tinhuvielartanis: (ELO)
I’ve been doing some hardcore servicing on my computer.  The keyboard and touch pad were starting to act up shortly before the trip to Los Angeles.  A few days after I got back to San Diego, the computer flew al to hell.  So I’ve been working on it; thus, my delay in relaying the rest of the Los Angeles story.  I think everything is sorted, now, so onward and upward!

I'll only be posting a fraction of the images I took whilst in LA, but you can click this pic to access all of them, if you wish.  Also, the original size pics are only a click away from the pics I posted here, so get that mouse to moving!

Our only two forays into Touristville was our trip to the La Brea Tar Pits museum (the Mother Unit and I went to the pits last year, but did not go into the museum.).  I don't think I've ever been in the presence of so many bones and fossils.  It was awesome.

Then Andy needed to go to the Harley store to get his sister-in-law a shot glass that said Los Angeles on it, so we found ourselves battling the cast of thousands on the streets, who oblivious to nothing but the stars embedded in the sidewalk, and legendary locales like Grauman’s Chinese Theatre.  I stayed in the car while Andy ran his Harley errand.  I would only have slowed him down, and the clock was beginning to tick by then.

After escaping the tourist traps, it was off to House of Pies.  This is a great hang-out place, and my biggest regret is not actually getting a piece of actual flipping pie from there!  There’s always a next time, and a slice of blueberry cheesecake with my name on it, trust me.

Now, I was under the impression we were meeting only Paul, because Richard was in Las Vegas.  When I got a text on the way to the restaurant informing us that we were on for 3 PM, I thought it was Paul.  Andy and I got there a little early to get us a booth and, shortly thereafter, Paul showed up.  I was taken aback a little, because I had forgotten he’d shaved, so I was expecting the furry edition of the beleaguered Jack Cucchiaio.  We gleefully chatted for a few minutes and Paul and Andy got acquainted, when Richard Gale showed up, which surprised the fuck out of me.  I figured we wouldn’t have a chance to meet him, because he was out of town, and all.  He even brought me a Ginosaji spoon, which is the last thing I expected, because I contributed without requesting any perks.  The perk for me is to see this film come to fruition.  If I had my way, the people with the real talent, in my opinion, which is the only one that matters, would have endless funds for their projects, frighteningly organised promotional work, everything they need at their fingertips, and 100% creative control of their own work.  It was the only way to change the music business, which we’ve seen on almost every level, and I believe that’s how it’s going to end up in what we still call “Hollywood.”  Anyone with any shred of talent, and imagination, and a Tribe that will back them up no matter what will eventually own the world. Jeff Lynne found that out initially at Hyde Park.  He’s still being shocked by it all.  It couldn’t happen to a better person, except people like Barry Andrews and Richard Gale.

The Spoon of the Ginosaji has found a place of honour next to my baby dancing Groot.  Behold the oddest couple in fandom!

Our early dinner lasted longer than expected.  We talked movies, film-making, music, and general tomfoolery until it almost ran Paul and Richard late.  I thanked them for being two of about ten people on this planet to make me genuinely happy and laugh since 2011.  That means more than most everyone can possibly realise.

Richard introduced Andy to the wonders of Uber, which saved our butts as far as getting to the Hollywood Bowl in time, we took an awesome picture, courtesy of the kind cashier at House of Pies, and reluctantly parted ways, promising to do it again soon.

Both Paul and Richard are funny, talented, delightful souls, filled with stories about what it’s like to live and work in Los Angeles.  It was deeply insightful, none of which I’m sharing here, because I haven’t asked permission to share, and there are some things that just shouldn’t be public without the consent of the persons to whom it happened.

I will say that the Ginosaji movie is progressing nicely and is beginning to live up to its description as epic on a level that’s hard to imagine.  Impressed doesn’t even begin to cover how I feel about the project.  I can’t wait for it to all be a reality.

Before heading back to the apartment, Andy wanted to go get the tee with the space cat invaders, so we hied down to the shop to find it.  Whilst there, I found a shirt that was so anti-this trip, I knew I had to have it.  I’m not one to buy frivolous stuff for myself, but I knew this would always conjure the memory of the grooviest birthday I’ve had so far whilst incarcerated in this current veil of tears, and it was only $10, so I took my chances, in more ways than one.  They only had the one shirt, and it was a woman’s medium.  Since I’m still having problems figuring out what can and can’t fit me, I decided to go for it anyway.  Luckily, it fit perfectly, so I wore it with my galaxy pants, because you can’t go to an ELO concert without having the cosmos nearby for their spaceship to have a place along which to triumphantly coast.

