Somehow, I often find that when I put my views down on paper, I discover
things about myself to which I was previously ignorant. That’s a large part of
what this book is about: taking full accountability for oneself. Personal
identity is a burgeoning efflorescence; a garden never quite fully cultivated,
as there is always another seedling waiting to be hatched.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="tab-stops: 13.5pt .25in; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "EB Garamond"; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 120%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>If
this abundance of words seems intimidating – or, for that matter, pretentious –
rest assured that I never set out to write something bogged down by lecturing,
riddled with personal agendas, or defined by self-righteous finger wagging. I
want the views and ideas that follow to be challenged with careful reflection
and consideration, counterbalanced by the personal views and understandings of
each individual reader, and concluding with the affirmation that I’m not
perfect and I don’t have all the answers. Like all of us, I’m just muddling
through.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="tab-stops: 13.5pt .25in; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "EB Garamond"; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 120%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>I
don’t want to sell you my version of life, nor would I want to encourage anyone
to emulate my views or behavior just for the hell of it. Align yourself with
what you read here only if it makes sense to you, and just as importantly,
continue to press on even when some of my statements or opinions raise your
hackles or set you on the backs of your heels. Question and examine that
resistance, there might be some important lessons behind that feeling.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="tab-stops: 13.5pt .25in; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "EB Garamond"; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 120%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Even
as I write this, I have to address the possibility that, rather than be caught
up in a whirlwind of thoughts and emotions, you may still be wondering why you
should feel or contemplate anything in regard to what I have to say. Bereft of
college degrees, lofty titles, or endorsement quotes on this book’s back cover,
it’s easy to dismiss the words I put forward here. We’ve been trained to
believe that celebrity, academia, and politics are the primary parameters
within which knowledge and wisdom ought to be espoused in written form. Yet
many members of each of these categories may be cloistered by their own myopia,
unable to see beyond the blinders of their own cliques and echo chambers.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="tab-stops: 13.5pt .25in; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "EB Garamond"; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 120%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Let’s
not forget that for every Keith Richards, Richard Branson, Richard Dawkins,
Obama, or Oprah, there’s someone out there with a name and face you don’t know
who has a story to tell. It might be the homeless veteran on the street corner
asking for change, or the man quietly birdwatching in the park. It could be the
captain on your flight, or the woman cutting your hair. It could be the person
you see looking back at you in the mirror, and that’s probably the best place
to start. Everyone has a backstory, but few have the ability to tell it to a
broad audience. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="tab-stops: 13.5pt .25in; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "EB Garamond"; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 120%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Well,
I’m no entrepreneur or television personality. I’ve been a pedestrian and a
passerby; a peasant with an empty wallet, a sense of style, and strength of
character, and I also just happen to be a writer. Why not direct such a talent
toward a singular goal that has benefits not only for my own personal
evolution, but that of others?<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="tab-stops: 13.5pt .25in; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "EB Garamond"; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 120%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>So,
I’m going to tell my story. If there’s some rule barring autobiographers who
don’t fit a certain economic bracket, I’m breaking it. If the follower count on
my social media platforms doesn’t justify my worth in the eyes of people who
count such things on an imaginary abacus and sit in judgment, <i>tough shit</i>.
<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="tab-stops: 13.5pt .25in; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "EB Garamond"; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 120%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>As
I swivel about in my office chair, looking in turns at my cat for moral support
and my posters of Lemmy Kilmister and Cristina Scabbia for inspiration, I find
myself recalling a moment that underscores the very point I was trying to make.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="tab-stops: 13.5pt .25in; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "EB Garamond"; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 120%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>It
happened back in 2007. I was waiting for a bus on Union Valley Road, in the
town of West Milford, New Jersey. The bus shelter I sat in was small and
innocuous, and it was a Saturday, so one could expect it to be frequented by
bored teenagers en route to the local mall, and older New York transplants
ready to begin their commute to work. It was rainy and rather late in the day,
so it was occupied by neither. I myself was on the way to visit some friends
back in my hometown.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="tab-stops: 13.5pt .25in; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "EB Garamond"; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 120%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Within
minutes, a highly eccentric looking older man approached, having exited the
nearby doughnut shop with his coffee in one hand. In his other was one of the
most interesting canes I had ever seen. Its handle was shaped and painted to
look like the head of some kind of bird, and there was some kind of floral
print on its staff. The whole thing was colored a rich cherry mahogany. The man
wasn’t so much leaning on it for support as he was letting the beak of the bird
head rest on his wrist, so that the cane swung pendulously as he made his way
to the bus shelter to sit down.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="tab-stops: 13.5pt .25in; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "EB Garamond"; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 120%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Of
the man’s physical appearance I don’t remember much, other than mid-length
white hair and a bedraggled beard, and clothing that seemed new and well cared
for. He also wore glasses with thick rims and yellow-tinted lenses; they rather
reminded me of something Jeff Goldblum would have rocked back in the 90s. You
can imagine how unexpected this all might seem in the “downtown” area of a middle-class
New Jersey exurb at one o’clock in the afternoon, especially when he looked
nothing like the average person you’d see in such a place at <i>any</i> time of
day.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="tab-stops: 13.5pt .25in; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "EB Garamond"; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 120%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>I
do recall that he wore a backpack adorned with various stickers and patches
that seemed to represent a collection of travel souvenirs, bearing the names of
different cities, states, countries, and attractions. I remember seeing
Georgia, Montana, Niagara Falls, some kind of national park that seemed to be
in a country below the equator (Los something or other), and some other place
that I knew at the time was in the UK but which I now no longer remember. There
were plenty of others that also evade my memory.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="tab-stops: 13.5pt .25in; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "EB Garamond"; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 120%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>After
a few sips of coffee, he set the backpack on the ground at his feet, pulled
from its main compartment a book whose name eludes me (though the hardcover
tome was old, thick, and weatherworn), and began reading. He spared not so much
as a glance in the direction of the eighteen-year-old goth/metalhead staring at
him with total bemusement. I myself looked anything but average at the time,
with my hair dyed white with silver-tipped bangs, black eyeliner, and large
black-and-red pants inlaid with chains and studs. I chalk it up to my ego at
the time, but looking back, I think I was insulted that, for once, I wasn’t the
center of shock and attention.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="tab-stops: 13.5pt .25in; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "EB Garamond"; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 120%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Eventually,
bus 197 arrived and I boarded. As I took my seat and glanced out the window, I
came to a surprising realization: the old man hadn’t gotten on the bus. That
was the last I saw of him, as he continued to read his book while the only bus
in town took off to its next destination. Somehow, that made him even more
mysterious and fascinating in my mind. Why would such a man, clearly an
out-of-towner, enter a bus shelter with no intent of going anywhere? Especially
someone as clearly well traveled as his backpack indicated? Perhaps he was
merely looking for someplace to sit and read, and the bus shelter provided the
only reprieve from the spritzing rain. That seems the most likely explanation,
yet as I sat aboard the 197 on the way to the next town, I don’t think I
considered it. I was too intrigued by how starkly different that man had
seemed, at a time when I respected and admired eccentricity and exceptionalism.
(I still do.)<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="tab-stops: 13.5pt .25in; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "EB Garamond"; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 120%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Through
the onset of gathering clouds and the beating of raindrops against the bus
window, one thing pierced the overcast backdrop to my journey and became
abundantly clear: that man had stories to tell.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="tab-stops: 13.5pt .25in; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "EB Garamond"; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 120%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>As
do I.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="tab-stops: 13.5pt .25in; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "EB Garamond"; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 120%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>I
want this to be more than the culmination of my travels and experiences,
however. I want this to provide the impetus for your <i>own</i> journeys –
particularly your internal ones; those that take place in the psyche and the
spirit. I want to set you on a path where you feel glory, not shame, in looking
into a mirror and spending a few moments admiring the contours of your face or
the luster of your hair. Where you are self-confident enough to cast aside your
machismo in the face of a hurtful situation and muster the courage to tell a
person they hurt your feelings. Where you stand with a collective only when you
know why and for what purpose, rather than because you’ve been told it’s
“correct” or that everyone else is doing it.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="tab-stops: 13.5pt .25in; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "EB Garamond"; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 120%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>A
path where you use one hand to welcome and embrace someone who treats you with
love and encouragement, yet reserve your other, to be raised in firm opposition
when people seek to assault your mental and spiritual wellness, or compound
your insecurities with admonishments or backhanded compliments. Where picking
yourself up when you fall is a frequent and welcomed responsibility, not a
desperate last resort associated with being at rock bottom. Where you replace
poor self-esteem with unconditional self-love, not thinly veiled narcissism.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="tab-stops: 13.5pt .25in; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "EB Garamond"; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 120%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Yes,
the prose can get a bit grandiose at times. Again, I will err on the side of
relatability, not pomposity. I won’t make the case for any self or life
improvement “just because.” I’ll provide real stories, examples, and fair and
balanced rationales as to why it’s so important. This book isn’t intended to be
dogmatic, but rather, pragmatic. The idea that life is something that one can
immediately and extraordinarily rewrite and reshape is one rooted in
romanticization and hubris. The idea that one can take steps to make
substantial and valuable differences in one’s life is, on the other hand,
practical.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="tab-stops: 13.5pt .25in; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "EB Garamond"; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 120%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>I
can assure you that I hold myself to my own set of high standards, and any
personal advice that follows will reflect those values. This also means that
I’ll be dispensing with any impropriety when it comes to my personal stories
and accounts. So, while everything I have to say here will be as honest and
committed to memory as I can make it, the names of people will be changed in
order to protect their privacy. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="tab-stops: 13.5pt .25in; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "EB Garamond"; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 120%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>As
reassurance for anyone with doubts, I’ll detail my interactions with such
people in a way that aims to communicate life lessons and nuggets of wisdom,
not to tarnish reputations, drag folks from my past through the mud, or
resurrect petty vendettas that were put to bed long ago. It’s my intent that
any stories shared in this book prove truthful and constructive, not malicious
or libelous, and it’s my sincerest hope that any shades of subjectivity that
may color such anecdotes are seen for what they are, and not cast in a negative
light by anyone reading this who might take umbrage with certain portrayals or
characterizations.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="tab-stops: 13.5pt .25in; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "EB Garamond"; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 120%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>And
of course, not all of my stories will be summaries of bad circumstances, bad
people, or bad things. It just so happens that I believe a bad time reinforces
personal growth, whereas a few too many good times navigate circuitously around
such growth. This isn’t always the case, but wherever lessons were learned and
moments of development were seized and valued, there are stories to be told. Even
in dark times. After all, any writer worth his salt knows that conflict makes
for good stories, and this holds just as true for non-fiction.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="tab-stops: 13.5pt .25in; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "EB Garamond"; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 120%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>There
will, however, be a great deal of space given over to positive and
life-building experiences, and to tie it all together, a conclusion reached as
to why the good, bad, and morally gray all play a role in shaping and informing
who we are, and how coming to terms with these things can send us on a destiny
run toward who we have the potential to be.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="tab-stops: 13.5pt .25in; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "EB Garamond"; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 120%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>You
may know about the Chinese military treatise <i>The Art of War</i>. Unlike its
author Sun Tzu, I’m only a writer and not a fighter, but I’m here to tell you
that self-empowerment is an art of its very own, much as is writing itself.
Artists bear the exhilarating burden of being both Dr. Frankenstein and the
monster. We create and recreate new versions of ourselves each time we take
steps to grow and evolve, but we often grapple with the very personal demons
that we ourselves contrive. The silver lining to this hard truth is that we
have the potential to control, and – if necessary – rein in the versions of
ourselves that we create. We can revel in the beast we unleash from within, or,
as the doctor did in the story of <i>Frankenstein</i>, we can retreat into Mont
Blanc out of shame and fear, unwilling to accept our true selves. Both the
power and the burden lie simultaneously within us.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="tab-stops: 13.5pt .25in; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "EB Garamond"; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 120%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>I’ll
conclude by stating that it’s my purest and paramount hope that people read
this book, despite the obscurity of its author. It’s my understanding that the
value of life must not solely be expressed in quantities of money, popularity,
or influence, but rather, fundamental understanding, knowledge, wisdom, and
feeling. Discussion of life should include those voices that exist on the
margins of main stages and bright spotlights, and on the side streets and
alleys, where perhaps names and accomplishments are less widely known, but are
sometimes equally significant to those in the top one percent of society.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="tab-stops: 13.5pt .25in; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "EB Garamond"; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 120%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>The
steps to strength and success, after all, are built neither in lofty towers of
wealth and greed, nor in bitter basements where visions are never shared,
feelings are never expressed, and ideals are never strived for. As with most
things in life, the tone of empowerment is struck not on polarized ends of a
spectrum, but somewhere in between.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="tab-stops: 13.5pt .25in; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "EB Garamond"; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 120%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>You
must ask yourself, however, if you prefer the illusion of power, or the true
power that dwells within oneself, waiting to be stirred up in a hurricane-like
fury and brought to the surface, made manifest in all its fearsome glory. If
you’re searching for the former, you may set this book aside and resume your
addiction to the fickle, inconsequential chump change offered by social media.
If you seek the latter, keep on reading.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="tab-stops: 13.5pt .25in; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "EB Garamond"; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 120%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>To
borrow and utterly alter a quote from Mary Shelley’s <i>Frankenstein</i>, “We
ought to seek happiness in tranquility, but never, ever avoid ambition.”</span></p><p></p>Blake Xhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14474179291529221773noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4066450287048980334.post-83250416448407422132022-05-31T19:17:00.003-07:002022-05-31T19:18:29.875-07:00Quick, lazy, online sayings that just don't cut it (book excerpt)<p> <i>The text that follows is an excerpt from my upcoming new book, <b>The Devils In Your Details</b>. This is from a chapter that deals with increasingly popular, but ultimately ineffectual, sayings and platitudes that we see in particular on social media.</i></p><p><b><span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif;">“You’ve got
this.”</span></b></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><b><span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span></span></b><span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif;">I used to say this all the time, primarily in comments on
social media posts. Whenever a friend would publish a status update pertaining
to a particular struggle they were going through, part of my reply would almost
always contain those three words, and I wasn't the only one who had a penchant
for defaulting to this platitude. In fact the usage of “you’ve got this” was so
prevalent on Facebook especially that the site would instantly convert the text
into a boldened deep purple after it was typed (I just checked and as of May 31,
2022 that’s still the case).</span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg1HBrFFAHguzjoBtoK6Qij2FTYDmo1hikJfMTVP5EgFyxmtgP7811ZCjTdbzSOxPSdB_It_x7uH9d1Qj4YyNVCxIGe1prfxp8X5nJ7JMg0dclO6UGcXs30oMiaiO-WIB8QTR7DcSW0IV_QUz3kV3sRHk2CsawX72LCUq5Lt9-mimxjgQXssYFOX3UD8g/s720/Youve-got-this.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="712" data-original-width="720" height="316" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg1HBrFFAHguzjoBtoK6Qij2FTYDmo1hikJfMTVP5EgFyxmtgP7811ZCjTdbzSOxPSdB_It_x7uH9d1Qj4YyNVCxIGe1prfxp8X5nJ7JMg0dclO6UGcXs30oMiaiO-WIB8QTR7DcSW0IV_QUz3kV3sRHk2CsawX72LCUq5Lt9-mimxjgQXssYFOX3UD8g/s320/Youve-got-this.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>So what’s wrong with this statement?
At first glance it may seem like a genuine attempt to boost hope and confidence
on the part of the person having the ordeal; it certainly often results in
fervid thank yous and several prompt “likes.” However, as with so many readily
available sayings that are just a few keystrokes away, its true nature tends to
err on the side of shallowness. At best it’s probably a ready-made, simplistic response
on your part, meant to assuage potential guilt over otherwise not displaying
concern over your friend’s plight. At worst it could be an attempt to publicly
choreograph strong moral character on your part to those reading your comment –
including your friend – whether that’s rooted in legitimacy or not (this is
often called virtue signaling).<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Regardless of whether the former
example or the latter is the true impetus behind the statement – or whether it
truly does stem from a feeling of genuine care – the problem with “you’ve got
this” is that it’s lazy, it’s ineffectual in directly communicating emotive
ideation, and sometimes it’s dishonest (whether purposefully or incidentally). <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif;">What
if “you’ve got this” simply doesn’t apply to the person in question? If they
have an illness for which they need medical help, then the onus is on far more
than them alone to resolve that matter, and thus your platitude is a negligent generalization.
If they’re dealing with a mental health issue to such an extent that they are
no longer psychologically capable of taking care of themselves, then NO, they
certainly haven’t “got this,” and their rehabilitation would be in the hands of
professionals equipped to deal with the matter.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif;">Perhaps
it’s not yet so easy to see from these examples how quickly a complacent or
disingenuous remark online can lead to a negative outcome – absolutely for you,
and potentially for the person to whom you replied, depending on how seriously they
assessed your comment and to what degree they took your words to heart. I’ve
said these words time and again, willfully blind to the latent irresponsibility
in them, and to the reasoning behind saying it. For me, it really did come from
a place of genuine care and concern, but only to the extent that it didn’t
occupy too much of my time and emotional energy. The fact that people have so
much going on in their own lives, so much pain of their own to grapple with, that
they sometimes cannot help others (and often don’t want to) beyond the
utterance of a few comforting words is deeply saddening, and perfectly
understandable.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif;">It's
better then to say nothing at all, or only that which is honest. It’s even
better yet to display your concern and communicate your emotion through
behavior and action, but short of that, any words you deliver to someone have powerful,
immutable meaning with the potential to have an effect on the person who sees
or hears them, and that effect won’t be contingent upon your reasoning for resorting
to quick and easy prosaicisms, when you could have said something deeper, more
meaningful, and – if necessary – constructively combative. Alas, the damage
will already have been done.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif;">This
will prove important not only in the context of maintaining an honorable set of
standards to which you hold yourself, but especially in regard to the nature of
your interpersonal relationships. If you readily fall back on the easiest and
most conveniently dismissive language in your social interactions, you trade
honesty for passivity. You sacrifice an outward articulation of compassion for
a pretense of emotional inertia.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif;">Friendships
are not easy, nor should they be. Problems that arise in the life of a friend
to whom you have committed some of your life and being to must be treated conscientiously
and attentively whenever possible. It may be that the best response isn’t “you’ve
got this,” and 99 times out of 100 that’s probably true. If a friend made a
status update about how their life is falling apart; how their car was stolen
and their pet is deathly sick and they’ve got a nasty infection, then perhaps
you should invest the time and language to inquire as to how they’ll resolve
these problems. It might be much more useful to draw upon your own empathy to communicate
to them your vicarious sadness or frustration on their behalf, or to
communicate your desire to simply listen.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif;">On
the other hand, if a friend made a post about how they can’t stop popping
pills, and how their friends are taking advantage of them and gossiping about
them and ghosting them when it’s convenient, and how their parents aren’t
sending them enough money to get by at age 25, then an entirely different
response may be required. As their friend it may be best to reply with some
tough love, and tell them to get their damned life together; to stop abusing
medication or seek professional help; to surround themselves with people who
are less dysfunctional and bring positivity into their life; to go out and earn
a living for themselves instead of allowing themselves to be financially
dependent well into adulthood. If this person is among your best friends, the
truest of the true, for whom you’d do anything in your power to help, uplift,
and empower, in this kind of situation you’ve got to engage with them in a
little disputation, being forceful and assertive even if it’s exhausting or
emotionally burdensome for you. Sometimes you’ve got to fight for the people
you love, even if it’s a war of words alone.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif;">In
other words, “you’ve got this” just isn’t gonna cut it.<o:p></o:p></span></p>Blake Xhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14474179291529221773noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4066450287048980334.post-14631357484949865592022-05-01T19:19:00.006-07:002022-05-01T19:32:27.902-07:00Exercise your demons (the power of vice compels you) - excerpt from The Devils In Your Details<p>From <i>The Devils In Your Details:</i></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><i><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgwtueRVPCnaXogAd_3f1K9oO71lK6jC6KKZgfbyrHjWSimVh6ax7ic0G-i0c9OV4ztxhPLJuO38FblPoiLAJcspyUYzIi3MH2VGSDEALzc3IVeYhmW_fyXtEwA7y4vAMw2gLkQo9t5NfNIDpYdGWkAqri8pZKZkTYzH-ZiLo9YyxbQnqOEPNMRBwUL_Q/s480/demonbottle.jpg" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="480" data-original-width="290" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgwtueRVPCnaXogAd_3f1K9oO71lK6jC6KKZgfbyrHjWSimVh6ax7ic0G-i0c9OV4ztxhPLJuO38FblPoiLAJcspyUYzIi3MH2VGSDEALzc3IVeYhmW_fyXtEwA7y4vAMw2gLkQo9t5NfNIDpYdGWkAqri8pZKZkTYzH-ZiLo9YyxbQnqOEPNMRBwUL_Q/s320/demonbottle.jpg" width="193" /></a></i></div><p></p><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><b><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: x-large;">W</span></b><span style="font-family: Georgia, serif;">hen it comes to
how people view and deal with substances or activities often regarded as vices,
one of the worst offenders is the overindulgent consumer. He’s usually the
victim of his own inability to exercise good judgment, discipline, or
moderation. There was one in particular who stood out to me. To protect his
privacy, here we’ll call him Glenn Corbin. He had two distinct – and ultimately
debilitating – vices that I knew of: drinking and gambling. For each of these,
he indulged in something very specific. He loved red wine, and the cheap stuff
in particular – seriously, he’d guzzle down bottles of that shoddy Australian
wine you could get for six bucks or so. (If you can’t figure out the brand, a
quick search engine query should clear that right up for you.) If he didn’t finish
the entire bottle in one night, he’d wake up the next morning and spill the
rest out in the sink, swearing in stark contradiction to his addictive habit
that he’d never touch alcohol again.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="tab-stops: .25in; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>There are many stories to be told about
Glenn’s bargain bin wine escapades, some that I witnessed directly, and others
that were relayed to me by mutual acquaintances; some that were equal parts
hilarious and saddening, others that were serious and devastating. Because this
book isn’t titled <i>The Intoxicated Misadventures of Glenn from New Jersey</i>,
I’ll trim the stories down to a few short narratives.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="tab-stops: .25in; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>The more amusing one I’d like to share
actually happened during the brief period in which he lived in Chicago, and was
later relayed to me by my roommate in the Windy City years later. The first
thing you have to understand is that the neighborhood he lived in was on the
South Side, in an area beset with poverty and gang violence. In other words, it
wasn’t exactly safe to walk around in at three o’clock in the morning.
Nevertheless, at that late hour, Glenn decided it was a good idea to take his
chances on street blocks known for shootouts and drive-bys in order to have a
wine-addled stroll to the local park. He did this while actually <i>carrying a
glass full of wine</i>, which he was eagerly sipping from as he strode down the
dimly-lit sidewalk, his other hand casually placed in the pocket of his jeans.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="tab-stops: .25in; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>I know the details of this because a
mutual friend of Glenn’s and my future roommate’s – we’ll call him Stewart –
happened to be driving home when he spotted this odd event. Though Stewart
offered to drive Glenn back home, Glenn adamantly refused, and seemingly blind
to the other man’s disbelief, proceeded to approach two vehicles in which
several gang members were making some sort of drug exchange. Ignoring Stewart’s
hastening calls for him to get in the car, Glenn began to lecture these young
gentlemen on their lifestyle choices, pointing his finger and nonchalantly
chastising them in between swigs of wine. I was told the gangsters were so
shocked by the calmness and audacity of this random, skinny older white man
that their mouths hung open for a few moments, at a loss for words. Before long,
however, they proceeded to curse at him and make threats on his life. Suddenly,
as if sense had finally come to him, he took a look around, assessed the
situation, and meekly shuffled off to continue his walk. To me, this story is
so unheard of and funny that it seems like a scene that fell out of some
offbeat comedy movie, but in reality, Glenn was very fortunate to have walked
away from this situation with his life – and physical wellbeing – intact.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="tab-stops: .25in; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>The next incident fits firmly in the ‘saddening’
category, and happened during a visit to my future roommate’s mother’s
apartment in Brooklyn, New York. Let’s call that future roommate Jeff for the
sake of brevity. Jeff’s mother had a couple of guests over – old friends of the
family. I don’t know why Glenn had accompanied Jeff to the city that day, but I
do know that Glenn was in a very, very bad place in his life. An older woman
who he had considered to be like a mother to him had recently died, and he was
carrying her ashes around in an urn (more on this later). Aside from said urn, in
his other hand was a recently purchased bottle of wine – yes, still of the
cheapo variety. I don’t know what was going through Jeff’s head at the time,
but he ought to have sized up both of these items, as well as Glenn’s agitated
and melancholy demeanor, and realized this was a recipe for disaster.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="tab-stops: .25in; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>A couple of hours into this visit, Glenn
had likely polished off close to half the bottle, and was becoming increasingly
loud, rude, and testy as Jeff struggled to maintain a conversation with his
family friends. I’m sure the situation was awkward by that point, but it became
downright unpleasant as Glenn continued to raise his voice to the point where
it was an uphill battle to even get a word in edgewise.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="tab-stops: .25in; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>What happened next was as random as it was
– surely – embarrassing, and Jeff never explained what triggered it, but it was
certain to make Glenn an unforgettable figure, forever affixed to the memories
of these people, like a wad of gum nestled deep down to the roots of your hair. Perhaps it was the urn and the ashes therein of this beloved older woman
that had prompted it, or maybe the alcohol had triggered a flood of emotion in
him that he could no longer hold back. Whatever the cause had been, he suddenly
picked up his phone and decided to call his mother, a woman who had
psychologically abused him and thereafter disowned him, and whom he hadn’t
spoken to in years. For some reason, something in his intoxicated mind told him
it would be socially appropriate to place this call while he was a guest in the
home of his friend’s mother, in front of company he had just made the
acquaintance of.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="tab-stops: .25in; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>What transpired next was nothing short of
making a scene in every sense of the word. Glenn had scarcely begun the drunken
conversation before he had devolved into a sobbing mess, screaming and cursing
and berating her for never having loved him, for never being there. Everyone
else present must have been as silent as a tomb, their plans of coffee and mild
conversation unceremoniously thrown out the window into a dumpster, which was
then set on fire. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="tab-stops: .25in; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>As Glenn was now engaging in histrionics
to the level that he was physically pounding his chest with his hand and likely
treating even the neighbors to his own personal <i>Jerry Springer</i>
experience, Jeff must have finally had the presence of mind to try and handle
the situation. His thoughts must have been something akin to “oh fuck, this is
actually happening in real life right now,” though I was told his words were
kinder and more sympathetic. And I support that sort of response. The situation
might be objectively humorous in retrospect, but the truth is that this man’s
emotional pain and mental health issues were something to be looked at through
a lense of compassion and understanding. As such, Jeff convinced Glenn to get
out and get some air, and afterward he was able to sober up and, I’m assuming,
find some way to apologize for his behavior.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="tab-stops: .25in; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>The final wine story, and one of the last
I heard about Glenn before we fell out of contact, was the most distressing to
me, because it highlighted his addiction issues in a profound and entirely
unfunny manner. After having had a bit too much merlot, Glenn stumbled back
into his rental car and proceeded to turn onto New Jersey’s highly busy, highly
chaotic Route 23. In the wrong lane. I fortunately was not present when this
occurred, and I don’t know what must have gone through his mind as he realized
he was driving headlong into oncoming traffic, but I know it’s an absolute
wonder he wasn’t killed. I don’t believe in angels – guardian or otherwise –
but it really does beg the question of whether he had some protective spirit in
his presence that night. From what I remember being told, the car slammed into
the divider and was obviously totalled, and Glenn sustained serious back
injuries, but he was alive. He ended up having to have a rod inserted into his
back and will have lifelong chronic pain because of his choice to drink and
drive, something for which there is no excuse, and for which he should thank
the universe or whatever deity he holds dear that he didn’t harm or kill anyone
else.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="tab-stops: .25in; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>But I mentioned two addictions, right?
Well, it just so happens that hours before that crash, he had been just one
state over in his usual place of choice for getting inebriated: a casino. There
was one in particular he would frequent in Bethlehem, Pennsylvania, falling
hook, line, and sinker for its membership scam designed to separate him from
his money. I accompanied him a couple of times to this place – after all, I had
just turned 21 and it was my first time actually being able to go to a casino
and gamble. Now, I’ve never really been interested much in it, but I thought I’d
like to try my hand at it and see if I win anything (for the record, I won
about $80 at the slot machines on one occasion, and came out even on the other –
but of course, I very easily had the power to take my modest win and get up and
walk away). <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="tab-stops: .25in; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>So during each of these visits, it was
just the two of us – well, three if you count the old woman’s ashes in the urn,
because of course he had to bring it with him. I had known the woman back when
she was still alive, and here I’ll call her Zel, because she looked like the
spitting image of Zelda Rubinstein. If you’re not familiar with the actress,
she played the eccentric medium in <i>Poltergeist</i> who helped the family get
in touch with their daughter on the ‘other side.’ He liked to think of Zel’s
remains as his “good luck charm.” I’ll never forget how embarrassed I was as he
sat at the slot machine next to mine, swaying from intoxication and rubbing the
urn, saying, “Come on Zel, help me win big!” Of course, at a machine across
from ours was a gentleman who was possibly even <i>more</i> drunk, who was
trying to convince a very harrassed looking old Asian woman that if you simply
rub the slot machine the right way, you’re more likely to win. So, you know,
the bar – no pun intended – was pretty low to begin with.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="tab-stops: .25in; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Anyway, I quickly assessed that his penchant
for gambling was a real issue; a full-fledged addiction that might have been
even stronger than his constant need for booze. I couldn’t understand why he
was working so hard for his money as a budding real estate agent back in Jersey,
only to piss it all away at casinos in PA – to say nothing of the sheer amount
of gas he used up in any given week during that interstate travel. But at that
point I simply didn’t understand addiction, and there are still components of
it to this day that I’m trying to comprehend. I’m big on empathy, so it’s a goal
of mine to form a better picture of how it works, and perhaps by the time I’ve
finished this chapter I’ll have that deeper understanding by doing what I think
I do best: processing my thoughts, emotions, and memories through the power of
the written word.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="tab-stops: .25in; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Glenn’s abysmally poor decision-making
that day, which led to his near-death experience, was the coalescence of two
vices that had long since taken root in his life, and which now ruled his mind
and body, so that his every waking thought was filtered through the rippled,
distorted myopia of drinking and gambling, like looking through the bottom of a
glass containing the last dregs of whiskey.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="tab-stops: .25in; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>If I hadn’t understood the danger of
overindulgence up to that point, seeing or hearing about these incidents,
whether firsthand or second, certainly unfurled a length of bright yellow
caution tape in my mind’s eye. I came to understand that moderation can
sometimes be the letdown that takes the wind out of your sails, and excess can
be the spark that lights your fire and makes your weekend legendary. But
unchecked and reckless excess, with neither rational thinking nor
consequence assessment involved, is something I stand firmly against. It can
ravage mental and physical health and destroy lives, and I’m not just talking
about drinking – whatever vice you prefer, even if it’s gambling or sex – if no
restraint is ever exercised, no personal accountability ever taken, your hands
don’t belong at the proverbial steering wheel, because clearly, you don’t know
how to handle it.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="tab-stops: .25in; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>So when I talk about exercising your
demons, what in the hell am I really saying? So, there’s a very well known
story arc from the late 70s in Marvel Comics’ <i>Iron Man</i> called “Demon in
a Bottle.” That’s partly how I came up with the mantra. In it, Tony Stark is
guilt-ridden after his armor malfunctions and kills a foreign ambassador. He begins
drinking. And drinking. And drinking. The story deals with his subsequent
alcohol addiction, which was something profoundly different for comics to tackle
in that time period, and for which critics deemed the arc “the quintessential
Iron Man story.” Bob Layton, who co-wrote the saga, remarked that it was
decided alcohol would be the bad guy. “Instead of Doctor Doom or somebody like
that,” he said, “it was the bottle. That was our villain of the month."<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="tab-stops: .25in; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Here's the thing about demons: they can be
compellingly attractive for their darkness, yet utterly dangerous if approached
without boundaries. What do we do when we exercise? We seek to reap benefits
and rewards, primarily the betterment of the body, but also psychological
satisfaction. I’ve always firmly believed that it’s just as important for the mind
and the spirit to occasionally indulge in things a bit to the extreme, yet
never to the extent that you’re no longer in control. Sometimes the massive
dopamine hits you get from a strong drink, or great sex, or that extra snack,
is worth the hangover, or the post-coital tiredness, or the calorie gain you’ll
have to deal with afterward. Yet diving headlong and blindly into these things
with neither boundaries nor personal responsibility is a nightmare waiting to
happen. As such, a clear difference must be delineated between the two.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="tab-stops: .25in; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>I believe it was summed up best by Anton LaVey,
founder of the Church of Satan and author of <i>The Satanic Bible.</i> In it,
he established the mantra of “indulgence, not compulsion.” He wrote the
following on the subject: “People often mistake compulsion for indulgence, but
there is a world of difference between the two. A compulsion is never created
by indulging, but by not being able to indulge. By making something taboo, it
only serves to intensify the desire. Everyone likes to do the things they have
been told not to. ‘Forbidden fruits are the sweetest.’<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="tab-stops: .25in; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“Webster’s Encyclopedic Dictionary defines
indulgence thusly: ‘To give oneself up to; not to restrain or oppose; to give
free course to; to gratify by compliance; to yield to.’ The dictionary
definition of <i>compulsion</i> is: ‘The act of compelling or driving by force,
physical or moral; constraint of the will; (compulsory, obligatory).’ In other
words, indulgence implies choice, whereas compulsion indicates the <i>lack</i>
of choice.”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="tab-stops: .25in; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>I’d say that it’s strongly implicit in
matters of addiction that lack of choice is often a core component, wouldn’t
you?<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="tab-stops: .25in; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>I will always support the exercising of
demons, as by contrast, whenever society has attempted to <i>exorcise</i><span style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;"> demons, whether we’re talking about
Prohibition or handing out prison sentences for youth who had an ounce of
marijuana in their pocket, the end result is that people are generally left the
worse for wear because of it. We choose our demons, certainly, but that freedom
of choice is a small but key part in the underpinnings of democracy, and when
we attempt to brandish the crucifix of law, legislating our morality so we can
feel better and delude ourselves into thinking we’re pristine and perfect, those
demons don’t go away. They simply flee to the cracks and crevices and backalleys
of society, where they manifest in black markets, gangs, and vehicles destroyed
and a life almost obliterated, because one man overcompensated when he picked
up the wine bottle, and afterward made a terrible mistake.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="tab-stops: .25in; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; mso-bidi-font-style: italic;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Life is
not a single path made to be quickly marched through with destination always in
mind, but rather, a labyrinth made for wandering and detour, so that one might
indulge in its pleasures and be spiritually and psychologically – if sometimes
not always physically – the better for it. Sometimes consorting with demons is
the best way to bask in that moment of paradise. As Epicurus so famously put
it, “Stranger, here you do well to tarry; here our highest good is pleasure.”<o:p></o:p></span></p><i></i><p></p>Blake Xhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14474179291529221773noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4066450287048980334.post-80658363018261658232022-04-25T20:08:00.003-07:002022-04-25T20:09:58.091-07:00"The Window"<p> </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh0xFMOOlCl_iGy9IKeu7780VTPAeErdl7AQa2AvEFYhbzZmAvKt5RhPOqEzOBhI7kH8SaCXFYM8lpn4vnXjFTf5iZCOCSZIZ9SjMLyHAfdxhOCv7HdtwQRI4juhcrSCREjNwgGcI5QVtYU7LB5IGXvR4hOrncuMp6apqL4N__CsrxDIuBfT_oiFRmleg/s600/jpgpagebreak.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="111" data-original-width="600" height="59" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh0xFMOOlCl_iGy9IKeu7780VTPAeErdl7AQa2AvEFYhbzZmAvKt5RhPOqEzOBhI7kH8SaCXFYM8lpn4vnXjFTf5iZCOCSZIZ9SjMLyHAfdxhOCv7HdtwQRI4juhcrSCREjNwgGcI5QVtYU7LB5IGXvR4hOrncuMp6apqL4N__CsrxDIuBfT_oiFRmleg/s320/jpgpagebreak.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><p></p><p class="MsoNormal">The sun was in decline over the horizon’s eager maw<br />When there opened a window adjacent to my soul<br />And hiemal drafts swept in rivulets through my veins<br />A voice spoke a greeting in foreign, repulsive syntax<br />With coarsely articulated threats I could not parse<br />Until quiet meditation wed gnosis with dawning horror<br />As I beheld Death enthroned upon the infernal apex<br />That beguiled the spirit with oblique falsehoods<br />That when believed, embroiled the mind in throes of
perdition<br />And hurtled the senses to the bleakest bitter cavern<br />Swallowing with rapturous envy the remnants of hope</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhR5aD6v0QFYbFl6_4rzIiuIpPAh3bLHFrY2xBg1beIFCUm7eEVkfuDV-duhDvOMxYIzve8qRmOxDdPybAfvPsXi6qCU-nL_LVPpg0iCYHXNTVRHy6lqvbBD0fX91UCJv_fnobOQIKF411MIbplUaoqRo3UjfklpBoFakS6QojA8yTe27whFRzVs7PzXw/s541/Suffering.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="430" data-original-width="541" height="159" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhR5aD6v0QFYbFl6_4rzIiuIpPAh3bLHFrY2xBg1beIFCUm7eEVkfuDV-duhDvOMxYIzve8qRmOxDdPybAfvPsXi6qCU-nL_LVPpg0iCYHXNTVRHy6lqvbBD0fX91UCJv_fnobOQIKF411MIbplUaoqRo3UjfklpBoFakS6QojA8yTe27whFRzVs7PzXw/w200-h159/Suffering.jpg" width="200" /></a></div>
<p class="MsoNormal">And so it was that I came to be as the faintest vessel<br />As the darting shadows at the corners of the eyes<br />Disincorporating in atoms now verminous and vile<br />Thrown with disparate sensations into heinous realms<br />Beset by turbid channels of mercurial static<br />That neither stem from nor lead to any fluvial source<br />But from which I must drink that which cannot slake thirst<br />It was there madness wrote itself like an endless equation<br />Composed of numbers wildly bent and of ill definition<br />That thronged around my pallid, screaming remains<br />Taunting in malevolent, reverberating tones</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgTOzWlrk85ySpGkfJZQys0VkySDHlLGrxAdDYFjPnsFhbPLepHy88bLOT39StrPLkzdShzc5oARNKVl2znu1H4FWZKBsfU8xd46iMz64hLrJAmbM_gmIiLe8JXqbdJ7tRr9rRYXmrGxMiFlrmpQBw7kg32NYkPU8ugqzbK6uO6Qom0mdmWgXfkyJfL1g/s1100/tumblr_nj7rmlgOam1u6b65mo1_1280.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="600" data-original-width="1100" height="109" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgTOzWlrk85ySpGkfJZQys0VkySDHlLGrxAdDYFjPnsFhbPLepHy88bLOT39StrPLkzdShzc5oARNKVl2znu1H4FWZKBsfU8xd46iMz64hLrJAmbM_gmIiLe8JXqbdJ7tRr9rRYXmrGxMiFlrmpQBw7kg32NYkPU8ugqzbK6uO6Qom0mdmWgXfkyJfL1g/w200-h109/tumblr_nj7rmlgOam1u6b65mo1_1280.jpg" width="200" /></a></div>
<p class="MsoNormal">“There is nothing more to be,” they declared,<br />at intervals with wisps of cacophonous laughter<br />“That which you were, never truly was<br />For the universe is a mouth that cannot feed<br />Gaping in vain at a dark knowledge that cannot be digested,<br />for it is enshrouded in roiling glacial waves of pitch black<br />Incessantly dousing the final desperate embers of life,<br />which fades upon a craquelured canvas shorn of stars<br />And thereupon lay your discarded mask of flesh<br />With barren expression and voice bereft of joy or wonder<br />Now but the merest piece of entity ensorcelled by damnation<br />The sum total of parts once amalgamated only by cruelest
happenstance<br />Until the unfathomable depths of truth unto your thoughts
were rendered”</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjecdIdY_VFyMp3jOHx9LX3V5E-69ZSwFNhFzI8rlN65la-p0VW5Hb8UPrXXod0zr27XdD1K1ed3TGc5oWMMYVQM-f5sij_BO3RRBPaRw_WfAhyGoAcSadoPlkIaINw5wFKHAtBHYpP8OmNdeBS2tH5kdUr5njviEtnYrc38GE67F8u9eHOvMQmpgpu8g/s479/tumblr_mysigbADHF1s13dsio1_500.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="325" data-original-width="479" height="136" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjecdIdY_VFyMp3jOHx9LX3V5E-69ZSwFNhFzI8rlN65la-p0VW5Hb8UPrXXod0zr27XdD1K1ed3TGc5oWMMYVQM-f5sij_BO3RRBPaRw_WfAhyGoAcSadoPlkIaINw5wFKHAtBHYpP8OmNdeBS2tH5kdUr5njviEtnYrc38GE67F8u9eHOvMQmpgpu8g/w200-h136/tumblr_mysigbADHF1s13dsio1_500.jpg" width="200" /></a></div>
<p class="MsoNormal">When the voices stopped speaking I awoke in my body<br />Hushed, bewildered flutterings of despair prising my lips<br />And so it is now that I contain the terrible wisdom of
Apophis<br />In every waking glance toward the nefarious corridors of
Hell<br />That forever linger at the trace of every wind and every
sound<br />Like a prophecy insidious and twisted in its inevitability<br />And no quietude can reach these ears that attend at the
periphery of reality<br />Nor is peace beheld in these eyes that avoid the errant,
creeking taps<br />Upon the glass of each reflection that stares with hateful
envy at the life it fascimiles<br />The sun no longer rises over the desolate tundras of the
material<br />And the sleep into which I desperately descend is void
masquerading as reprieve<br />The axioms of ruin take hold; I will never awaken again</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgCwWXi43BqpEzc60JzTQ0dkbAGiWyJqZH41O3lMG2IZg53-HWpew-lSbVRE6T4aRrZPlJJvSVpeD4uWBqngobcswMN9OSYgyzXhXHoi9fA49igXJlD61QdWMP0anTsQdpR6IrYQt-p2dMkIJtPtBXg0IeQ9mFMDCUXOo1vJAliUddPFUSszSW1gu1ygw/s1024/tumblr_nujy9nfr711tavs5io1_1280.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="713" data-original-width="1024" height="223" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgCwWXi43BqpEzc60JzTQ0dkbAGiWyJqZH41O3lMG2IZg53-HWpew-lSbVRE6T4aRrZPlJJvSVpeD4uWBqngobcswMN9OSYgyzXhXHoi9fA49igXJlD61QdWMP0anTsQdpR6IrYQt-p2dMkIJtPtBXg0IeQ9mFMDCUXOo1vJAliUddPFUSszSW1gu1ygw/s320/tumblr_nujy9nfr711tavs5io1_1280.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>Blake Xhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14474179291529221773noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4066450287048980334.post-85505312906576869212022-04-22T12:04:00.003-07:002022-04-22T12:07:40.902-07:00Music musings 4/22/22: My current binges<p style="text-align: justify;">‘Music musings’ is a new little update I’ll likely start
adding to this blog every month or two. Basically, it’s a guide to a handful of
songs or bands/artists that I’m currently enjoying, what I think is good about
them, and some further recommendations or notes on my part. Some of what you’ll
see here, I may have reacted to on my channel, <i>Nuclear Reactions</i>, so
spoilers ahead if you’re not up to date on my videos. While others, I’ve
listened to privately, as I tend to do with a lot of black metal, for example.