Jumping into our Uber with a tad of time to spare (we would have been woefully late, had it not been for Richard’s suggestion.  Thank you for that!), Andy and I were on our way to what I believed would be a defining Life Moment, and Andy was keen on a concert at the Hollywood Bowl.  He specifically said that he wasn’t tingly like I probably was.*  Since I tend to try to keep my emotions in check, my tingle factor was definitely present, but I did my level best to keep it together as we hunted for our seats, which was relatively.  The folks who work at the Hollywood Bowl are quite courteous and helpful.  They’ll also read you the riot act and not give you entrance if you have a camera that even vaguely looks professional.  Mine does not, but I didn’t want to take the chance of losing my camera, so I took my iPhone, which has a very good camera, so I wasn’t too very lower-lippy about leaving the camera at Brian’s apartment.

Andy’s phone had very little charge and he was responsible for the Uber ride back from Hollywood Bowl, so it was up to me to get as many decent pictures as I possibly could.  I even managed to get part of All Over the World, which was personally important, since it was Xanadu that officially introduced me to the Electric Light Orchestra.

The concert began with the Hollywood Bowl Orchestra, conducted by unspeakably cool Thomas Wilkins, playing pieces from English composers, like the lush Nimrod by Edward Elgar, which thrilled Andy no end, considering it’s one of his favourite pieces and and he can play it on organ.  I wish I had that kind of talent.

Being raised on various Classical composers (like Antonín Dvorak and Johann Strauss) along with the Beatles, the Carpenters, and early Electronica like Popcorn by Hot Butter, I was eating the opening act by the orchestra up like a thirsty dude in the desert who just found a water fountain.

When Jeff Lynne and his band finally took the stage, it was nothing short of a religious experience, especially since the opening song was Tightrope, which is one of the closest songs you’ll ever get Jeff Lynne to being cynical.  Even then, it turns out in the end.  Yes, I admit, I got teary.


All of the songs the band played were their classics, and they were played with precisions.  The only exception was the single release from the new album, Alone in the Universe, When I Was a Boy.  Despite his hearing the new album prior to the concert, Andy was very deeply impressed with Jeff Lynne’s autobiographical opus.

After the concert, I said on Facebook, “No words.”  Honestly, I’m still having problems putting into words the experience I had at the ELO concert.  It turned me into Ellie Arroway, no doubt about it.

I had a suspicion he might do All over the World, but knew there was no hope for Xanadu or the title track from Eldorado.  Jeff just doesn't consider Xanadu to be his best work, and Eldorado is just too obscure for your "basic fan", whatever that means.

There was one song that brought me by surprise, and that was Wild West Hero, which they did with the a cappella in tact.  I thought I was taping that portion of the concert but, unfortunately, I screwed that up big time.  Wild West Hero is my second favourite ELO song, specifically because of the a cappella portion of the piece.  You can hear the breath, albeit very slightly and you need headphones, in between each phrase in the song.  It makes it real.  It makes it human.  It makes it breathtakingly beautiful.  Anyone interested in seeing the concert, along with this exceptional performance, you need only click the embedded video here, with the masterpiece in question beginning at 50:30:

As Richard and I had discussed earlier, the subtly of sound makes all the difference in anything, be it music or film.  If you can’t appreciate that, you’re losing a completely vital portion of your creative process.  Unless it’s a silent film or sommat, then you have to be living in the 20s or be Mel Brooks!

I must freely admit that it was during this song that I lost my shit.  I never expected to hear Wild West Hero live.  Ever.  EVER.  EVER EVER EVER. And that harks back to my initial statement that you never know what’s going to happen in this crazy existence.  Ten years, I never expected to be in England meeting one of my heroes.  Ten years later, I never expected to be in the presence of my first ever hero singing a song that only hardcore fans know by heart and audiophiles need a cigarette after hearing it.

Just as I’d heard from concert goers from previous concerts, there were moments Jeff would forget the lyrics.  None of that mattered, though.  The audience, most of us who had already forgotten what we had for breakfast that day (except for me and the Popeye’s Breakfast I’m craving like crazy right now), filled in the blanks for him.  Besides, it showed that Jeff Lynne is human and aging along with his fans, both older hardcore fans, and his new generation.  It shouldn’t be held against him for interchanging the occasional lyric the man wrote 40 years ago.  We should all just be lucky he’s willing to get up there and sing it live for us, when none of us expected to ever see him on stage again, especially not in this capacity.