Anyway, here are some of my current binges.</p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><b>Lena Scissorhands ft. Death Dealer Union – Borderlines</b></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEggDsVHPXzb-BK8bOK1HCeoc5ndytvrogsQ4ay9yYAc696CEUpR0fgKDZH1PGa0IPBMwdTwCpk5qgGUzkhlIqxuYvmx75pLbN3T_XrzV1exh6SMlswaxbNzAzM-FCKozcCd2RhfEGntVhkzXsyQzVPwsOxf2jQSl9Rdufgog0eDJAlQtLg0Zr7TtOq-Lw/s827/blines.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="827" data-original-width="819" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEggDsVHPXzb-BK8bOK1HCeoc5ndytvrogsQ4ay9yYAc696CEUpR0fgKDZH1PGa0IPBMwdTwCpk5qgGUzkhlIqxuYvmx75pLbN3T_XrzV1exh6SMlswaxbNzAzM-FCKozcCd2RhfEGntVhkzXsyQzVPwsOxf2jQSl9Rdufgog0eDJAlQtLg0Zr7TtOq-Lw/s320/blines.jpg" width="317" /></a></div>As I said in my recent reaction to this, “Borderlines” is the song of the year for me so far, and one of the best representations of Lena’s vocal talents. Not only are her cleans and harshes equally outstanding, but the melody and main chorus really deliver on the memorability and catchiness, something that I enjoyed so much I was nearly caught off guard by it, because this isn’t Infected Rain – it’s simply Lena collaborating with Death Dealer Union, a band I had previously never heard of, but one that I’ll certainly be checking out now.<p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">The band itself provided me with a spectacular introduction to their craft on this song, with fast-paced, chugging riffs and drumming that really leans into both groove and power in the way that it’s done throughout the song. The song as a whole is a perfect combination of heavy and melodic, without either of those attributes being negatively affected or watered down by the other. As I’ve stated so often on my YouTube channel, it’s a delicate balance to strike, but when it’s done the right way, the payoff is immensely rewarding for the listener. This was definitely the case for me, or I wouldn’t have replayed this song about 20 times since I first heard it. The song, along with its music video, dropped about two weeks ago, and if you haven’t checked it out yet, set aside everything else you’re doing and go listen to it <i>now</i>.</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><iframe allowfullscreen="" class="BLOG_video_class" height="266" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/kB1VE9Zw6co" width="320" youtube-src-id="kB1VE9Zw6co"></iframe></div><br /><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><b>Theotoxin – Somnus Profanus</b></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj6rrQAm_w9iTnnCl9m_qDm0f2DiWTxuAFhqLaWR3d6OkiOZx6ZJf1sT6LX2T5mCGgRRVXAFTNb_ZdbnLqqiN0Am0bZf_km6_QBxHGtYAWiil49oQzF9btpeznNcIVqjPto84wHatMqdy374kCcdFh-_VgppAYU-XP4UXK2ttgoHqI6oSqRRXczCwBKIw/s1200/81xlEpqfYNL._SL1200_.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1200" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj6rrQAm_w9iTnnCl9m_qDm0f2DiWTxuAFhqLaWR3d6OkiOZx6ZJf1sT6LX2T5mCGgRRVXAFTNb_ZdbnLqqiN0Am0bZf_km6_QBxHGtYAWiil49oQzF9btpeznNcIVqjPto84wHatMqdy374kCcdFh-_VgppAYU-XP4UXK2ttgoHqI6oSqRRXczCwBKIw/s320/81xlEpqfYNL._SL1200_.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>I’ll be honest, the album artwork caught my attention before
anything else. Theotoxin is a band that I’ve listened to a bit over the past
year, but I had mostly forgotten about them during the last several months –
not because the music wasn’t excellent, but because it simply got lost in the
seemingly endless pile of music I consume. Sometimes things get buried, only to
be rediscovered and enjoyed later on. But yeah, the photo of a nun with her
head in a noose immediately stood out to me, and when I recognized the band
name, “Somnus Profanus” was the first song I listened to a few nights ago,
followed by every other song off that record, <i>Consilivm</i>, which was their
second full-length, released in 2018.<p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">Between the threshing, militant guitar riffage, the
artillery fire blastbeats, and the harsh vocals defined by ferocity and
delivered in roars and shrieks, “Somnus Profanus” is a mind ravaging,
exhilarating, and appropriately hellish entry point into Theotoxin’s music. The
song dances on the periphery of bestial black metal, but really goes full tilt
into <i>traditional </i>black metal territory, with a twinge of death metal mostly represented by
the percussion and vocals. Excellent stuff that I’ll be replaying for a while.</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><iframe allowfullscreen="" class="BLOG_video_class" height="266" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/0yqNont4-h0" width="320" youtube-src-id="0yqNont4-h0"></iframe></div><br /><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><b>Yungblud – The Funeral</b></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiTsffH1KSIF_OABBOMeDORwHzZTUbw4A53RBKCCvQtjMGdzt_S9zvmyyOHo7omZtVDeEMAAU2Ck5RfbgsfmImAzpVaZP4GhLTkiFjB-HL4oVLuUUGypzGDyb9Z-r30SV7Y1Ic202N8esMEGDVgfbaO1iWsGCHUpfdnaSBXIvqEkqB41e6vRm0JNXFk8A/s1800/Screen-Shot-2022-03-08-at-3.20.06-PM.webp" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1800" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiTsffH1KSIF_OABBOMeDORwHzZTUbw4A53RBKCCvQtjMGdzt_S9zvmyyOHo7omZtVDeEMAAU2Ck5RfbgsfmImAzpVaZP4GhLTkiFjB-HL4oVLuUUGypzGDyb9Z-r30SV7Y1Ic202N8esMEGDVgfbaO1iWsGCHUpfdnaSBXIvqEkqB41e6vRm0JNXFk8A/s320/Screen-Shot-2022-03-08-at-3.20.06-PM.webp" width="320" /></a></div>Speaking of ‘something different’ – let’s get completely
away from metal for the moment with Yungblud, who put out this weirdly
appealing gothy, semi-pop-punkish, 80s-esque song called “The Funeral.” I have
to admit, I’ve never really sat down and listened to Yungblud’s solo work; I’d
previously only ever heard him doing guest vocals with MGK or Bring Me The
Horizon, and here he employs a completely different style of singing. He comes
off like an eyeliner-wearing, modern version of Billy Idol with red hair, that
familiar snarky pop punk attitude, and – perhaps most interestingly – the presence
of Ozzy Osbourne in the official music video for “The Funeral.”<p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">Look, there’s no way around it: the song is catchy as hell;
it makes you almost instinctually bop your head whether you want to or not. So
you can be a faux-unimpressed, judgmental metalhead all you want, folding your
arms and frowning with uncertain trepidation – it’s going to fade about half a
minute into this song, giving way to an almost mandatory sense of enjoyment for
the cadence to which Yungblud sings and the contagiously melodic oddity that is
the song itself.</p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">Yungblud does the whole thing seemingly with tongue planted
firmly in cheek, being ready for any and all haters with a bit of
self-deprecation (see the end scene where Sharon Osbourne runs him over with
her car, after which she and Ozzy dismiss him as a “poser”). The whole thing is
good, bizarre, unexpected fun. Don’t take it too seriously, just let the music
take over and do its thing, you won’t regret it.</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><iframe allowfullscreen="" class="BLOG_video_class" height="266" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/02T6xLNXEE0" width="320" youtube-src-id="02T6xLNXEE0"></iframe></div><br /><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><b>Leviathan – The Smoke of Their Torment</b></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEihjUYg_Ean_YEGrA5o4qPoYtJfLjqmVUCHB56VCn5Cp6aH1XvHW_bLSqTMCu-DNwAyZ-IIwiwrH4U_QBsysEoKQaSmDlHN9fTQYfghQo24BOuDXKQTni-oPqtezCSzfRWYEWNBD__9iVgZR3mciSLGVPT5yG2XZuievl50iSVk4eoL8Z7CBv4Sulfbng/s750/a2712680805_10.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="743" data-original-width="750" height="317" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEihjUYg_Ean_YEGrA5o4qPoYtJfLjqmVUCHB56VCn5Cp6aH1XvHW_bLSqTMCu-DNwAyZ-IIwiwrH4U_QBsysEoKQaSmDlHN9fTQYfghQo24BOuDXKQTni-oPqtezCSzfRWYEWNBD__9iVgZR3mciSLGVPT5yG2XZuievl50iSVk4eoL8Z7CBv4Sulfbng/s320/a2712680805_10.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>Alright, in case I’ve scared anyone reading this away with
the song above, let’s get back to some orthodox black metal. I’ve always said
that this genre has a darkly spiritual quality for me; that its palpable black
energies make me feel something beyond drug-like and almost euphorically
astral. Certainly, Leviathan is up there with those bands that deliver on that
for me, even though this one-man-band (Wrest does everything, vocally and
instrumentally) has never directly professed a purposeful connection with the
occult.<p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">Leviathan is more so one of those bands that descends into
an abyss of depressive thought and philosophy, misanthropic notions, and
existential terror (at least, if you think about it long enough and dwell on
the perceived meaningless of everything). There’s nothing deliberately in these
songs about black magick, Satanism, or demonic evocation, but I’ve always felt
that this band’s music is a superb choice for channeling inhuman spirits;
something in Leviathan’s morbidity must attract those otherworldly energies
that I find myself craving whenever I binge black metal.</p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">While Leviathan has gone spiritual in the technical sense, playing
with themes that are Lovecraft-adjacent (there’s a record called <i>Tentacles
of Whorror</i>), most of its songs really do exemplify the aforementioned
lyrical themes, with album titles like <i>The Tenth Sub Level of Suicide</i>
and <i>Unfailing Fall Into Naught</i>. My personal favorite track at the
moment, “The Smoke of Their Torment,” is an over 6-minute long song from the
record <i>Scar Sighted</i>, released in 2015. The lyrics are sinfully vitriolic
prose (“march toward wicked transformations, slither from mine pallet that I
might maintain your living ash, consume them with your fire, rejoice”). The
harsh vocals are nightmarish, agonized savagery, and the raw, caterwauling
guitar is caustic enough to make the brimstone walls of Hell weep and sputter
plumes of thick, black smoke. Highly recommended.</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><iframe allowfullscreen="" class="BLOG_video_class" height="266" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/08hUcATpJFI" width="320" youtube-src-id="08hUcATpJFI"></iframe></div><br /><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><b style="text-align: left;">Honorable mentions:</b></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><i>Motionless In White – Masterpiece<o:p></o:p></i></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><i>Inverno – Hollow<o:p></o:p></i></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><i>Red Handed Denial – Cloud 9<o:p></o:p></i></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><i>Gaerea – Whispers<o:p></o:p></i></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><i>Absent In Body – Sarin<o:p></o:p></i></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><i>Gorlock – Used Hallucinations Baritone<o:p></o:p></i></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><i>Violet Orlandi – Don’t Fear The Reaper<o:p></o:p></i></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><i>Deicide – Kill the Light of Christ<o:p></o:p></i></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><i>Enslaved – The River’s Mouth<o:p></o:p></i></p>Blake Xhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14474179291529221773noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4066450287048980334.post-2751900109135633332022-01-21T13:02:00.003-08:002022-01-21T13:02:45.319-08:00Tuning out of ‘toons: Why I don’t watch animation<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEg4X4cmEZhyCM1AV38FjgThc6BLadBeLzOVUr9FEyF1G3sbSUfT6D6Noo2JlYd5tjntF_hAZyL3Ku9JIQ6asmBYbm2jU_T7aOCLcYpcy9k45OuwTdSyyjfNmgyXdaAbtmxNmK4ZeYd_Eo6sDDbd_0w_omDy94kj9vev_HULj0wSvsw-eBUcnr4ZvB4sxQ=s1200" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="800" data-original-width="1200" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEg4X4cmEZhyCM1AV38FjgThc6BLadBeLzOVUr9FEyF1G3sbSUfT6D6Noo2JlYd5tjntF_hAZyL3Ku9JIQ6asmBYbm2jU_T7aOCLcYpcy9k45OuwTdSyyjfNmgyXdaAbtmxNmK4ZeYd_Eo6sDDbd_0w_omDy94kj9vev_HULj0wSvsw-eBUcnr4ZvB4sxQ=s320" width="320" /></a></div><br />Though there are a handful of exceptions, I normally don’t
watch cartoons, anime, or any other form of animation. Whether in television or
film, I almost always opt out of being a part of that experience. In what would
perhaps appear to some as a direct contradiction to that, I really enjoy
comics, some manga, and actually sketching and drawing characters – both in the
comic book form and – years ago – even in the anime/manga style. After learning
of my lack of interest in animation, many friends and acquaintances have asked
me the simple, resounding question of, “Why?”<p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">This blog post is my answer to that question, and a deeper explanation
for my reasoning. But first, I should say that this was not the case during my
childhood or teen years. I still remember <i>The Lion King</i> being the first film
I ever saw as a child, and have memories of my mother walking with me to the
theater at night in the next town over in New Jersey. I grew up watching the
Spider-Man, X-Men, and Batman animated series, and those first two especially
drove my enormous interest in the superhero genre and comics in general from a
young age. I later got into anime, going through various phases in which I
watched Pokemon, Digimon, Yu-Gi-Oh!, InuYasha, and Dragon Ball Z.</p>
<p class="MsoNormal">This led to a strong interest in manga, and whenever I could
I would pick up volumes of <i>One Piece, Hellsing, </i>and <i>Rave Master</i>.
I also really got into <i>Ghost in the Shell</i>. This led to me drawing manga,
and I first envisioned what is to eventually become my series of fantasy novels
as – at that time – a series of manga. I was 14 at the time, and I had drawn my
main characters complete with big, colored hair and giant weapons. I even had a
few issues of <i>Shonen Jump</i> back around 2003, 2004. It actually looked
like I was on a real trajectory to get massively into anime and manga, but then
something happened to derail that path.</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEiPtn3le61UQNzDIqLcAK_xG40GOyFugCGvEWLB3tiFUBYp5R0ff6Uk47oAqiMAb7hID5OHYwr9fIfKM3WC01fDjI4cIZjkhpcEBozLjd250r-Nb-UaZHYF8JuqySnGQvMSZrgpvtfdJWz-6sLsSo0hReTNWCnSc1suePtvF22atJ8g43CCfbOYYaDHyA=s1100" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1100" data-original-width="677" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEiPtn3le61UQNzDIqLcAK_xG40GOyFugCGvEWLB3tiFUBYp5R0ff6Uk47oAqiMAb7hID5OHYwr9fIfKM3WC01fDjI4cIZjkhpcEBozLjd250r-Nb-UaZHYF8JuqySnGQvMSZrgpvtfdJWz-6sLsSo0hReTNWCnSc1suePtvF22atJ8g43CCfbOYYaDHyA=s320" width="197" /></a></div><p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">I started reading fantasy novels. Tolkien’s <i>The Lord of
the Rings</i> (despite reading <i>The Hobbit</i> many times as a kid, I did not
read these books until about age 12 or 13). Rowling’s<i> Harry Potter</i>.