His typical banter in between songs was “Thank you so much,” with his thumbs in the air.  This wasn’t surprising, coming from a man who said four words after being cornered in a studio back in 1979, that made me fall in love with him.  He was ambushed by an interviewer who asked why the band were named “Electric Light Orchrstra.”  Jeff’s reply, short, sweet, to the point, was, “Uhm...well… why not?” Right then and there, I wanted to be an eccentric recluse.  Got my wish. Haha!  What surprised me was that, even after all the concerts he’s done since Hyde Park, and the worshipful reception he’s gotten every single place he’s played, he’s still shocked and humbled that so many of us are there for him, singing with him, celebrating his life like he never expected it would be.

Paul saw the band at their lowest point in 1986.  I wish he could have been there to see how drastically times have changed that ebb in their career, and see how the band was always supposed to be seen live.  Even though always called Electric Light Orchestra, the orchestral part would still be lost to the electric instrumentation, despite the sound department doing the best they could with what they had to work with at the time.  Technology has finally caught up with Jeff Lynne’s vision, and we who never got to see the orchestra during their supposed heyday, got to see and experience something that is unique and miraculous to our times.  We got to see ELO the way Jeff Lynne always envisioned it.  There were live bands, then there were bands whose light shone brightest in the studio.  What Jeff Lynne finally got to do was bring his fans into his studio and let us see, at least in part, what he sees in his mind when making the music we so adore.

Prior to the concert, Andy asked me what I thought their opener and encore would be.  Getting it completely wrong, I suggested Last Train to London and Mr. Blue Sky.  As mentioned above, Tightrope opened and the perfect marriage of Rock and Classic closed us out with Roll over Beethoven along with perfectly-timed fireworks.

It took us a while to get out of the area, and it was such a relief to get back to the apartment and just lie there, basking in the glory I just had the honour of experiencing.  Even though I was exhausted, I didn’t sleep the entire night.  My inner vision was too filled with astronomical imagery, and my inner song was pure harmony.  I figured I wouldn’t sleep the night of the concert, so I had it in my head to do all the laundry and perform any other duties to ensure Brian’s apartment was exactly as he had left it, or at least as close to that as possible.  The problem was, I didn’t know where the washer and dryer were and couldn’t find them.  Texting Brian, I revealed my intentions, but he would have none of it.  So I limited my restoration to cleaning everything I could, and triple-checking everything I could think of…  I haven't heard any complaints, so I'm hoping we left Brian's uber-groovy pad just as fabulicious as it was when we arrived.

*I would like to note that, by the end of the concert, Andy admitted to being more than a little tingly.  HA!

tinhuvielartanis: (Torquemada)

I haven’t done one of these in about 10,000 years, so let’s get this show on the road.

This is all true. photo 1264091_10153348891685721_288267917_o.jpg1. Full name: Tracy Angelina Evans
2. Nicknames: Tin, Tinhuviel, George, Darth Shriek
3. Birthplace: Asheville, North Carolina USA
4. Birthday: 10 September, 1967
5. Where Do You Live Now?: San Diego, California
6. Parent(s): Father Unit has passed.  Mother Unit is here in San Diego.
7. Sibling(s): ZERO
8. Looks: Better off invisible.
9. Favourite Animal(s): Anything non-human, except for millipedes and centipedes.  Like humans, they can go fuck themselves.
10. Favorite TV Show(s): Impractical Jokers, Better Call Saul

11. Favorite Kind(s) Of Music: Most everything but Country and Opera.
12. Favorite Movie(s): Sci-Fi, Unusual, Conceptual, Foreign
13. School: Some college, focusing on English and Veterinary Assistance
14. Future School: I’m too old for this question. The Chapel Perilous

15. Future Job: Testing new, effective sleep aids.
16. Boyfriend/Girlfriend: nah
17. Best Buds: I’m a bit of a hermit these days.
18. Favorite Candy: Milk Dud
19. Hobbies: Music, reading, writing
20. Things You Collect: Grudges, CDs, movies, moments in time.