Harry Turtledove’s <i>Darkness</i> series. Terry Brooks’ <i>The Elfstones of
Shannara</i>. I had always loved reading books, even before I regularly watched
animated series, and I had always loved fantasy. Now, the traditional written
word and the fictional worlds of epic fantasy were colliding together for me in
a way that just perfectly clicked. The deal was sealed on one night I’ll always
remember: it was around 3 in the morning, and I was finishing <i>Harry Potter
and the Order of the Phoenix,</i> reading the part where Harry grieves and
rages over the loss of his godfather, Sirius Black. The character-driven
emotion hit me just the right way, and it was then that I decided I wanted to
be a fantasy writer; but of novels, not of manga (my desire to write superhero
comics, however, would persist).</p>
<p class="MsoNormal">For whatever reason, I drifted away from watching anime as I
got older and became more focused on music and my busy social life in a new
town I had moved to. And anyway, I ended up not having access to TV for about 6
years while I was living in poverty. When I tried to come back to it later,
around age 20 or so, something in me had changed, and the things I realized I
had liked about animated shows years before were rooted in less mature things;
as a kid I just wanted to see giant muscled heroes, dragons, monsters, fighting
robots, and things blowing up. An important bit of clarity: this isn’t to say
that I found <i>anime</i> to be immature – I’m well aware that it’s a fine
medium with plenty of mature, sophisticated, and intelligent content available.</p>
<p class="MsoNormal">But you’ll notice that the animation I watched as a teen
doesn’t necessarily fall into that category. I liked the anime I liked because
I thought it was cool to see <i>Dragon Ball Z</i>’s Piccolo chop an alien in
half with his hand, or watch Vegeta pummel someone into a bloody pulp. Or watch
Egyptian gods blast out of playing cards and obliterate each other on <i>Yu-Gi-Oh!</i>
So when people bring up the very correct point that there’s so much animation
out there that is about so much more than that – stories that are deep,
nuanced, and have real powerful, engaging themes – I completely understand, but
it’s not what drove me to watch animation during that time of my life. And I
had a sort of epiphany: that while I liked seeing drawings in comic books and
manga, and loved drawing in general, when it came to ‘moving pictures’,
animation was simply not the medium that I preferred.</p>
<p class="MsoNormal">Now that I had entered adulthood, I obviously watched shows
and films for a different reason, and I wanted good storytelling, powerful
characterization, interesting and resonant commentary, etc. And I still loved
action and gratuitous violence, but on a more refined level – I came to
appreciate the cinematic <i>art</i> and choreography and special effects associated
with scenes of fighting or even horrific violence. I enjoyed the 2003 <i>The
Texas Chainsaw Massacre</i> scenes because I liked watching the great use of
practical effects to depict all the gore and savagery. When I entered my 30s, I
liked <i>John Wick</i> because of how excellent and attention-to-detail the fight
choreography was. And so on and so forth.</p>
<p class="MsoNormal">Objectively speaking, I could look at anime – those for kids,
teens, adults, or all of the above – and respect and appreciate the talent that
went into it, but I always preferred to see the mastery of traditional drawing
on paper, not a TV screen. Live action just felt more immediate and immersive
to me, whereas with animation, I more so felt like I was just watching things
happen rather than feeling engaged in it. It isn’t that I don’t have a strong
enough suspension of disbelief – I’m an artist and writer, of course I do – I think
it was more that I was just not willing; that I chose <i>not</i> to suspend my
disbelief when it came to animated shows or films, because I just didn’t feel the
‘pull’ to sit and pay close enough attention to it. At the end of the day, I realized
a simple fact: it just wasn’t to my taste.</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhqJDVdjPyieCDszqmISLZ1p-cmD7L0OlQPUiXoI9-tvPMtt80pPeqcYNg8AWfZ0paFhqJiBUvVGC8pMK12C6dovwbzIJcpRJtnO_IHIJrhnrE87e7vBQUTKoJ0iKCeRsWjvB50XALGBLZKG0VMANY703qcT3xsqBQoAYML09oY4CGbPddodMGQDaWvLw=s1200" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="600" data-original-width="1200" height="160" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhqJDVdjPyieCDszqmISLZ1p-cmD7L0OlQPUiXoI9-tvPMtt80pPeqcYNg8AWfZ0paFhqJiBUvVGC8pMK12C6dovwbzIJcpRJtnO_IHIJrhnrE87e7vBQUTKoJ0iKCeRsWjvB50XALGBLZKG0VMANY703qcT3xsqBQoAYML09oY4CGbPddodMGQDaWvLw=s320" width="320" /></a></div><p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">And that’s really it, guys. It’s nothing much more complex
than that. Some people just can’t get into films that are in black and white.
Some people can’t sit and watch films in different languages, even with
subtitles, it just drives them crazy. Some people (myself included) can’t get
into musicals. Or westerns. Or romance. It really does just come down to what
tickles your fancy and in what taste something comes across to your palate.
Certainly there’s an argument to be made for someone to be well rounded and
cultured, but at the end of the day, we’re still all unique individuals with our
own preferences – in everything from artistic medium to genre to presentation.</p>
<p class="MsoNormal">See, I wasn’t watching anime because I specifically wanted
to gravitate toward it. I could have been watching live action series, but many
of those were too deep and complex for me to understand or fully absorb at that
age, and I wouldn’t discover them until my late teens/early adulthood. But I
watched shows like <i>Dragon Ball Z </i>because they were the closest I could
get to something edgy, violent, and bloody. At that time I wanted to push
boundaries and experience things that were extreme and visceral, and when I was
young I wasn’t allowed to watch horror films or very violent action films (I
managed to sneak a few in anyway, but that’s another story for another time).
If I could have gotten my hands on something live action that had a real level
of violence and attitude, I probably would have jumped ship and swam away from
animation that much sooner.</p>
<p class="MsoNormal">There are some exceptions. I might someday watch an episode
of <i>Spider-Man: The Animated Series</i> or <i>Batman: The Animated Series</i>
for pure fun and nostalgia (and the latter certainly had mature themes, as we
know). And I did watch <i>What If?</i> with my girlfriend, and quite enjoyed
some of it. Though even with that show, there were moments where I thought Thor
looked a bit too much like a Disney prince, or the way the characters were
running came across as bouncy and wobbly in an unintentionally comedic way. But
as with any medium – <i>even live action</i> – animation has its limits. And
rather than think less of it or disparage it, I instead appreciate all the work
and skill that goes into animation studios, and the artists and animators who
continue to push the boundaries of that particular art form to make it more
memorable, engaging, and sometimes even atypical compared with what we’re used
to seeing. I didn’t just appreciate <i>What If? </i>because it was Marvel, I
liked that it was well-drawn and the graphics rose above my expectations to
provide an experience that actually <i>was</i> engaging for me.</p>
<p class="MsoNormal">And while this is proof that somewhere out there, there’s
likely some other animation that will have that same effect on me, I don’t have
the time or interest level to sift through dozens of different animated series
in order to find that one, special gem. If it finds me one day, great, I’m here
for it. But I wanted to clear the air and better elucidate my thoughts and
perspective on this, because anyone who thinks that because I may not <i>enjoy</i>
most animation, that then means that I don’t respect or appreciate it, is
simply wrong or misinformed. In fact, part of being open minded and cultured<i>
is</i> having the ability to see the merits of something, even that which we
may not subjectively find enjoyable or compelling.</p>
<p class="MsoNormal">Ultimately, I actually owe quite a bit to the animated form.
It represents the absolute roots of many of my later interests – everything from
comic book art to fantasy writing. And my nostalgia for much of it will always
be a part of me. But in this day and age when there is just <i>so much</i> out
there in the great, wide world of shows, films, and other story formats, I have
to choose what I gravitate toward and what naturally pulls me in and makes me
feel a plethora of emotions and ideas. As of now, animation – for the most part
– simply isn’t part of it. But I’m glad it’s a part of the great, big tapestry
that is the world of fictional stories and imagination. The arts would be a
lesser place without it, and this writer may have never pursued his dreams
otherwise.<o:p></o:p></p>Blake Xhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14474179291529221773noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4066450287048980334.post-58429059705609489132021-01-25T09:04:00.007-08:002021-01-25T09:42:08.382-08:00Danny DeVito: “My mother used to shrink me and trap me in a jar”<p>When Danny DeVito arrived for this interview Monday morning,
he did so holding a cup of coffee and a rain-soaked magazine over his head,
shaking off the January chill. The magazine he held was an issue of <i>Country
Living</i>, a special edition titled “Big Ideas for Small Spaces.” That title
is particularly triggering for DeVito, whose childhood was marked by witchcraft,
shame, and torment. “You get to a place where you finally feel like you’re okay
– like you’re managing,” he said. “And then you see a simple magazine and your
life is upended.”</p>
<p class="MsoNormal"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjSQPVMJhW6ZpxRrCtSUxvVbX0bWnthgAiVBGjoOk04jd6DbwP6QIblQn_fxNf9PItg5sigYwVNBTc6d1mzBIA_0FYHgO29UCu86bJU2Gv4IO6-D8oHQhYOino24OJ-WKj2dj5SsuD2v5e3/s600/danny-devito.jpg" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="600" data-original-width="600" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjSQPVMJhW6ZpxRrCtSUxvVbX0bWnthgAiVBGjoOk04jd6DbwP6QIblQn_fxNf9PItg5sigYwVNBTc6d1mzBIA_0FYHgO29UCu86bJU2Gv4IO6-D8oHQhYOino24OJ-WKj2dj5SsuD2v5e3/s320/danny-devito.jpg" /></a></div>DeVito’s 51-year career would seem outwardly successful, his
public life positive and uncontroversial. However, lurking beneath the surface
is a lifetime of emotional turmoil. Today DeVito decided to come clean in this
shocking tell-all. The decision was not made lightly. “I questioned even coming
here,” he said. “But then I opened my mailbox and found this,” – he shook rain
droplets off his copy of <i>Country Living</i> – “and that was the last straw.”<p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">His young life in Asbury Park, New Jersey seemed perfectly
normal to outsiders. But his mother was hiding a dark secret. “She was a witch,”
he said. “She came from a notorious group of Italian sorcerers and wanted to
raise me into the life. When I refused, things got bad.” When asked for specifics,
DeVito began to choke up. </p><p class="MsoNormal">His reply came in short bursts of sobbing speech. “She
had this…special way of punishing me when<br />ever I refused to go along with her
devious penchant for witchery. She would shrink me and place me inside a jar.
She’d seal the jar up and leave me there for hours. Once, she put a spider
outside the jar just to terrify me further. I was afraid it would get into the
jar somehow and eat me.”</p>
<p class="MsoNormal">For most, the idea of a Hollywood actor with a household
name stuck inside a jar, banging fruitlessly on the glass and howling for help,
would seem hard to believe. DeVito insists it’s what happened, and he has
carried the trauma with him well into his adult life. “I gotta tell you,” he
said, “when I first went on set to start filming <i>Twins,</i> I thought Arnold
Schwarzenegger was gonna eat me. I saw those big Austrian jaws, that 'I eat nails for breakfast' smile, and I just thought, ‘I’m done. It’s all
over for me.’ In a heartbeat, flashbacks of that spider, tapping away on the
outside of my jar, just came spilling back into my head. I freaked out, man. I
freaked out.”</p>
<p class="MsoNormal">His story did not end in tragedy. At the age of 18, he was
finally able to leave his home and pursue a career in acting. Though his mother
attempted to cast another spell, DeVito dodged the blast of shrinking energy on
his way out the door. It was the difference between freedom and slavery; normal
size and micro size. “I think if I didn’t pack a bag and run right then and
there, she might have kept me in the jar forever.”</p>
<p class="MsoNormal">Today, DeVito is a new man. “I’ve been seeing a therapist,
and I haven’t been shrunk since I left home. But sometimes I think it was my
fault. Sometimes I look in the mirror and I feel like I <i>deserve</i> the jar.”
It has certainly been an uphill battle for the actor, but he has resolved to
never give up. “The real blow came when I did some research and found that I’m
not the only one who had to live like that. People are shrunk every day
throughout the world, but it’s never talked about because we don’t see these
people. We probably step on them on our way into the kitchen, we shred them when
we mow the lawn.”</p>
<p class="MsoNormal">Now, DeVito dedicates the part of his life <i>not</i>
associated with acting, to seeking justice. “I’m sticking up for the little
guy, literally. I want every little squirt banging away inside their parent’s
jar, thinking all hope is lost, to know that there’s always tomorrow. Through
our pain, but also through our perseverance, we are all connected, together as
one. It’s a small world after all.”<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal"><i style="background-color: #fdfffc; font-family: Cardo; font-size: 17.6px;"><a href="http://www.blakedeppe.com/" style="color: #134f5c; text-decoration-line: none;">Click here </a>to read more articles.</i></p>Blake Xhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14474179291529221773noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4066450287048980334.post-58562780477682903362021-01-22T09:57:00.002-08:002021-01-22T10:01:55.677-08:00Balloon animals facing extinction<p>“If we don’t act now, the balloon animal population is going
to pop.” This was the urgent message of Rubberto Pagliacci, Executive Director of
the Balloon Animal Defense Agency & Broader Organization for Objective
Management (BADA-BOOM). His words come at a time when balloon animals worldwide
are on the verge of extinction. Pagliacci was very sad, and attributes the
massive drop in balloon animal production to the pandemic currently sweeping
the globe.</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiCrAmAm-fZ_-PeEccJsNhROgZAtbfbVJ88rkDZlUybfpYEM1wyu-LUSr3Q7V8UA1STT_5v5KySESElBWryyGWBnTLwSnixfu7HuDlcVQjIr78euIu-yfBCjUZ_iX5EOzoBhcIshaD4Yb8l/s1024/10clown0814.jpg" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="710" data-original-width="1024" height="278" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiCrAmAm-fZ_-PeEccJsNhROgZAtbfbVJ88rkDZlUybfpYEM1wyu-LUSr3Q7V8UA1STT_5v5KySESElBWryyGWBnTLwSnixfu7HuDlcVQjIr78euIu-yfBCjUZ_iX5EOzoBhcIshaD4Yb8l/w400-h278/10clown0814.jpg" title="A group of clown workers check on the health of a wild herd of balloon animals." width="400" /></a></div><p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">“Notice I said production,” said Pagliacci. “Because the
problem with balloon animals is they cannot naturally reproduce. They must be
made, and the many embattled clowns currently out of work due to the pandemic
are unable to fill this sudden and steep deficit. Due to social distancing
rules, they are unable to perform at children’s birthday parties, and many have
simply been fired because they are unable to fill balloon animal quotas. There
has also been a recent bout of asthma throughout the clown community, rendering
many of them unable to blow up new animals even at their homes.”</p>
<p class="MsoNormal">Even worse, some say that balloon animals kept in people’s
houses will not solve the problem. “They won’t last long,” said Kirk Du Soleil,
Director of the BADA-BOOM Animal Welfare Division. “Balloon animals do not fare
well when kept in captivity, and should float freely in the wild where they
belong. We’ve seen historically that balloon animals kept in cages at carnivals
have developed severe emotional problems. They are not pets, and sooner or
later one of them is going to explode.”</p>
<p class="MsoNormal">“It’s a massive problem,” said Pagliacci. “Right now, the
balloon animal population is numbered at around one to two hundred, and even
those numbers are inflated. Anyone who argues that this issue is being
exaggerated is simply full of hot air.”</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgIruRj3Dz3nMZ18hc6aaihLmQYswKViOq_nPFkyMpmPtabUlG_Y1yikvbcE1mH9kWXxCdz0bQgfu3awSl56wqdYNlDzkYVEw2JLBfOuFtTswxFOOp4OSg6Pi5RTTrSbWyxa7SM4W2IgwFu/s600/3385.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="360" data-original-width="600" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgIruRj3Dz3nMZ18hc6aaihLmQYswKViOq_nPFkyMpmPtabUlG_Y1yikvbcE1mH9kWXxCdz0bQgfu3awSl56wqdYNlDzkYVEw2JLBfOuFtTswxFOOp4OSg6Pi5RTTrSbWyxa7SM4W2IgwFu/w400-h240/3385.jpg" title="A clown checks a city street, looking for signs of balloon animals." width="400" /></a></div><p></p><p class="MsoNormal">One of those very critics is Ron Helium, a staff writer for <i>Balloon
Benders’ Weekly</i>. He claims the balloon animal population will not only survive,
but will experience a resurgence when clowns start getting vaccinated and
return to work. “Organizations like BADA-BOOM want people to donate money to
them, so they make outlandish claims like this to stir up fear, when in reality
this whole balloon animal issue is simply being blown out of proportion.”</p>
<p class="MsoNormal">Pagliacci refutes these claims, and warns that there is
dangerous historic precedent for the likelihood that balloon animals will
simply vanish forever. “Remember what happened to the ancient balloon people,”
he said sternly. “The <i>balloon sapiens</i> were a powerful race who once
flourished throughout the world, in all shapes, sizes, and colors, competing
with <i>homo sapiens</i> for dominance. Then, with the beginning of the
industrial era, they all floated away from the Earth, never to be seen again.”</p>
<p class="MsoNormal">Kirk Du Soleil agreed, stating, “If we don’t do something soon,
balloon animals won’t be here in another 10 to 20 years. Humanity will descend
into utter chaos, and eventually collapse. Ignoring this issue is like taking a
needle to the whole planet. Sooner or later, it’s going to burst.”<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal"><i><a href="http://www.blakedeppe.com">Click here </a>to read more articles.</i></p>Blake Xhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14474179291529221773noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4066450287048980334.post-26757643643180132021-01-22T08:06:00.003-08:002021-01-22T11:57:03.340-08:00National Guard to deploy fleet of Tom Cruises to enforce mask wearing<p>In a Friday interview with Mann Commandly, chief of the National
Guard Bureau, the press learned that the military reserve force is taking
additional measures to ensure the safety of the public during this pandemic.
Most prominent among these includes a decision to deploy a fleet of Tom Cruises
to enforce the wearing of face masks. The choice was made after a particularly
angry Tom Cruise successfully intimidated an entire film set into donning the
protective cloths, as well as committing to social distancing and joining a
popular cult. </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg2iv4xzxvLSuCkuPbtefr7WZm1kTeuTqKK8cgDTftCtcO8T5pgW8lYx3jnXg9iI0KTFHGw-l1UCO1rGP9d-Xa1txNTePqwbkMmTgG-lSc6Pj59hxm-BFHhWqWsch2G6pn4t8dcji4_t6uT/s640/tcruisescience5.jpg" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="480" data-original-width="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg2iv4xzxvLSuCkuPbtefr7WZm1kTeuTqKK8cgDTftCtcO8T5pgW8lYx3jnXg9iI0KTFHGw-l1UCO1rGP9d-Xa1txNTePqwbkMmTgG-lSc6Pj59hxm-BFHhWqWsch2G6pn4t8dcji4_t6uT/s320/tcruisescience5.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><p></p><p class="MsoNormal">Though the Joint Chiefs of Staff initially considered the
undertaking an impossible mission, they later learned that the Church of
Scientology can readily produce as many as 500,000 Tom Cruises, ready to be
deployed at a moment’s notice. “We actually began this effort back in ’87, when
we initiated the Tom Cruise Cloning Project,” said church leader Cosmo Spacely.
“Back then, we had minted an initial set of 100 Tom Cruises, to great critical
acclaim and success. When we released them into nature, they quickly became productive
members of society who ensured the safety of the American people, and enticed
the public to support our humble little religion.”</p>
<p class="MsoNormal">When asked about one malfunctioning Tom Cruise, however,
Spacely proved to be evasive. The faulty Cruise in question generated controversy
back in 2019, when it could be seen screaming from the top of the Burj Khalifa
in Dubai. The Cruise had scaled the massive building, hammering erratically on
windows during its ascent and putting a fright in residents of the building. “Look,”
said Spacely, “that’s all based on hearsay and when that Cruise was retrieved and
returned to our factory, we saw no signs that it was defective. We’re convinced
it was putting on some sort of performance act for an upcoming film.”</p>
<p class="MsoNormal">Some Tom Cruises had entered the testing phase last week,
and could be seen flying over major U.S. cities, scanning the streets below for
anyone in violation of mask wearing policies. “One of them reprimanded me personally
for wearing my mask beneath my nose,” said Kay D. Homes, a Los Angeles
restaurant worker and aspiring actress. “It was really quite something, and it
taught me the value of Scientology – I mean, mask wearing. After I’d pulled up
my mask, the Cruise exclaimed, ‘Woo!’ and flew off toward the Griffith
Observatory. These Cruises are American patriots and I look forward to seeing
them throughout our country.”</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi2Zb7pc0jkyLAWXGalfXFvN-38KiME9lLF9kdjWAAZUq5IRlxwS-8kjX6_3iDg0dKH5jddfRECZ4cjpR3KHo-XBYC8OM1lprf4KHTKCwisPX8AObg2Nh_ViOCI7JZ0J21Tw_jtEtX5qij5/s450/126066_w_450_450.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="450" data-original-width="450" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi2Zb7pc0jkyLAWXGalfXFvN-38KiME9lLF9kdjWAAZUq5IRlxwS-8kjX6_3iDg0dKH5jddfRECZ4cjpR3KHo-XBYC8OM1lprf4KHTKCwisPX8AObg2Nh_ViOCI7JZ0J21Tw_jtEtX5qij5/s320/126066_w_450_450.jpg" /></a></div><p></p><p class="MsoNormal">National Guard Bureau chief Commandly says the fleet could
be deployed in full as soon as Monday. “We’ve had great results,” he said. “I’ve
been given some sort of book on Dianetics which I’m told will help me fully
understand the ultimate mission of the Tom Cruise collective. It will be looked
over by the President next week as we roll out this campaign to establish the
mass wearing of masks. The Church of Scientology will be working with us to
ensure the success of this great undertaking. Honestly, I couldn’t be happier
about it.”</p>
<p class="MsoNormal">The original Tom Cruise is expected to formally make the
announcement this Sunday, when he will attend a charity fundraising webinar for
the Church at a furniture store in Brooklyn. Called the Cruise Couch Dance-Off,
it is expected to attract celebrities including Oprah and Joe Pesci. Viewers
will attend online through a link provided by the Fun Good Time Scientology
Club via Facebook.</p>
<p class="MsoNormal">“I really want a lot of people to attend,” Cruise said in a
Tweet last week. “Are you dedicated to ending this pandemic and ensuring the domination
of the Church of Scientology over our nation? Then show me the money!”<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal"><i style="background-color: #fdfffc; font-family: Cardo; font-size: 17.6px;"><a href="http://www.blakedeppe.com/" style="color: #134f5c; text-decoration-line: none;">Click here </a>to read more articles.</i></p>Blake Xhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14474179291529221773noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4066450287048980334.post-65365570170934492482020-11-01T15:17:00.001-08:002020-11-01T15:21:40.788-08:00Home of the bookless: Why don’t Americans read?<p>It’s long been my personal belief that you can ascertain the
overall intellectual makeup of a populace by determining its literacy rate. The
majority of people I’ve known who are in my age range (I’m 31, at the time of
writing) either show no interest in reading, have never read books for
pleasure, or believe that reading is a waste of time. That being said, it varies
by area. My home town in New Jersey, along with its surrounding area, was
readerless more often than not; the closest book stores were in other towns
closer to the city, and the local library was often empty save for people using
the Internet. Conversely, in Chicago, there are six bookstores in my
neighborhood alone.</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjXI1Z_Af73-JlN1mPZxcd5rLsmf62f5dxMw1tIjTN_OXqauoOF93CgBf_5wOB_WuH-QtOVRLGzX2uUNgex42W6IeoBJQ8U4nruQr7h8SDQXWE3WvYUoo_Zj1PPneGIrVbPnvOGnqnqEKf4/s1400/bdb4b7ace71ce80fd21c6d974d7d60c9.jpg" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1050" data-original-width="1400" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjXI1Z_Af73-JlN1mPZxcd5rLsmf62f5dxMw1tIjTN_OXqauoOF93CgBf_5wOB_WuH-QtOVRLGzX2uUNgex42W6IeoBJQ8U4nruQr7h8SDQXWE3WvYUoo_Zj1PPneGIrVbPnvOGnqnqEKf4/w400-h300/bdb4b7ace71ce80fd21c6d974d7d60c9.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><p></p><p class="MsoNormal">It isn’t just a matter of book availability, however. <a href="https://www.pewresearch.org/fact-tank/2019/09/26/who-doesnt-read-books-in-america/">According
to demographics obtained by the Pew Research Center</a>, 26 percent of
Americans say they have not read a book in the past year, whether in paper,
electronic, or audio form. That might not seem like much, but it’s quite a significant
number, and an increase from a prior Pew survey in 2011. This means that more
and more U.S. citizens are choosing not to read, and it’s a bit disturbing. But
let’s move on, and take a look at the people in this country who <i>can’t</i>
read, as well as those who have a hard time of it.</p>
<p class="MsoNormal">As a study conducted by the U.S. Department of Education and
the National Institute of Literacy found, <a href="https://www.huffpost.com/entry/illiteracy-rate_n_3880355">32 million
adults in the U.S. don’t know how to read</a>. <i>32 million.</i> That’s <i>one
in seven</i> grown men and women in this nation. Meanwhile, 21 percent of
adults read below a fifth grade level, and 19 percent of high school graduates
cannot read. The literacy rate in this country has not improved since then; it’s
actually taken a turn for the worse. The ripple effect of illiteracy is fraught
with its own growing problems. According to the Department of Justice, “the
link between academic failure, violence, and crime is welded to reading
failure.” As confirmation of that statement, here’s another stat for you: 70
percent of America’s prison inmates cannot read above a fourth-grade level.</p>
<p class="MsoNormal">On the other hand, let’s take a look across the pond.
European countries – particularly in Scandinavia – have much higher literacy
rates than Americans do, and people there are much more likely to do it for
enjoyment or as a frequent hobby. In Norway, Finland, and Luxembourg, 100
percent of the population is literate. Slovakia, my family’s home country, has a
literacy rate of 99.6 percent. That beats out the 86 percent rate for the U.S.,
based on data collected in a 2013 survey by the U.S. Department of Education.
Slovenia, Estonia, Belarus, Ukraine – these places also have impressively high
literacy rates. In other words, each of these countries I’ve mentioned has more
people per capita who know how to read than does the U.S.</p>
<p class="MsoNormal">This blog post is not meant to be an attack on the country in
which I live or its citizens. And yet, I can’t deny that I’m incredibly
embarrassed and disappointed, as well as worried about the intellectual future
of a society in which people don’t know when the Declaration of Independence
was signed, think Christopher Columbus discovered America, can’t tell you where
the Panama Canal is, who Julius Caesar was, or name the capital of their own
state. Most infuriating about this all is that things were not always this way.
There has been a significant dumbing down of U.S. culture over the past several
decades. In 1960, the illiteracy rate here was 2.4 percent, according to the
U.S. Department of Commerce. Now it’s 14.</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgo1JKT50gMDs9DME5087QIImUPsizohzj9yF8oubnsDfjWJtyMIJaeSaqwm8fdOhLQ3RA_WisAf8xeA-CcrItPbOSpvfnnlpWsvMIRvMV3wuQDqb6Tt56w8j95zAG-hqDR5AKYm3ebe0Oh/s2048/91QJEvXMxFL.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1319" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgo1JKT50gMDs9DME5087QIImUPsizohzj9yF8oubnsDfjWJtyMIJaeSaqwm8fdOhLQ3RA_WisAf8xeA-CcrItPbOSpvfnnlpWsvMIRvMV3wuQDqb6Tt56w8j95zAG-hqDR5AKYm3ebe0Oh/w258-h400/91QJEvXMxFL.jpg" width="258" /></a></div><p></p><p class="MsoNormal">According to journalist Charles Pierce, who wrote <i>Idiot
America</i>, “the rise of idiot America today represents the breakdown of a
consensus that the pursuit of knowledge is a good. It also represents the
ascendancy of the notion that the people whom we should trust the least are the
people who best know what they’re talking about.” This is very much in line
with reality, with people left and right (no political allusions intended)
claiming that “climate change is a hoax,” or “the moon landing was faked.” To say
nothing of the Flat Earthers, the “Targeted Individuals," the New World
Order fanatics, so on and so forth. We are living in a scary time, in which
scientific fact is disregarded by a portion of the populace who do not
understand it, or who are simply incapable of doing so. I mean, when people
believe that space travel never happened, that carbon dating is “wrong,” and
that there’s no such thing as evolution, how can one possibly argue or reason
with a person like that?</p>
<p class="MsoNormal">There’s no getting around it; the fact that so many people
cannot, will not, do not read, plays an <i>enormous</i> role in ignorance and lack
of education. 18 percent of Americans believe that the sun revolves around the
Earth. During Obama’s term as president, 29 percent of U.S. citizens could not
identify Joe Biden as the vice-president. 56 percent of Americans think that
vaccinations cause autism.</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjNa2s2uhOPQSvLuRv-LTDU9eXFYiN0Jla7FqwqBfyidBikt8xHPlO272kU0XhAMy7nQ0CYn_5sjVYas_TELiTXpkt1f3QRr3X1AirXNYxLcpT5tfYgFmm_YwqENHI9Tw7WhCnuBl0sOB15/s800/teenage-girl-holding-smart-phone-captures-hypnotizing-rotating-spiral-teenager-girl-hypnotized-swirling-spiral-131285802.jpg" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="534" data-original-width="800" height="268" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjNa2s2uhOPQSvLuRv-LTDU9eXFYiN0Jla7FqwqBfyidBikt8xHPlO272kU0XhAMy7nQ0CYn_5sjVYas_TELiTXpkt1f3QRr3X1AirXNYxLcpT5tfYgFmm_YwqENHI9Tw7WhCnuBl0sOB15/w400-h268/teenage-girl-holding-smart-phone-captures-hypnotizing-rotating-spiral-teenager-girl-hypnotized-swirling-spiral-131285802.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><p></p><p class="MsoNormal">We should not aspire to ignorance. We should aspire to being
well-read, to being informed, and to conducting ourselves with logic and
discernment. We should hone our skills of research and reasoning, to act upon
facts and rational thought, not emotional triggers, prejudice-based
conclusions, or conspiratorial groupthink. We should crave knowledge, not shun
it in favor of regressive macho, know-nothing mentalities. However, at the risk
of being controversial, I would add that my generation in particular – those “Millennials”
who so many older folks see as being so advanced and forward-thinking, are
major contributors to The Ignorance Problem. They’ve become too engrossed in
their smartphones, too welded to social media, too reliant upon Google. They’re
accustomed to instant gratification, which has too often replaced their
self-reliance and the impetus to sharpen proper analysis and investigation
skills.</p>
<p class="MsoNormal">I’ve said this time and again, but I encourage people to
open a book. Whether it’s Shakespeare or Neil Gaiman. Whether it’s a novel or a
comic book. Whether it’s a technical manual or a book on language. Whether it’s
fiction or non. Whether it’s a story or poetry. A single book or a series of
novels. Fan-fiction or song lyrics. <i>Anything</i>. Don’t be like one of the
ignorance-addled characters in <i>Fahrenheit 451;</i> be like the man who wrote
it. Remember: The only knowledge that can hurt you is the knowledge you don’t
have.<o:p></o:p></p>Blake Xhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14474179291529221773noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4066450287048980334.post-82184322831462427942020-10-25T19:32:00.002-07:002020-10-25T19:54:17.033-07:00Why epic fantasy is essential, not escapist<p>I’m currently re-reading the first three books in <i>The
Stormlight Archive, </i>a series of epic fantasy novels by Brandon Sanderson,
in preparation for the fourth and newest volume, <i>Rhythm of War</i>. Its
expected release date is November 17. These are big door-stopper novels coming
in somewhere between 1,200 and 1,300 pages each. Just the way I like them. But
as far as my astute and observant eyes can tell, I’m in the minority here in
several ways. Firstly, I read and own actual books – hardcovers and paperbacks
alike, rather than downloading content on an Amazon Kindle or some other
e-reader. Furthermore, I don’t know a lot of people who read fantasy (I can
count the friends who do so on one hand), and of those who <i>are</i>
interested, many prefer a much less daunting and comfortable page count of 300-700
pages, or thereabouts.</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh2ySLM-yrqddpTYzuIQEyuxPxt8hVsFTcQsgpwT-MVnE_p0CL_CR6UT6UST5pGcVqjOtrQD7iAK9a7ILdV6qfwRtcNB3fpeQ-LqbUKhQKUexw2PFpQ-QF7SDyMIGjp0D-Zs8BWJYZY3lu5/s600/Way-of-Kings.jpg" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="600" data-original-width="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh2ySLM-yrqddpTYzuIQEyuxPxt8hVsFTcQsgpwT-MVnE_p0CL_CR6UT6UST5pGcVqjOtrQD7iAK9a7ILdV6qfwRtcNB3fpeQ-LqbUKhQKUexw2PFpQ-QF7SDyMIGjp0D-Zs8BWJYZY3lu5/s16000/Way-of-Kings.jpg" /></a></div><p></p><p class="MsoNormal">I’m just glad to know that I have friends who are fans of
the genre. It’s something that, as both a reader and aspiring author, I find
myself surreptitiously looking for in people – trying to discern their reading
habits and their fiction genres of choice. I live with an older roommate who is
an avid reader, though much of his personal library is political non-fiction or
history, with a few science books and perhaps a handful of mystery novels
thrown into the mix. A coworker of mine likes political history and philosophy,
though he will also enjoy graphic novels and some of the more popular fantasy
novels; he even has a friend who has self-published a short book in the genre.
If I look beyond people in my immediate orbit, such as musicians and artists
who I closely follow, I’m always pleased to see Cristina Scabbia of Lacuna Coil
reading <i>Batman</i> or <i>Star Wars</i> comics, or Brittney Slayes of Unleash
the Archers reading <i>The Witcher</i> series.</p>
<p class="MsoNormal">Fantasy is one of the most important – and simultaneously
one of the most disregarded – forms of literary fiction. More than that, it’s
one of the most influential cultural underpinnings of Western society. Our very
language has been shaped by countless decades of epic tales; the word “muggle”
has now officially entered the Oxford English Dictionary, and “dracarys” (High
Valyrian for “fire”) is remembered and known by a wide range of people. Is
there anyone who doesn’t know what a Hobbit is? Or a Jedi? Or Excalibur? Maybe
that one weird uncle you have who binge-watches The Weather Channel and likes
to show everyone his stamp collection. But different strokes for different folks.
Hell, as the proliferation of epic fantasy continues to migrate onto streaming
platforms like Netflix and Prime, more people will know what a Mandalorian is,
and be well acquainted with the term Witcher.</p>
<p class="MsoNormal">Still, there are many out there who find the genre to be
crass, uncouth; the stuff of childish pastimes. Some stuffed shirts, scholars,
and others with a myopic, clinical worldview might tell you to put the toys
away and grow up. It’s a flawed stereotype that outsiders have regarding zealous
adherents to fantasy fandoms. To them, a comic convention or a Magic: The
Gathering game night is not a pop culturally charged campfire around which
friends can bond and share their joy in captivating fictional worlds, but
rather, something silly and foolish – a collection of supposed man-children
abandoning the stifling beleaguerment of drink-the-Kool-Aid-academia and
exhaustive political squabble. When the truth is, fantasy has long been among
the cornerstones of popular culture, consumed and appreciated by men, women,
and children alike.</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjOeYFPRQfVFql4HdDoB2PoWHqqlbx9Nyss5LlqQtY4KycHHlbb4hzNnxgS-gCpX4QmQwLJF-VgTPkpFBCzfzitJCZDeTIz82epoihwXuX28lXNEXIhmPiSrwXLUGRUf5lJ-0JcwyD1UUNC/s2000/Alan_Moore.png" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1270" data-original-width="2000" height="254" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjOeYFPRQfVFql4HdDoB2PoWHqqlbx9Nyss5LlqQtY4KycHHlbb4hzNnxgS-gCpX4QmQwLJF-VgTPkpFBCzfzitJCZDeTIz82epoihwXuX28lXNEXIhmPiSrwXLUGRUf5lJ-0JcwyD1UUNC/w400-h254/Alan_Moore.png" width="400" /></a></div><p></p><p class="MsoNormal">And yet, the naysayers continue their diatribes, sometimes
even from within the very circle of fantasy authorship itself. In a recent
interview, <i>Watchmen</i> creator Alan Moore derided superhero comics and
films (presumably with the exception of his own because it’s like, you know,
postmodern and sociopolitically conscious). Moore claimed that superhero films
in particular have “blighted culture,” that they should be for children, and
that attempts to make them palatable to or directed toward adults are “grotesque.”
What Moore failed to address, and what he should very well know, is that from
the 1930s to the 1950s, many comic books were extremely violent, and certainly
not the stuff of childhood consumption. Many did not cease being dark and
gritty until the advent of the Comics Code Authority, which censored and
effectively ended that Golden Age of Comics, reducing superheroes to relatively
innocent, youth-targeted do-gooders, rather than the morally and
philosophically complex character studies they would become a few decades
later.</p>
<p class="MsoNormal">You see, despite the integrity, intellectualism, and
narrative brilliance that so many fantasy works offer, there remains a certain
portion of society that looks upon it with disgust or embarrassment. Yet many
of them secretly crave much of what fantasy stories contain – it’s simply that,
for whatever reason, the aesthetics and many of the actual components of what
make fantasy, well, <i>fantasy</i>, are just too much for them to absorb. I don’t
think it’s even so much a case of people not being able to suspend their disbelief;
rather, I think there’s something about it that just makes them feel as though
they’re doing something wrong. I think it also has something to do with people’s
perceptions of their own reputations. I notice that people in academic circles,
or those who have careers in very real, material areas such as law or medicine…these
people in particular seem to regard the elements of a fantasy narrative as
something not to be indulged in openly, or else something that would render them
socially weird or out of place, like a businessman happily walking the streets
with an untied shoe.</p>
<p class="MsoNormal">Of those who <i>do</i> consume fantasy but don’t wear it on
their sleeve, and seem to feel almost guilty after tuning into an episode of <i>Game
of Thrones</i>, or pushing aside Steinbeck and Hemingway in exchange for
Tolkien and Martin, they almost always call the genre as a whole “escapism.”
For some, it’s a way to separate and compartmentalize the genre, so that it won’t
somehow break free of those constraints and bleed into other areas of their
lives. For others, it’s a defense mechanism, a way to justify their joy of it
while maintaining a carefully crafted outward image of apparent maturity and
sophistication. “I may read <i>The Lord of the Rings</i> or watch <i>The Empire
Strikes Back</i> on occasion – you know, they’re cute little stories,” said Mr.