21. Do You Have A Personal Phone Line: Yes
22. Favorite Body Part Of The Opposite Sex? The eyes and brain
23. Any Tattoos And Where Of What?: Red & Black Triskele on right hand, Green Shriekback logo on left hand, Mwanza Flat-headed Agama with green and blue hues instead of pinkish and blue.
24. Piercing(s) And Where?: not anymore
25. What Do You Sleep in?: clothing
26. Do you like Chain Letters: aw HELL NAW.
27. Best Advice: Reality is peripheral.
28. Favorite Quotes: Hope for the best, expect the worst. - Mel Brooks.
29. Non-sport Activity You Enjoy: sleep
30. Dream Car: A transporter

31. Favorite Thing To Do In Spring: Avoid the sun.
32. What’s Your Bedtime: Whenever I’m lucky.
33. Where Do You Shop: Wherever I can.
34. Coke or Pepsi: Cheerwine

35. Favorite Thing(s) To Wear?: Something loose that will allow me to blend into my surroundings.
36. Favorite Subject(s) In School: English and Creative Writing

37. Favorite Color(s): Green, Red, Black
38. Favorite People To Talk To Online: People with brains and a wicked sense of humour that has set them on the road to Hell.

39. Root-Beer or Dr. Pepper? Root beer

40. Do You Shave? I’m too old for that bullshit.

41. Favorite Vacation Spot(s): I don’t do vacations.  My favourite place to BE is England.
42. Favorite Family Member(s): Smidgen
43. Did You Eat Paint Chips When You Were a Kid? WHAT?
44. Favorite CD you own: Currently Without Real String or Fish by Shriekback
45. The ONE Person Who You Hate The Most: Going with an old standard here and saying Pat Robertson.
46. Favorite Food(s)?: Potatoes
47. Who Is The Hottest Guy or Girl In The World?: I have a very short list.
48. What Is Your Favorite Salad Dressing?: Bleu Cheese.
49. When You Die, Do You Wanna Be Buried or Burned Into Ashes? I don’t care, as long as I end up on Craggy Dome.
50. Do You Believe In Aliens?: Absolutely.

51. If You Had The Chance To Professionally Do Something, What would You Do? I’m already a Professional Misanthropist.
52. Things You Obsess Over: Various artists, ideas, philosophies, theories, general weirdness
53. Favorite Day of the Week: Don’t bloody care.
54. An Authority Figure You Hate: The Feudal Mistress still tops the list.
55. Favorite Disney Movie: Bambi
56. What Is Your Favorite Season? Winter
57. What Toppings Do You Like On Your pizza? Cheese, with extra cheese, and cheese on the side.
58. Do You Like Your School Food Itself (As In The District Food): I never ate it.
59. If You Could Live Anywhere, Where Would You Live? Avebury, Wiltshire, UK
60. Favorite Thing(s) To Do On Weekends: Sleep, if I can accomplish it.

61. Favorite Magazine(s): Don’t have one.
62. Favorite Flower(s): White rose

63. Favorite Number(s): 5

64. Favorite Ice Cream flavor(s): Ben & Jerry’s Wavy Gravy

65. What Kind of Guys/Girls Are You Attracted to?: Dangerously intelligent, beautiful, talented, and hilarious.

66. What’s Your Most Embarrassing Moment? I inadvertently introduced myself to someone as his wife.

67. If You Could Change One Thing About Yourself What Would It be? I would be fearless.

68. Do You Eat Breakfast First Then Brush Your Teeth or Brush first ten eat breakfast: breakfast first.

69. Favorite Time of Day: Whenever I get to sleep.

70. Can A Guy and Girl Be Just “Best Friends?”: Why not?

71. Do You Ask The Girl/Guy Out Or Do You Wait For Them To Come To You?: I don’t go there anymore.

72. Do You Mind Paying For Sex? I never would.

73. What’s The Most Important thing In Someone’s Personality: Sentience

74. Do you have a pager or cell phone? Cell

75. Favorite Sport: Flambodious Butt-walking

76. What Was the Best Gift You Ever Received? Love

77. How Long Did This Letter Take You To Finish?: Not very long.

78. What Did You Listen To While Completing It?: Electric Light Orchestra’s Alone in the Universe.

79. Are you or would you like to be married in the near future (next 5 years)? NEGATIVE

80. Don’t u just hate how psychics never win the lottery? I hate it more than I don’t win the lottery. I hate psychics, especially the ones who claim to talk to your dead relatives.  They’re grifters who should be drawn and quartered.  The End.