Bourgeois, sniffing importantly. “But I’d much rather watch this Saturday Night
Live clip where celebrities make fun of politicians for the 500th time, than to
be caught dead at Comic-Con.”</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgO1ThpC3YO6O1wtKd06Nq9pSl_y9BA8C4l3IlhwfjW4IDKjLpcxKopnqzKxb8SWUq4KA-2jTvt0WqxBvD2TPO5AeVDBoyaYDkBZbh88IvN4GWaej2nnDjH4IryKRO8pKvxt6Xyo8-sGjUn/s1372/star-wars-the-rise-of-skywalker-theatrical-poster-1000_ebc74357.jpeg" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1372" data-original-width="891" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgO1ThpC3YO6O1wtKd06Nq9pSl_y9BA8C4l3IlhwfjW4IDKjLpcxKopnqzKxb8SWUq4KA-2jTvt0WqxBvD2TPO5AeVDBoyaYDkBZbh88IvN4GWaej2nnDjH4IryKRO8pKvxt6Xyo8-sGjUn/w416-h640/star-wars-the-rise-of-skywalker-theatrical-poster-1000_ebc74357.jpeg" width="416" /></a></div><p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">Here’s why “escapism” – whether used as pejorative or a simple
label with no malicious intent – is inaccurate. Fantasy, like any other genre
of speculative fiction, does not exist in a vacuum, and to say that indulging
in its narratives is a way of somehow escaping or ignoring reality, is to imply
that it does. Actually, much like the logo on your t-shirt, the drink in your
glass, and the houseplant near your window, there were and always will be
demonstrable, material preconditions for all works of fiction, no matter how
fantastical. An author's work is the product of a multitude of internal
cognitive processes and external influences, all thrown together like so many
ingredients in some grand recipe, cooked in a stew of inspiration and wonder,
and thrown onto paper to whet the appetites of enthusiastic readers who have
just finished destroying the One Ring on Mount Doom and are now looking for
their next mental and emotional adventure.</p>
<p class="MsoNormal">A single fantasy novel was shaped by – and in turn, will
also shape – events and fundamental aspects of the real world that you and I
live in. No matter how many dragons there are, every spark of every idea comes
from the life and world that we actively live in and engage with. To categorize
it as somehow different, or in an area all its own where we must only visit
fleetingly, and with nervous glances at anyone who we fear might condemn our “unrefined
tastes” (re: lack of pretentiousness), is to practice absurdity. Fantasy is
owed a high position among the great influential elements of the arts – after all,
it was one of the first genres ever written. Ask Odysseus, or Gilgamesh, or
Macbeth. Ask God.</p>
<p class="MsoNormal">Finally, though, it seems that fantasy is getting its due. I
can’t put much stock in my personal hope that more people will turn to fantasy
literature – or literature in general, but I can attest to the growing
dominance of the genre in television and film. Though television itself is an
increasingly outdated term – again, in recent years when it comes to popular
fantasy, Netflix, Amazon, and the like are on the tip of everyone’s tongues. So
why, then, as the genre spirals its way to an epic crescendo of fandom, do just
as many people seem to be getting their backs up against the wall about the
whole thing? Perhaps it’s because they’ve been trained to turn instead to its
polar opposite: Epic reality. Now, perhaps more than ever, we are all slammed
with reality – on every smartphone, every computer or tablet screen, and in nearly
every conversation.</p>
<p class="MsoNormal">You can’t open Facebook or YouTube without becoming an
unwilling participant in the 24/7 news cycle – stories of the worst aspects of
humanity come to fruition flooding your home page. Another mass shooting. More
people than ever falling to poverty and homelessness. The pandemic and all the
lives it’s claimed. These are all important things – we must stay informed and
vigilant, now perhaps more than ever before. But we used to consume our news in
an hour, maybe two, per day – staying educated and apprised of the problems and
the tragedies by necessity, but not spending six hours a day wringing our hands
over every single aspect of every single horrible thing, and then proceeding to
argue endlessly with anonymous people online who we’ll never meet about the
very things we now live in ceaseless stress and fear over.</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh6xszbgx6KBx63527q85SVcClrJgFuUy26fuO0v0J9VR3EaaruCGKUN6Bwsyw4_ltKpE-ahT368gb1c5R6mkL4FnB0Jd8PSL1c4qiAM16oCDsdtWprUja54HhNgIAyTzVi7hdbZZ9keOEN/s600/5d81fb0a6a1a384f1f4a7917-large.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="600" data-original-width="600" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh6xszbgx6KBx63527q85SVcClrJgFuUy26fuO0v0J9VR3EaaruCGKUN6Bwsyw4_ltKpE-ahT368gb1c5R6mkL4FnB0Jd8PSL1c4qiAM16oCDsdtWprUja54HhNgIAyTzVi7hdbZZ9keOEN/w400-h400/5d81fb0a6a1a384f1f4a7917-large.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">How many times do our minds switch off and we scroll,
dead-eyed, through the same news feed we just scrolled through, re-reading the
same news byte, replaying the same video clip, that we saw five times already?
What further knowledge can we gain by plumming every corner of every social
media app for every perspective, argument, and/or retelling of every piece of
news? Interspersed, of course, with well placed ads for Burrito Blankets and
Dill Pickle-Flavored Lip Balm. Conspicuous consumption much? We are seemingly
engaged in a constant, neverending stream of Non-Fiction, but the plot is cliché
and repetitive, the featured characters are plutocrats and tyrants with whom
the reader cannot possibly empathize, and all the death scenes are tasteless,
tragic, and far too close to home.</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhB7OiXA_uC6VptxQGjpFOQ5vwZR0Hc-ZEQQbsMLc5IVcePBShlLcjLRILp-iJwYBDkaETFeEwhpNvrP7U0Pnk2ZMC5SAf16DmCupphl5Yi2YdkgvmXH3EHj_JOY_wpCkZBbjP7KiSPEniy/s1830/81iZ0r1HvmL.jpg" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1830" data-original-width="1400" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhB7OiXA_uC6VptxQGjpFOQ5vwZR0Hc-ZEQQbsMLc5IVcePBShlLcjLRILp-iJwYBDkaETFeEwhpNvrP7U0Pnk2ZMC5SAf16DmCupphl5Yi2YdkgvmXH3EHj_JOY_wpCkZBbjP7KiSPEniy/w306-h400/81iZ0r1HvmL.jpg" width="306" /></a></div><br /><p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">When people want to distance themselves with that, they go
and Keep Up with the Kardashians or watch people make really bad 90-day
marriage decisions for money. Ah, yes, reality TV. The pinnacle of
entertainment. If only Shakespeare had put aside those silly plays and scribed
breathtaking narratives about the day-to-day goings on regarding the people in
his social circle. What did Bethilda <i>really</i> mean when she made that
offhanded remark about Mafalda’s elderberry pie? And will Isaiah find out about
Esmerelda’s torrid affair with Nathaniel? Now, if he had written epic reality
works like that, he’d really have been on to something. Look, I’m neither
condemning these types of shows nor denying people their right to indulge in
them as they please. But for this to become one of the hallmarks of our current
zeitgeist, in which people commend these shows while in the same breath mocking
shows with superheroes or dragons…is it really so much to ask that people
reassess their views on fantasy?</p>
<p class="MsoNormal">I can’t deny that there isn’t some inherent bias on my part.
It’s been my life’s goal to write and publish a series of epic fantasy novels,
something I’m still working diligently on. In the meanwhile, I’ve probably
become “that guy” who’s “always writing that one novel he’s been working on for
15 years.” But slow and steady wins the race. Regardless, I think that if
people just give the genre another try (it’s growing and evolving in some
amazing directions these days, <i>The Stormlight Archive</i> being one fine
example), they might be surprised at what they find. And then – dare I suggest
it – perhaps it’s okay to take a little pride in your love for these stories.
In these times of social distancing, maybe we can adopt the Vulcan hand salute
in place of a handshake? “Live long and prosper” is a phrase anyone can get
behind. Or you can continue to keep your copy of <i>A Dance With Dragons</i>
beneath your pillow for late night reading. I won’t tell if you won’t.<o:p></o:p></p>Blake Xhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14474179291529221773noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4066450287048980334.post-75369848389267799132020-01-10T10:52:00.002-08:002020-01-10T10:55:18.228-08:00“Don’t panic!” It’s only panic disorder<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
Short of breath. Hands unsteady. A rush of sudden fear without
explanation. It can happen when I’m sleeping. How often have I woken up at 3 or
4 a.m. with a jolt of panic, the origins of which I cannot place? Between that
and the sleep paralysis, going to bed is a dreadful thing for me; I find no
peace in my dreams and no security in my mind. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Often, the panic arrives when I’m awake. It can be at any
time of day or night. Random sudden movements or noises can set it off. It’s
happened in public – cases in which I’m walking down the street, and the beep
of a car makes me flinch, arms flailing for a second (just long enough to
provide some embarrassment, and once or twice, awkward looks or chuckles from
passersby; I’m glad my crippling anxiety can be someone else’s entertainment).
A person suddenly emerging from a store entrance can also have this effect. Or
a loud clink from construction work. I can’t predict what’s going to cause the
panic to emerge. There isn’t really any specific sort of pattern.</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEitWw31nz2Y-D_x5IU2lV_OVAe3xjpJpYbjA_jUceVgVcFUMa9fkdh93efiRmaUFozOcwb-DhxyYDvPZgsxmaDuaDaejTWJb8k30PVM1BJmy4ZnveEdExQRpn173nWItPN3_SeFtdajCA80/s1600/Goodone.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="878" data-original-width="832" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEitWw31nz2Y-D_x5IU2lV_OVAe3xjpJpYbjA_jUceVgVcFUMa9fkdh93efiRmaUFozOcwb-DhxyYDvPZgsxmaDuaDaejTWJb8k30PVM1BJmy4ZnveEdExQRpn173nWItPN3_SeFtdajCA80/s320/Goodone.jpg" width="303" /></a></div>
<br /><o:p></o:p>
<div class="MsoNormal">
But there, at least, there are triggers. It’s more
disturbing to me when it happens for no reason at all. I can be happily typing
away like I’m doing right now, or watching a movie on my laptop, or folding
laundry. And suddenly, like an old and very personal nemesis, it’s back again.
I clutch my chest as another panic attack hits, the world swims hazily in front
of my eyes like water circling a drain, and for the briefest moment, I know for
certain that some kind of horrible impending doom is at hand.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I’ve been diagnosed with panic disorder. I have medication
for it, but doctors are hesitant to give out a lot of potentially habit-forming
medication, so I have a non-refillable prescription of 30 pills. I’m supposed
to space them out, to take them only when I really need them. The problem is, I
feel like I need them all the time (but I don’t lean on them much; I’ve still
got 26 pills left). Between panic attacks, I’m almost in a constant state of
fear and dread, and I don’t know why. Mercifully, there are periods of time
where that feeling just goes away. Don’t get me wrong, I can sometimes have
weeks and weeks of happiness, and I suppose, a sense of relative calmness
(though I rarely feel entirely tranquil).<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I never used to be like this. It all began – truly began,
from what I can remember – around 2016 or so. I feel like living in a big city
is conducive to my panic attacks, and does play a role. Prior to moving to
Chicago in 2009, I lived in a town with forests, farms, and mountains, where
you’d see a car on the road maybe once every 20 minutes. Transitioning from
that to city life has been anything but smooth. It’s comparable to diving into
ice water.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Since last year, I feel like whatever it is I’m going
through has worsened. I now sometimes feel a sense of removal from myself, as
if I’m outside of myself. More than a few times, I’ve sat at my computer and
felt a strange sensation, like my spirit was being pushed out of my body; I’ve
felt like my “presence” or “essence” was behind my body, by the bed, five feet
away from where I was sitting. The first time it happened it scared the shit
out of me. I still find it disturbing. I don’t believe I’ve talked about this online
until now.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
For the past week or so, my mind has felt so overwhelmed from
what I’m going through that I haven’t been able to pursue the things I’m
passionate about – everything from writing to working on my YouTube channel. I’m
trying to get my head back in the game, but it feels like an uphill battle
right now.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I just want to feel better. I don’t want to be eating dinner
and suddenly drop my fork and jolt upward out of my chair, because my roommate’s
dog barked. I don’t want to draw bemused eyes upon me when I’m walking outside,
because a sudden police siren made me jump. I don’t want to wake up and feel a
random, fatalistic sense of terror, an emotion that seems to have no
conceivable reason for even being in my mind. I don’t know why this is
happening to me, and every time I fight it, I feel like I get punished for it;
the feeling returns, seemingly ten times stronger.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I love life and there’s so much I want to do. I want to see
the world. I want to finish my manuscript and possibly see it published someday
as a novel. I want to get back to my normal schedule as a YouTuber. I want to
meet new people and not mentally debate going outside because there’s an
irrational sense of danger in my heart. I just want things to change.<o:p></o:p></div>
<br /></div>
Blake Xhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14474179291529221773noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4066450287048980334.post-349076343527857212019-12-30T15:40:00.002-08:002019-12-30T15:40:32.076-08:00A new traveler's guide to traveling<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
I’m not exactly a seasoned traveler, but I have been
traveling on a semi-frequent basis for the last 8 years. I’ve picked up a few
things along the way, and every time I go on a trip, whether it’s to Paris or
Prague or New York or New Orleans, I always ask myself why I haven’t written or
filmed a little travel guide yet. So I decided it was finally time. This post
will be available for everyone to see – followers of this blog and my YouTube
channel alike – although Patrons may get a first glimpse.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The tips and tricks that follow are based on my personal
experiences and may not be best for everyone. In addition, I offer some advice
that I really hope will be of help and guidance to my friends or anyone
interested in traveling abroad.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjYw4LPUhmc59RWwME8ATTgq6q-H2GBrGgFVMHRyCWQng1PkS0Y9wFbeMsRmsit0xALJiw2JiTQ2P0J5sY6iHAf_sJ9Uaq0hRfgj97PMfLuRBKf8d4FL0FCWlhHrp3541NWHSd-8-zJOdbs/s1600/h6.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="720" data-original-width="960" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjYw4LPUhmc59RWwME8ATTgq6q-H2GBrGgFVMHRyCWQng1PkS0Y9wFbeMsRmsit0xALJiw2JiTQ2P0J5sY6iHAf_sJ9Uaq0hRfgj97PMfLuRBKf8d4FL0FCWlhHrp3541NWHSd-8-zJOdbs/s400/h6.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b>PART 1: Preparations<o:p></o:p></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b><i>Pack light<o:p></o:p></i></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
It’s a bit of a stereotype that American travelers always
pack everything but the kitchen sink. You can easily spot them in airports and
train stations, overburdened with packs on their backs like camels, pulling
vast, cumbersome entanglements of luggage. By contrast, most European travelers
I’ve seen pack a single bag with a few sets of clothes and the essentials, and
that’s enough. It’s a great example to follow. A friend once gave me good advice,
which I’ll now pass on here: After you’ve packed, reopen your backpack and
review its contents. Take half of it out and leave it behind. Then open up your
wallet and double what’s in there.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b><i>Bring plug adapters<o:p></o:p></i></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Most travel websites seem not to cover this issue, which I
find perplexing, since I know several people who have encountered this problem.
Depending on the country, there are different types of outlets than the ones we
use in the U.S. Accordingly, you’ll need to buy an adapter to attach to the
plugs of whatever electronic device you want to use. France, the United
Kingdom, and Australia, for instance, all use completely different kinds of
electrical outlets. Try buying a universal adapter. You can get them on Amazon,
and some airlines (like Aer Lingus) carry them as well, so they can be
purchased on board your flight.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b><i>Book in advance<o:p></o:p></i></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
In my experience, the farther in advance you secure all your
tickets and reservations, the better. I’ve heard some people recommend getting
plane tickets at least 3 months in advance. I agree, but I’d go as far as to
say 5 months in advance, if possible. And there are still good and bad times to
do that, depending on tourist season, weather, etc. Train tickets should also
be purchased ahead of time (at least, if you want to have a seat; I made this mistake
during my train ride from Berlin to Prague and had to stand for the entire
trip!). One can even benefit from booking tickets for tourist attractions way
beforehand, as I did with the Paris Catacombs.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b><i>Be aware of what’s going on<o:p></o:p></i></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Live and learn, right? I should have done a bit more research
regarding the strikes in Paris when I visited in November 2019. I was just
barely able to get back home before the airlines – and effectively, the entire
city – shut down. Labor strikes are much more common in Europe than in the
U.S., so get updated on what’s taking place in the country you’ll be visiting
before you go. And it doesn’t only come down to worker demonstrations; you
should also ensure your safety when you travel, as several European cities have
suffered terror attacks and social unrest in recent years. Don’t live your life
in fear by any means! Just be vigilant and understand what’s going on before
you make your trip. If you’re visiting Ukraine or Moldova, you need to be aware
of the political situation there. It’s better to make an informed decision,
than to put yourself in unnecessary danger.</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZCa-_w3z3kJ7QZGDXQrRC_8zKYz6_4iKiiP88iZmbHwqugsXZg7B44IhbFIZnX9QgcSUnYi1BjnDjOBa2MpKNWZTAXB6EZAsbcFW8hTU7CrG3SqSXWV5m36T6SRd-609cruIYgrdvBA5J/s1600/Untitled+%252810%2529.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="887" data-original-width="895" height="396" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZCa-_w3z3kJ7QZGDXQrRC_8zKYz6_4iKiiP88iZmbHwqugsXZg7B44IhbFIZnX9QgcSUnYi1BjnDjOBa2MpKNWZTAXB6EZAsbcFW8hTU7CrG3SqSXWV5m36T6SRd-609cruIYgrdvBA5J/s400/Untitled+%252810%2529.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
<br /><o:p></o:p>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b><i>Get your apps in order<o:p></o:p></i></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I don’t recommend relying upon “smart technology” to the detriment
of your own intellect and reasoning. But I do suggest you fill your phone with
all sorts of things that will help you while you’re abroad! Both Google Translate
and Google Maps are invaluable when you need to translate a sign or menu in a
pinch, or stumble back to your hotel after several hours at a bar. Airline apps
are very handy for tracking your flight status. Quite a few European cities now
have Uber. And other travel-specific apps, like Showaround, can be a huge help
in meeting locals and getting a personalized tour of a city! A compass app can
also be helpful, and DuoLingo is an excellent tool for learning new languages.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b>PART 2: Culture<o:p></o:p></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b><i>Learn some of the language<o:p></o:p></i></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I’m not suggesting you devote all your time to becoming
fluent in Italian or Czech (though it would be good to learn a second or third
language). And it isn’t mandatory to speak another language in every country (in
Iceland and Germany, almost everyone under 30 speaks English). But in many
countries, people generally appreciate it when you take the time to at least
learn a few words and phrases in their language. It shows respect for their
culture and a willingness to socialize a little bit on their terms. The only
knowledge that can hurt you is the knowledge you don’t have, so there’s no harm
in brushing up on a handful of phrases in the language of the country you’ll be
visiting. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b><i>Don’t get offended<o:p></o:p></i></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
In Paris, people smoke everywhere, especially while they’re
having dinner. In Berlin, it’s quite common to see sex shops and brothels. Some
cities in Slovakia, like Kosice, don’t really have a “vegan option.” We live in
a diverse world with different values and cultures, and that’s a good thing.
And yet, I’ve already seen a few U.S. travelers who just can’t tolerate that
the place they’re visiting “isn’t like America.” Well...why would it be? So
please, take this advice: leave your hypersensitivity at home! What’s different
is not bad or wrong, it’s just that – different. And if you only want to live
with the values and customs of “America,” then perhaps consider not traveling
at all!</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiaQ3rblwBoginri_n-DxFlujz2gBJcbL8u6b59GL9ybENZNMIh9oCZb_e0_kKZwyJjaNPsUI7M9PMddxAJgIMqLI3voZU2K2pDz2iJpMe4H1tMgY8CPVolMWYUgedpnvTr0vhx7pDVOuQW/s1600/a123d.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiaQ3rblwBoginri_n-DxFlujz2gBJcbL8u6b59GL9ybENZNMIh9oCZb_e0_kKZwyJjaNPsUI7M9PMddxAJgIMqLI3voZU2K2pDz2iJpMe4H1tMgY8CPVolMWYUgedpnvTr0vhx7pDVOuQW/s400/a123d.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
<o:p></o:p><br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b><i>When in Rome . . .</i></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
. . . well, you know the rest. This is sort of an add-on to
the above, but it’s also good advice. Don’t be a loud, obnoxious tourist. Part
of embracing and respecting a culture is adapting to it. If the atmosphere on a
train is quiet and polite, maybe don’t scream loudly on your cellphone. If
someone sees you and says, “Bonsoir,” maybe reply to them and engage with them?
Don’t turn your nose up at a new or exotic food, try it. It’s understandable
that not <i>every</i> aspect of the country you visit will fall in line with
what you’re comfortable with, and that’s okay. But don’t be a complainer. You’ll
find that assimilating into the place you’re visiting, and really getting to know
the people and their way of life, will be the most rewarding approach you can
take. And just maybe, you’ll learn something and grow as a person, too.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b>PART 3: Safe and smart<o:p></o:p></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b><i>Watch your things<o:p></o:p></i></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Go to Slovakia or Iceland or Sweden and the overall crime
rate is much lower than the U.S. You’ll find that in some of these countries,
things are relatively safer and less violent (although, of course, the grass is
always greener; never let this be an excuse to let your guard down!). And yet,
every country is not without its own issues. Pickpocketing in Paris or Rome,
for instance, makes New York City look tame by comparison. Keep your passport
and wallet in your front pockets, especially when in large crowds or on public
transit. Keep a good grip on your phone. So on and so forth. Don’t allow
yourself to be robbed of your things due to sheer negligence!<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b><i>Carefully navigate and avoid scams<o:p></o:p></i></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
There’s the “string men” by the Eiffel Tower and the Sacre
Coeur who want to “show you a trick.” Or the taxi driver who pads your fare. Or
the cashier who is “speaking on the phone” as you hand her your credit card
(but is secretly using her camera to snap a picture of your card number). These
scams aren’t everywhere, but they are there, and you need to be aware of them.
Planned ignoring and calm disengagement are good ways to diffuse these
situations, as well as outright avoidance of areas where you spot these people.
Once again, vigilance is always important when traveling anywhere.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgswG4wTGXEUqjRM13bOYf0pIxC8ixzrYFMSqMsm4aAULHjNSh5caoXPJ4RFC29W7IC0PojyvqFw9AUfxVwJor0Ot4UysPlK20Jfu6sYApPRpmi78T0N0NFGhEcKncu2nllWsLUhnL4haA5/s1600/Old+Blake+photo+%252867%2529.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgswG4wTGXEUqjRM13bOYf0pIxC8ixzrYFMSqMsm4aAULHjNSh5caoXPJ4RFC29W7IC0PojyvqFw9AUfxVwJor0Ot4UysPlK20Jfu6sYApPRpmi78T0N0NFGhEcKncu2nllWsLUhnL4haA5/s400/Old+Blake+photo+%252867%2529.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b><i>Final tips</i></b></div>
<div class="MsoListParagraph" style="mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -.25in;">
<!--[if !supportLists]--><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;">-<span style="font: 7.0pt "Times New Roman";">
</span></span></span><!--[endif]-->Know the emergency number for whatever country
you’re visiting. Like 911 in the U.S., it varies depending on where you are. In
France, for instance, it’s 112.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: .25in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpFirst" style="mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -.25in;">
<!--[if !supportLists]--><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;">-<span style="font: 7.0pt "Times New Roman";">
</span></span></span><!--[endif]-->Get the address of the local U.S. embassy of the
country you’re visiting. If you lose your passport or get into some other kind
of trouble, this will be of huge importance.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -.25in;">
<!--[if !supportLists]--><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;">-<span style="font: 7.0pt "Times New Roman";">
</span></span></span><!--[endif]-->Recognize that most European countries use
military time. So for example, 15:00=3:00 p.m.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -.25in;">
<!--[if !supportLists]--><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;">-<span style="font: 7.0pt "Times New Roman";">
</span></span></span><!--[endif]-->You don’t always need to visit the major tourist
cities like Paris or Rome. I plan on seeing Bratislava, Krakow, Bucharest, Reykjavik,
Dubrovnik, and Ljubljana someday! Smaller does not mean it isn’t worth seeing!<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -.25in;">
<!--[if !supportLists]--><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;">-<span style="font: 7.0pt "Times New Roman";">
</span></span></span><!--[endif]-->Don’t get your debit/credit card flagged and
temporarily blocked for security by your bank; inform them beforehand of the
countries you’ll be visiting and the dates you’ll be there!<o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
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I hope this little guide has been of some help. I might
consider making an additional video in the future, going into greater detail on
this for anyone interested. We’ll see what the future brings. Good luck and
safe travels!<o:p></o:p></div>
<br /></div>
Blake Xhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14474179291529221773noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4066450287048980334.post-21281225394162715892019-12-17T07:46:00.001-08:002019-12-17T07:46:36.536-08:00It’s over 9,000: Powerscaling, the writer’s crutch<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<i>upernatural’s </i>Lucifer. <i>The Walking Dead’s </i>Negan.
<i>Breaking Bad’s </i>Gus Fring. <i>Game of Thrones’ </i>Joffrey. <i>Heroes’ </i>Sylar.
<i>The Flash’s</i> Reverse Flash. Every great story has its evil, menacing,
sadistic, worst and most dangerous of all time villain. And if done right, the
writing pulls the reader or viewer in, keeping them on the edge of their seat
as the protagonist(s) struggle against the waves of chaos and suffering
received at the hands of the ultimate nemesis. And then the great enemy is
defeated, and that’s the end. Or not. Often, the story goes on... Only, what’s left,
now that the big bad has been stopped? Well, get ready, because here comes
Ultimate Enemy 2.0! Bigger, badder, stronger, fast – I’ll stop there, you get
the point. Powerscaling. Oh, what a slippery slope...</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjU8qk7VfofK95LFNum1lQ_Zdj65I2kA-JpMksjIdXJKzMfJCZIdUxWhk2ucWb-c9lSsq9OsxOUtfFtHIYfqo3CxXOjL7FNKiCIP8RE7uaWD4eSp9cm9tuDD1qHR4EtnRpBFhdC0kYF_QnO/s1600/j96n63yw1tsx.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="404" data-original-width="720" height="223" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjU8qk7VfofK95LFNum1lQ_Zdj65I2kA-JpMksjIdXJKzMfJCZIdUxWhk2ucWb-c9lSsq9OsxOUtfFtHIYfqo3CxXOjL7FNKiCIP8RE7uaWD4eSp9cm9tuDD1qHR4EtnRpBFhdC0kYF_QnO/s400/j96n63yw1tsx.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
<o:p></o:p><br />
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It’s a compelling enough question. Say you have a series
you’re writing, and you get to Book Three, and the villain is finally defeated,
thus ending a trilogy? You’d like the series to continue, because when it comes
to the protagonists, <i>their</i> stories may not be over yet. There’s still
more to explore, there’s more to reveal. These character arcs are ongoing. But
who will become the new antagonist? You can’t simply bring back that same
villain all over again; unless you can somehow do this extremely skillfully (a
million to one odds), it would feel incredibly cheap and utterly defeat the
point of the previous story. So why not create a newer villain, even stronger
and more evil than the last? Okay, sure. But if you went out of your way to
demonstrate just <i>how</i> powerful and <i>how </i>horrific and unmatched the
last one was, won’t scaling up to an even worse enemy be a bit of a cop out?</div>
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<o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
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I can give you some examples of books and shows that have
attempted this very thing, with results decidedly mixed. <i>Game of Thrones.</i>
Once Joffrey was dead, they decided to bring in a ‘roided up, even more
sadistic version of him in the character of Ramsay. (This isn’t a criticism of
the books; George R.R. Martin may go a different route than the show did.)
Ramsay made Joffrey look like an angel in comparison, except that Ramsay felt
too over the top. His psychotic behavior felt almost comic book-ish at times,
like the writers were just trying to hammer into your head, over and over,
“Look, see how relentlessly, fiendishly sick he is? We’re trying so hard to
show you how much worse than Joffrey he is!”<o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
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However, <i>Game of Thrones</i> then rectified things by
introducing the Night King, leader of the White Walkers. This was a completely
different sort of enemy. Silent, with piercing blue eyes, an eerily calm
demeanor. The Night King was a force of nature, something that seemed almost
compelled to kill, and did so almost gracefully. There were hints of amused
malevolence, but it didn’t feel like we were simply getting a Hulked up version
of a previous villain, and that’s why the Night King is a good example of how
you can invent another enemy for your characters to face off against – <i>without</i>
reinventing the wheel.</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEijkjrfeAM1SL-T4BtdLx-ZoPKdw1KDGQAMMElyU5bbfhiI-6DXqBlgzQ0Idrlxf2AloG1y40tl_wui5K7FRUtI7MVV4SpIT8s0g1A6ax4uM0TjRhMf1vfNariKzArcOk07_6T06QE7l1sH/s1600/hPUcI61l_400x400.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="400" data-original-width="400" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEijkjrfeAM1SL-T4BtdLx-ZoPKdw1KDGQAMMElyU5bbfhiI-6DXqBlgzQ0Idrlxf2AloG1y40tl_wui5K7FRUtI7MVV4SpIT8s0g1A6ax4uM0TjRhMf1vfNariKzArcOk07_6T06QE7l1sH/s400/hPUcI61l_400x400.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
<br /><o:p></o:p>
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Think about it. You put a lot of thought and time into the
first antagonist, right? You wanted to make him a unique threat, something that
really puts your heroes’ backs up against the wall and challenges them on every
level. Now that they have faced those challenges, how would it follow logically
that essentially creating a carbon copy of that villain (however “stronger” or
more insane it may be), would be any sort of compelling or intriguing choice?
What you’d be left with is a story that hits the same beats, a “new” character
that treads the same ground as its predecessor. Readers won’t feel any real
sense of danger because there’s a vague feeling of “been there, done that.”<o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
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If you want to craft a second villain, it has to be
threatening in a way that the previous one wasn’t, and that doesn’t always
simply mean stronger or “more evil.” The first enemy was all about ultimate
power and rage? Okay. So this one can be disturbingly calm and composed, and
rather than physically threatening, this enemy’s weapon can be psychological.
Maybe he’s good at manipulating our heroes, getting inside their heads, even
getting them to act against their better impulses, essentially making them feel
forced to do morally ambiguous things in the name of stamping out this evil.<o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
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In this character, then, we see a key difference. Where the
first was terror inspiring, this one makes you panic for the protagonists in a
totally new way. What if one of them loses himself, and in fighting the evil,
becomes part of it? A “road to Hell is paved with good intentions” kind of
narrative could be great not only in putting a new spin on an enemy, but also making
a character confront a part of themelves and grow, furthering their story arc.
This is just an example, but it goes to show you, there are different ways you
can do something; as we know, insanity is doing the same thing over and over
and expecting a different result.<o:p></o:p></div>
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<i>Breaking Bad</i> is considered one of the best television
series ever made for a reason. The writers knew they would be remiss if they
simply followed up Gus’s death by introducing another “big bad.” Instead they
turned the story inward, thereby also continuing the story arc and development
of Walter and the larger narrative the series as a whole had to tell. After
killing Gus, Walter was more and more willing to take lives, acting in ways he
never had before and transitioning from “dying family man who had to do
terrible things for a good reason” into a criminal mastermind who was
arrogantly proud of his own growing reputation. In one of the most brilliant
followups to an arch-enemy story ever, the next antagonist after Gus
became...the main protagonist himself.</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiApP2Kna_93aSxR7xYPKHYECYB_hiv5xp4k9I6kjzewejpxUP-q17O6yD1xQUslnSQyNDg3I6QR6somOHOPJAqekVnU1ma8aX_MdL0oUr3wEpn_eHZ8RvPJ0rJo_FT-S8hjBP_VHH0_uk-/s1600/131216153907-02-year-in-entertainment-story-top.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="360" data-original-width="640" height="225" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiApP2Kna_93aSxR7xYPKHYECYB_hiv5xp4k9I6kjzewejpxUP-q17O6yD1xQUslnSQyNDg3I6QR6somOHOPJAqekVnU1ma8aX_MdL0oUr3wEpn_eHZ8RvPJ0rJo_FT-S8hjBP_VHH0_uk-/s400/131216153907-02-year-in-entertainment-story-top.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
<o:p></o:p><br />
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Now, let me just clarify. It isn’t wrong to powerscale, if
it works. Azazel was a great and dangerous antagonist in <i>Supernatural</i>,
but not so all-powerful that it didn’t feel believable to follow him up with a
stronger one. Lucifer was a threat that felt more cosmic, the centerpiece of
the literal Apocalypse, where Azazel was more “the monster in the shadows.” So
in cases like that, it works. It’s up to you, as the writer, to be aware of
your own antagonists’ power, their limits, and what drives them. If your heroes
stop a petty criminal in Book One, a terrorist in Book Two, and a master killer
who leads a cult of assassins in Book Three, the powerscaling is believable, so
it works. But if you spend three novels dealing with the “ultimate threat” to
the world, the most powerful enemy anyone has ever faced, don’t follow it up
with “oh, wait – this <i>new</i> villain is now the most powerful enemy anyone
has ever faced.” And if you do, don’t expect that suspension of disbelief to
hold; your readers are going to balk.</div>
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<o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
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There’s a saying that a hero is only as good as the villain,
and that’s mostly true. Batman needs the Joker. Harry Potter needs Voldemort.
So on and so forth. Put as much thought into the bad guys as the good guys, and
you shouldn’t have a problem. But just as with any other character in your
story, each antagonist must be unique and believable. And even better – get
your readers to empathize against their will with the villain. Because they’re
not simply “evil” for no reason. Most well written villains believe they’re
doing the right thing in their own minds, and just as with the good guys, they
have wants and needs, things that drive them and cause them to engage in wicked
behavior. As William Faulkner once said, “The only thing worth writing about is
the human heart in conflict with itself.” Words to live by – and write by.<o:p></o:p></div>
<br /></div>
Blake Xhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14474179291529221773noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4066450287048980334.post-20992510633223317202019-12-16T13:02:00.001-08:002019-12-16T13:03:32.658-08:00Kill 'em all: A writing tip<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<span style="float: left; font-size: 70px; font-weight: bold; line-height: 50px; margin: 0px 5px 0px 0px; padding: 0px; position: relative;">T</span><br />
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he fiction writer has the unfortunate task of serving as
both creator and destroyer. And it’s always painful to tear down something you’ve
built. But don’t fear the reaper, because in many cases, character death is a sacrifice
worth making. But what about context? And what about characters who don’t stay
dead? The fantasy genre – and especially comic books – constantly suffer from too
many resurrections, so let’s tackle this issue first.</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgFExQBbbrKyquXeZOYWyO7IAEuHrbSp0kjnrteozMOsfM0F9ndt-hqgzQYSNjKWQHyiwqZvQORPhdXmy6alUR4uz_QC8900uzxnODT2T32AMF0xvKqIVJotkB0YjZo9_KRD_SXYDLSccGw/s1600/ned-stark-game-thrones1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="366" data-original-width="733" height="198" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgFExQBbbrKyquXeZOYWyO7IAEuHrbSp0kjnrteozMOsfM0F9ndt-hqgzQYSNjKWQHyiwqZvQORPhdXmy6alUR4uz_QC8900uzxnODT2T32AMF0xvKqIVJotkB0YjZo9_KRD_SXYDLSccGw/s400/ned-stark-game-thrones1.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
<br /><o:p></o:p>
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Death serves such an important narrative function not only because
it often enriches the plot, but also because it creates real emotion and drama,
both for the other characters and the reader. It’s the act of taking a
character you’re invested in – and ideally empathizing with – and completely
ending them. If done right, this can completely shock, enrage, or sadden the
reader, and regardless of which emotion it stirs up, it makes the reader <i>feel</i>
something, which is the duty of a good story.<o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
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George R.R. Martin understands this tool very well, and has
demonstrated it time and again in <i>Game of Thrones.</i> And because he kills
off many characters, it creates a constant state of tension and apprehension
for the reader, who never knows which characters are safe – if any. <i>Game of
Thrones</i>, of course, killed off Jon Snow, and then, unlike with every other
main character, brought him back from the dead. This leads me to a point: you’re
allowed one resurrection, maybe two at most, in your story, before things start
to feel cheapened and death loses its significance and emotional impact. But
resurrection is not the only way to ruin death as a plot device.<o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
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Circling back to comic books, Marvel is releasing the <i>Black
Widow </i>movie next year. It’s a prequel, because Black Widow died in <i>Avengers
Endgame.</i> Of course, by not resurrecting her, they’re not completely doing a
disservice to her final scene, but her return in yet another film, even one set
in the past, still takes away from the impact of her death. It’s a loophole; a
way to bring back a character that works maybe one time out of a hundred.
Marvel has exploited another loophole to bring back the character of Loki – the
idea of alternate timelines or a multiverse. This is a common plot device in
comic books, but again, the upcoming <i>Loki</i> series on Disney+ will take
away from the character’s death scene in <i>Avengers Infinity War</i>. And it feels
especially disingenuous after Thanos’ line: “No resurrections this time.”<o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
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So use those resurrections sparingly, if at all. Even one of
them can place that character in a precarious position afterward, narratively
speaking. After Jon Snow returned, any subsequent scenes where it seemed like
he would die (again) felt a bit artificial, emotionally speaking, since as the
viewer, I kind of felt that the writers were unnecessarily toying with us,
because they wouldn’t have brought this character back just to kill him again.<o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i>Supernatural</i> is especially guilty of this. Sam and
Dean have died and come back so many times that death no longer means anything
on the show. In fact, the writers have had to grasp at straws to come up with
ways to walk that back, or reinforce the sense of danger in potential death,
with mixed results. Concepts like the Empty or absolute death by way of
prophecy (“this time you won’t come back!”) almost make you wonder why the
writers bother to go there. We all know there’s no chance of ever permanently
losing our main characters.</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgS0SjN_dwu3cHFluMmqP9jUqAbvXTIpLIQzigNSSzWhdanK-jmVNcsqKu17hlaDcfVpYphnUtitYi4Caxu8KVHpDsLYU9b-FBjid2uXRMLoNd6MET38A6sXp5Q47mSMVf1tg205FHNo6b3/s1600/original.gif" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="230" data-original-width="500" height="183" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgS0SjN_dwu3cHFluMmqP9jUqAbvXTIpLIQzigNSSzWhdanK-jmVNcsqKu17hlaDcfVpYphnUtitYi4Caxu8KVHpDsLYU9b-FBjid2uXRMLoNd6MET38A6sXp5Q47mSMVf1tg205FHNo6b3/s400/original.gif" width="400" /></a></div>
<o:p></o:p><br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
This show also provides a perfect example for my next tip:
know when to kill your characters. I can’t tell you how many times I’ve seen
books or shows keep a character around long past their expiration date. Case in
point: Castiel is a great character played by a great actor, but <i>Supernatural</i>
should have killed him off a long time ago, or returned him to Heaven. Since at
least Season 8, he’s served little to no purpose, and shallow plots have been
constructed for him to make us feel like his story isn’t merely spinning its
wheels. Well, that, and the rabid <i>Supernatural</i> fanbase would riot if
Castiel were permanently removed from the show – and that touches upon
something I’ll get back to in a few moments.</div>
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<o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
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My point, though, is that I think every writer instinctually
feels when a character’s story has reached its natural conclusion. Don’t be
afraid to act on that impulse. You or the readers may love a character you’ve
created, but by forcing that character to continue to fit into the narrative
when it no longer feels organic, you’re doing a disservice to that character
and potentially ruining the character’s already established legacy. Castiel
used to have the interesting dichotomy of being powerful and threatening, and
also unintentionally comedic with his misunderstandings of humans and everyday
concepts. Now he’s become so depowered (and I’ll touch upon power scaling in a
future blog post) and so humanized that the line between human and angel might
as well be removed altogether.<o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
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Some characters remain in the story from beginning to end,
and if it feels right, go with that. Others become fan favorites and often
become so intriguing precisely <i>because</i> of how rarely they appear. Pay attention
to how the character serves the greater story and what the character
contributes. If the narrative benefits from not overusing that character, don’t
try and force that square peg into a round hole. These types of characters are
like a spice – add too much and it ruins the taste; add just the right amount
and it gives great flavor.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi2dGyjpCMLZJuj4kfQhu7N-gO71ogrol4JuoEVCg3Q7XWhcxTcJg4rl569MQt6uGXKA1WPAYN9s5bmpIQDZ3fvHtOXmJtlYstlvuQW3-fUnh979kJy2oDSduznqy7Qz69uUSJc7tZFjif0/s1600/Fringe-120-01.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="500" data-original-width="435" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi2dGyjpCMLZJuj4kfQhu7N-gO71ogrol4JuoEVCg3Q7XWhcxTcJg4rl569MQt6uGXKA1WPAYN9s5bmpIQDZ3fvHtOXmJtlYstlvuQW3-fUnh979kJy2oDSduznqy7Qz69uUSJc7tZFjif0/s400/Fringe-120-01.jpg" width="347" /></a></div>
<o:p></o:p><br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
One series that did this well was the science fiction show <i>Fringe</i>.