The End

Dec. 31st, 2015 08:44 pm
tinhuvielartanis: (Darth Geek)

And so we have arrived at the threshold of yet another year, four cycles after the long hoped for Alpaca Lips.  In some ways, it has been an eventful year and, in others, things have barely changed.  I figured I'd touch on the highlights of 2015, then throw some hopes (gasp, hope?  Tin?  NOOOOOO!) out for 2016.  So, let's begin.

no title

The first major thing that happened in 2015 came in February, when I was allowed unprecedented liberties to continue and expand my campaign to disseminate All Things Shriekback.  I was elated, for I had watched for too long their greatness be swallowed up by the ever-expanding Internet, without the proper tools in my box of toys to make enough digital noise to be noticed.  That changed prior to the release of one of their best albums to date, Without Real String or Fish.  To my immense joy, this was only one of many releases by the band that I got to relentlessly plug throughout the year.  It's been an honour to do what I could for the guys, and I will continue to do what I do until they tell me to stop!


In April, another wonderful thing occurred:  I got to go up to Los Angeles to attend Jeff Lynne's Hollywood Walk of Fame star ceremony.  Even though I didn't get to meet him - again! - I was still thrilled to be in the general vicinity of my spiritual and musical godfather, and listen to him talk a little about his career and how honoured he felt to be getting the praise and attention that has long been due the man.  He's a genius, and I am overjoyed that people are finally catching on to this fact.  It also heartens me that so many Millennials, particularly in the music world, are embracing Mr. Lynne and his music.  That means that his legacy will live on through the generations, as long as humanity plagues this world.  It almost makes me glad we're all still around.  Anyway, also in attendance to the star ceremony, making speeches of their own about how groovy Jeff Lynne is, were Tom Petty and Joe Walsh.  I caught this epic photo before the brouhaha began.   


And it got even better later in the year, in November, when Jeff Lynne released Alone in the Universe, the first official ELO album since the release of Zoom in 2001.  I'm currently listening to it for the first time but, hey! better late than never, right?  2015 was the year both Shriekback and the Electric Light Orchestra gave the world new music.  If for no other reason, this year should be marked as a complete success because of this.


Shortly before I moved out to San Diego, my TV died.  For a while, I was pretty miserable, until I got used to watching streaming formats online, like Netflix.  It cut down on my viewing habits considerably, and I found myself focusing on just the movies and shows I personally found important and worthy enough to spend my time watching.  Beginning in late 2014, though, my number one go-to place for instant entertainment gratification became You Tube.  I discovered Alonzo LeroneGarret John, and a host of other talents, visionaries, and creatives.  In June of 2015, though, I stumbled upon a short film that completely blew my mind. It's what made me realise how grateful I am to no longer have a television. I probably would have never discovered such brilliance had I still been enslaved to the mediocrity that spews out of the boob tube.

When I first saw The Horribly Slow Murderer with the Extremely Inefficient Weapon, I had a reaction eerily similar to what I had upon seeing The Joker Blogs' Therapy Begins.  I couldn't get enough!  Impressed didn't even begin to cover it.  The more I watched it and the related films on Richard Gale's You Tube channel, the more I laughed.  As anyone who has known me since losing Aunt Tudi in 2011 knows, laughter is something I treasure above all other things.  I credit anything that could cut through the grief and trigger laughter as holding a seed of the miraculous within its heart.  The Impractical Jokers were the first to make what I thought was impossible happen.  The Horrible Slow Murderer carried on that life-saving tradition.  

I was so impressed with the undeniable talent in this short film and others on the channel, like the wholly unfunny and horrifying Criticized, I was compelled to learn more about the film maker and his posse.  Employing the web search skills I learned in the Pit oh so very long ago, it didn't take me long to learn a good bit about the director and actors Paul Clemens and Brian Rohan.  

Well, one thing led to another, and I ended up helping them with their Kickstarter campaign, after having the pleasure of discussing a few promo ideas with Richard one Sunday a few months ago.  During this time, I've come to see that not only are these guys uber-talented, but they are also genuine, groovy, insightful, kind individuals.  How could anyone not want to help people like this in any way they can?


While all this was happening, I was going to the doctor about my back pain, which seemed to be getting worse despite all attempts to reverse the issues causing it.  The doc finally suggested that I look into getting an panniculectomy.  Now, in South Carolina, no insurance, private or public, would cover anything considered cosmetic.  When I got the gastric bypass surgery, I went into it with no pipe dreams of getting any excess skin removed.  It was never an option, so I never entertained the idea.

When the doctor brought up the panniculectomy, I silently scoffed, but decided "what the hell?  It doesn't hurt to ask."  So, a couple of days later, I called Aetna and asked them if such a surgery were covered.  They informed me that, if it were considered medically necessary, they would cover it, and all I would have to pay would be $264.00.  I called the doctor, who referred me to Dr. Jason Hess.  He took pictures, informed me that he'd gotten approval for surgeries with less severe pannus issues, and said he'd be asking approval for not just a panniculectomy, but also an abdominoplasty which, combined, are basically the human equivalent to being cleaned like a fish.