Robert Bell, played by Leonard Nimoy, was one of the most compelling and
interesting characters on the show. <i>Fringe</i> ran for 100 episodes. Do you
know how many episodes featured Nimoy’s character? Eight. (11 if you count
additional voice credits.)</div>
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<o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
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Characters are not always kept around, however, simply
because a writer resists the urge to kill them. Sometimes it all boils down to
pressure felt from a raging fanbase, who want the writer to do exactly what <i>they</i>
want, or out come the pitchforks and the outrage on social media begins. This
is a relatively new and modern problem that writers are now facing, and I can
tell you this much: changing your story because of what fans are demanding is bad,
bad, bad. <o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I’m not saying you shouldn’t value the input of your readers
– sometimes they can alert you to truths or ideas that you weren’t aware of
before. But don’t become so beholden to your readers’ opinions that you let
them dictate what happens to your characters. The consumer of the writing doesn’t
have the right to have a say in what happens. You’re the writer. If they were
so good at knowing what was best for your story, they’d be writers too. Fans
who act this way are like the backseat drivers of the writing world. To
paraphrase Dean Winchester, “Driver writes the story. Shotgun shuts his
cakehole.”<o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
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Unfortunately, so many stories have given into this
pressure, with unpleasant – often disastrous – results. Look at <i>Arrow</i>. Fans
started shipping Oliver and Felicity, when the chemistry between Oliver and
Laurel felt much more natural. Both Oliver and Felicity are great characters in
their own ways, but when the writers started to force them into a relationship
to appease the fans, not only did it negatively impact Laurel’s story, shunting
the character to the side after being so central in Seasons One and Two...It
also felt extremely contrived, with even the characters’ dialogue exchanges
feeling awkward and cumbersome.</div>
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We can see plenty of other examples, in <i>The Walking Dead </i>(“If
Daryl Dies, We Riot”), <i>Harry Potter</i> (come on, it’s obvious fan favorites
like Hagrid and Hermione were purposely kept alive), and even <i>Game of Thrones</i>
(in the final season, everything felt much too safe – it’s unbelievable that
Jon, Sansa, Arya, Bran, <i>and</i> Tyrion would all just happen to make it to
the end). Again, I think this is a new problem. Writers are afraid of being
crucified by the fanbase if they step out of line, and it shouldn’t be that
way. So never be afraid to give a character the axe if you feel it’s necessary.
<o:p></o:p></div>
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Whether they’d like to admit it or not, most readers are more
interested in tragedies than happy endings, and that is one of many reasons why
death is a good tool to have at your disposal. Walter had to die at the end of <i>Breaking
Bad</i>. It couldn’t have been any other way, and if it had, the entire series
would have been an exercise in narrative redundancy, so many of its motifs
rendered hypocritically pointless. Ragnar’s death in <i>Vikings</i> was
horrible and hard to watch – and perfect; it felt like the right time for his character
arc to come to a permanent end, and it opened up unforeseen pathways for
viewers, who for the first time in a while, truly didn’t know what to expect
from the rest of the series.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiFigBew2vtVg5C4jg9gWoOZlpjxDJyCqyClbxFoKIV2hKXeWjME-G2XnW4l4TwSgqP3AgvzY2bF2B2YbCt8XfUmSq_xGNwW1igO8zzrw23e9_8W-D9nyb_fRBXq8iS9wGudO59Sd2xEzek/s1600/screen-shot-2019-10-08-at-9-57-09-am-1570543080.png" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="821" data-original-width="1600" height="205" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiFigBew2vtVg5C4jg9gWoOZlpjxDJyCqyClbxFoKIV2hKXeWjME-G2XnW4l4TwSgqP3AgvzY2bF2B2YbCt8XfUmSq_xGNwW1igO8zzrw23e9_8W-D9nyb_fRBXq8iS9wGudO59Sd2xEzek/s400/screen-shot-2019-10-08-at-9-57-09-am-1570543080.png" width="400" /></a></div>
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And finally, here’s something that I believe writers today
aren’t understanding: the outraged reactions of fans when you kill off a
character they love is not a problem; it’s not something that you have a
responsibility to “correct” or address. That emotional response is exactly what
you <i>want</i>. It means you’re doing your job right. If a reader becomes so
enraged or upset at a character’s death that they chuck the book at a wall and
scream profanities about you, it means they were invested enough in your story
that they cared so <i>much</i> about these characters, that it almost feels to
them as if they’ve lost a real person. That means it’s <i>damn good writing</i>,
and beyond that, it means that even if you’ve written the coda on a particular
character, that character left behind a great legacy.<o:p></o:p></div>
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In the real world, it’s only the good people who are missed.
The people who were loved by many. And so it is with the characters you create.
If a character dies and the response is a collective “meh,” you’re failing to provoke
an emotional response, probably because you’ve failed to construct a compelling
character. Kill your darlings. After the anger and the denial and the tears, the
fans who truly “get it” will look back on it later and understand why it had to
happen. Killing characters is just part of the job. In the words of Michael
Corleone, “It’s not personal. It’s strictly business.”<o:p></o:p></div>
</div>
Blake Xhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14474179291529221773noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4066450287048980334.post-77594830694267531502019-10-21T09:02:00.005-07:002019-10-21T09:16:28.709-07:00Lacuna Coil's "Black Anima" is a spark for the artistic soul<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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Lacuna Coil is my favorite band and has had an incredibly positive impact on my
life, one would think that in my review of their music, some inherent bias
might crop up – and perhaps that will happen. On the other hand, I’m also not
afraid to be critical and honest, even though I’d love to blindly heap
mountains of praise on everything these wonderful people do. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiEdlNA6REvzGJHRRtw27S5bfTc6gyBZ0l1OeBb25hyXUXlQ8fqsSCtPM8zFP8Lzl1uPXmpByLg6YF4H1XeJgV9FDD1iPnTPiUaWu7YU-tSQNYFHL2WglyfIJcHKavtYaohzoT7WOcTZvKg/s1600/67307830_10156375382192344_4694263116949618688_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="960" data-original-width="960" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiEdlNA6REvzGJHRRtw27S5bfTc6gyBZ0l1OeBb25hyXUXlQ8fqsSCtPM8zFP8Lzl1uPXmpByLg6YF4H1XeJgV9FDD1iPnTPiUaWu7YU-tSQNYFHL2WglyfIJcHKavtYaohzoT7WOcTZvKg/s400/67307830_10156375382192344_4694263116949618688_n.jpg" width="400" /></a><span style="line-height: 120%; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;">The
truth is, I feel that in return for how Lacuna Coil has moved and inspired me,
I have a responsibility as both fan and reviewer to be balanced and just when
it comes to discussing how I feel about their various work. </span><br />
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<span style="line-height: 120%; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;">Firstly, I can confidently
say that I love every album that this band has ever recorded (that’s not
hyperbole, it’s genuine honesty and I won’t mince words about it). It’s just
that there are some I love a bit more or less than others, which is bound to
happen no matter how each individual record affects you.</span><br />
<span style="line-height: 19.2px;"><br /></span>
<span style="line-height: 19.2px;">That being said, when <i>Delirium</i></span> dropped in 2016, after the initial euphoria over the new material faded, I was able to admit that it was my least favorite record out of their discography. Again, I genuinely loved and enjoyed it in its own right, but if I had to compare it with its predecessors, I’d put it last. I as a listener felt that as exciting and refreshing as the injection of heaviness into their music was, there was some small thing missing that I couldn’t quite put my finger on.<br />
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Enter <i>Black Anima.</i> The same immediate excitement
kicked in (I am a loyal Coiler, after all). Only this time, when that leveled
out and I was able to gather my thoughts and feelings, and reflect on this new
album in a measured and reasonable way, I found my opinion to be very, very
different.</div>
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The album begins with “Anima Nera,” which could have been an
instrumental intro – and might have felt a little by-the-numbers if it had
been. But in typical Lacuna Coil fashion, the band decided to give it a twist.
So, had they merely added a small vocal part to this song, it would have been
welcome, but expected. Instead, what Cristina did with her voice had me
surprised and engaged from the very beginning, and this was the first hint that
this wouldn’t merely be another new record by this band – this would be an
example of the entire band pushing themselves to reach new heights and achieve
great things.<o:p></o:p></div>
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Cristina accomplished that in spades, and the opening track
may represent that best of all. It has her using a much smaller voice, almost
child-like, which is thrown into sharp contrast against a backdrop of
electronic-tinged, vaguely gothic atmosphere, with piano that is at once both
haunting and exciting. A true union of opposites, her voice combined with the
music means we’re off to a very intriguing start. That contrast, by the way,
further plays into the meaning and themes on the album, but more on that later.<o:p></o:p></div>
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Track two, “Sword of Anger,” proves track one to have been a
prelude of sorts; as Andrea belts out in ferocious declaration, “We are the
anima!,” this feels like the true beginning. From there, the guitar work (much
more impressive here than on the prior album), combined with the relentless
exchange of beauty and beast vocals, make for a wildly energized and
headbang-able song. The catchy chorus is a highlight, and it really feels like
Cristina is singing with especially proficient finesse and control over her
voice, yet she makes it sound so casual and effortless. This is the exact sort
of song that should be played at future shows.<br />
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One would be mistaken if they thought track three,
“Reckless,” would have a similar style and structure – it has a completely
different vibe, and confirms that each song on this album will have its own unique
energy and sound to set it apart. Often, especially with new albums, there will
be one or two standout tracks, while the rest have a general sense of
similarity (even if they happen to sound good). But “Reckless” shakes things up
and once again has Cristina take her voice to challenging and unexpected
places.</div>
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As she sings, “let’s wreck it down, let’s be wild and get
reckless,” she achieves a mix of siren-like beauty with attitude-edged urgency.
Everything from the melody to the cadence of her voice is on point here,
letting choice pauses hang between words (“keep the madness...endless”) for
dramatic effect. It’s amazing, and it works. Andrea’s monstrous growls linger
and creep beneath the surface, adding spots of additional power and heaviness where
needed, but the next song is where he really shines.<o:p></o:p></div>
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“Layers of Time” blasts right out of the gate, this time
with Andrea’s harshes driving the song, and the chuggy rhythm forcing you to
bang your head before you’re aware of what’s happening! The guitarwork has a –
dare I say it – djent-reminiscent sound that carries the song. If it were any
other band, this would have made things feel like a simple continuation of what
some other popular bands are doing right now, but this is Lacuna Coil, and
Cristina belts out the chorus like only she can; that, along with the subtle
but present gothic melody (more pronounced toward the end), make for a
thrilling listen. However, it’s Andrea who really excels with his growls on
this one – but even there, the best is yet to come.<o:p></o:p></div>
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This next one is my personal favorite, and circling back to
what I said before, “Apocalypse” reminded me of what I felt that <i>Delirium </i>had
been missing – a strong sense of heart; raw emotion. (Again, there are
exceptions on that album – “Downfall” being an excellent example.) A typical setup
(Cristina and Andrea trading vocals) and a verse-chorus-verse structure can’t
stop this song from being absolutely phenomenal. When Cristina sings “we start
a revolution...we celebrate your lies,” the beauty and the sheer power of that
chorus sounds so good that I occasionally wonder why this hasn’t become a
single (yet). Just when I felt that this song needed one more ingredient to
become truly memorable, in comes a guitar solo that brings an epic sense of
closure to this unexpectedly moving song. This is it; this is the point at
which this album moves from being great to becoming a serious contender for the
best work Lacuna Coil have ever done.<o:p></o:p></div>
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Remember when I said that each song on this album sets
itself apart from the others? “Now or Never” falls right in line with that
notion, beginning with a somber intro that evokes a vaguely old-time feeling
spliced with an underlying creepiness. That transitions seemlessly into the catchy
heaviness I’ve come to expect, but on this song in particular, both Cristina
and Andrea continue to take their vocals to surprising places. <o:p></o:p></div>
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For Andy’s part, he delivers his lines with a fast-paced
cadence, a sort of rap-scream that I’ve only heard him utilize once before – on
<i>Delirium’s </i>“Blood, Tears, Dust” (another high point for that album). It
sounds fantastic, and at the end of the verse, his growls descend into an
almost rasping, shrieking style that I’ve never quite heard him use before.
While he finds and unleashes the beast within, Cristina seriously challenges
that power, this time going not for beauty, but for a fierce yell: “Through the
turmoil, hold the flame, there’s no mercy for the innocent!” The pitch and
energy in her voice is astonishing here, and reveals her to be a more impressive
and versatile vocalist than even I could have imagined.<o:p></o:p></div>
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The beginning of “Under the Surface” serves as a nice
counterpart to the previous track’s intro, giving the listener a brief spurt of
electronic influence before delving back into the rough-beautiful vocal
dichotomy that the band does best. Here the vocals are more typical, as well as
the general structure of the song, but that’s not a bad thing – as Cristina pipes,
“Everything feels perfect when you’re spinning lies,” I begin to realize that
this album has some of the catchiest choruses Lacuna Coil has done in at least
three albums. How this amazing woman continues to find fresh and deeply
riveting ways to serenade the listener is something to be commended. The one
little nitpick I have with this song is that it seems to have a bit of a tinny
sound to it; there’s a certain pitch to the music that feels off, but maybe
that’s just me.<br />
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“Veneficium” is the longest song on the record, and the
Latin chant at the beginning – more atypical voice work that sounds brilliant –
tells me that this one is going to be a journey. I was craving a song like
this, and this one becomes an essential must-listen. The album as a whole would
have felt incomplete without it, which tells me the band knew exactly what this
record needed: every song feels earned and seems like the logical next step in
the greater musical story Lacuna Coil are telling. This is easily also one of
the most gothic and darkly beautiful tracks, strangely harkening back to the
earlier days of the band while simultaneously pushing them into new territory. Here,
Cristina and Andrea stick to their tried and true vocal styles, which is not a
criticism. When Cristina sings “but it’s all in vain,” her voice sends shockwaves
of emotion over me. After “Apocalypse,” this is the second song that gives me
actual chills.<o:p></o:p></div>
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For me, “The End is All I Can See” is the weakest track on
the record – and also a genuinely great song in its own way, which reinforces
my sense of awe about <i>Black Anima</i> – on any other Lacuna Coil album, this
would have been among the standout tracks; here, it’s simply overpowered by
other even more brilliant songs. Make no mistake, though: this is no song to
skip over. It’s probably the most electronic-driven, and has a sense of buildup
that <i>almost</i> feels as though it isn’t going to pay off – until the polished,
crystalline cadence of Cristina’s voice brings it all to a beautifully epic
crescendo.<o:p></o:p></div>
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Next comes a song that seriously challenges “Apocalypse” as
my personal favorite song on <i>Black Anima.</i> “Save Me” is a raw, unfiltered
exposition of emotional vulnerability that I have never seen from this band
before. The drumming and guitar also stand out on this one; the chorus could
not have been so well delivered without those beats and power chords wrapped
around it. Another of Lacuna Coil’s talents is tricking the listener’s ear by using
heavy instrumentals to deliver disarmingly gripping emotion, and this song does
that in a way that is incomparable to any song the band has done in their
entire career before.<br />
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This is a heart-wrenching and eye-opening masterpiece that
will probably be overlooked by some listeners as a simple ballad, but the
Coilers who crave emotive songs from their favorite band will understand.
Cristina may use her vocals in amazing ways on the other tracks, but this is
the one where it really counts. She opened her soul on this one, pouring all
her sadness and pain into this musical reservoir, and it washed my heart with poignant
empathy. This was the point at which I understood that I was hearing some of
the best music I will ever hear in this lifetime.</div>
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All great things must come to an end, and so it is with the
closing title track. “Black Anima” is far from the strongest song on this record,
but serves as a steady and driven dark counterbalance to the prior track. This
one was definitely a grower for me – it took two or three listens. When I
finally felt that I “got it,” though, my respect for this song increased, and I
found it to be an exceptional choice for this album’s ending. It really does
have a “credits rolling” kind of feeling to it – perhaps it’s the urgent
intonation of Cristina’s vocals, or the slow but steady drumming, but something
here brings a sense and feeling of conclusion, and while, again, not being a
track that moved me quite as much as many others on this record, it serves as a
fitting and necessary coda on this unforgettable musical journey.<br />
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<i>Black Anima</i>, all songs considered, is all about
balance for me; that halfway mark between light and darkness, and I feel that
the clever and (eventually) iconic artwork on the album cover represents that
wonderfully: the angel, with sword in hand, resisting and fighting the dragon
even as it tries to consume him. If that isn’t an apt metaphor for the dark
emotional place some of these band members were in when they recorded this, I
don’t know what is.<br />
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It also underscores what I feel is the sentiment of this
album as a whole, reiterated where needed in particular songs: the darkness
that we go through, that sometimes threatens to swallow us whole, is a part of
life and who we are, so strike the balance. Don’t be afraid to dwell in the
shadows. Own that darkness and it can’t be used against you, and never stop
fighting.<br />
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I can say it now: this is the best album Lacuna Coil have
done in their entire career. And over two and a half decades after they
started, that’s no easy thing to achieve, but they’ve done it. This is also one
of the most important albums of 2019. At a time when so many people are dealing
with depression or despair, this song might as well be an emotional black bible
for the modern era. This one has everything: pain, sadness, anger, joy, hope –
and none of it would mean anything if the music and the breathtaking vocals didn’t
drive it into our hearts, but it does. Whatever you do, don’t skip this one. It
is a must-have album, and this is a true piece of art, so you simply <i>must</i>
purchase the physical version; merely streaming its digital counterpart would
be a disservice to what these artists have done. This is something that needs
to be held and looked at and thought about, something you should cherish as an
invaluable part of your music collection.<o:p></o:p></div>
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This is the album that will come to define this band, and I
struggle to believe that Lacuna Coil could ever make another album that could
top this one – and yet, somehow, I think Cristina would probably smile and say,
“challenge accepted.”</div>
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Blake Xhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14474179291529221773noreply@blogger.com0