In two weeks time, Aetna gave the go ahead, and I had a tummy tuck and panniculectomy in September.  I'm still recovering from it, but my back does feel better after no longer having to deal with 17 pounds of dead weight constantly pulling on my lower lumbar region.  Also, for the first time in my life, I actually have a figure.  I'm still not used to the new body.  It's like living in an alien biological construct.

So, 2015 saw me become a bit of a California stereotype in that I got plastic surgery and began "hobnobbing" with Hollywood directors and actors.  Folks, don't expect that, if you're thinking of planning on moving to California.  Bear in mind that I live in the Twilight Zone and have no idea how shit like this happens to me.


One more cool thing that happened this year actually happened this month.  After over a year of struggling with it, I finally had a breakthrough in my arduous Wacom education.  I still have a very long way to go before I consider anything I do with the tablet worthy of pride, but at least I'm finally seeing results from what I have so far learned.  This is the result - the best representation of how I see Cadmus Pariah in my mind's eye.  I plan on making this a full body picture, not just a floating head of death, but I thought I should make note that my obvious learning disability when it comes to digital art has at long last had a wee chink taken out of its seemingly impenetrable wall.

There have been some unhappy things to happen this year - conflicts with Matt, friends falling prey to illness, seriously fucked up news on the family front, among other things - but I am choosing not to focus on that in this year-end post.  There is nothing I could write here that would change any of these things, and I frankly don't want to give the bad areas of 2015 any more power than they already have.  I would prefer to give energy to more positive outcomes in those categories in the coming year. 

That being said, here are some things I'm hoping to see happen and/or make happen in 2016.

  • Friends and family beat the odds and kick all manner of ass with some insane Health Fu.
  • The Presidential election does not turn out to be a disaster of mega-Fascist proportions.
  • People collectively reject the status quo and embrace a higher vibrational state of being.
  • There is full disclosure on extraterrestrial life and activities, as well as extra-dimensional life and activities.
  • Jeff Lynne plays a concert in San Diego and I get to attend.
  • I can eventually feel as comfortable riding the buses in San Diego as I was riding the ones in Los Angeles. LA makes a lot more sense as far as layout is concerned.  Or maybe that's just me.
  • Yoga becomes a part of my everyday life.
  • Barry Andrews has more delightful written and musical works of art in store for the world.
  • I complete my latest book and maybe even publish it.
  • The filming of Ginosaji goes smoothly and is a low-stress joy for all involved.
  • I get to go to the desert to gaze at the Milky Way at least once in 2016.
  • I and those I love are surrounded by non-toxic individuals and that we can continue to expand the influence of beauty, creativity, common sense, and divine madness.
  • The Alpaca Lips finally happens.

Here's hoping everyone has a fantastic new year.  May it be visionary in every way.

tinhuvielartanis: (Doomsday Clock)

If you've been a longtime Tribe-member here on the Journal of Live, you are well-aware of how I sometimes get a little enthusiastic about the oddest things.  Like Darth Maul, Tim Roth, Shriekback(can I get a whoop-whoop here?), and the Joker in both his Dark Knight incarnation and, in particular, Scott McClure's interpretation of him in The Joker Blogs.  I'm not satisfied to just hop on a generic bandwagon and be a regular fan of things and people, no no!  I have to leap onto Radio Flyer-level wagons, dragging as many people as possible with me, until it becomes a Wagon Train-level event that would make Zane Grey get misty-eyed.  I love a lot of things, but there are those tiny few that become more than just the object of an OCD fan's love.  They become a cause, to which I dedicate time, money, evangelism, sanity, and people's patience with my hooliganism. Why do I do this?  I have no idea.  I don't know what the trigger is that makes something or someone I love and enjoy transform into something I need in my life, and must insert into the lives of others, its importance so monumental that some folks will humour me just to be left in peace for a little while.  For now, though, let's not fret about the motivation behind my causes, and focus on one of two causes that are currently overworking my manipura to the point of spontaneous human combustion. I want to talk about one of the few things that has brought a level of joy in my life that I never thought I'd experience again, since 2011.  I'm talking about this movie short and the delightful individuals who created it.

Since seeing it for the first time a few months ago, I'm fairly certain I could quote the entire film from memory. The only movies to occupy that unconditional passion are most of Mel Brooks' films and John K's Ren & Stimpy.

Being the daft poster child for OCD, I had to learn everything I could about the people behind this masterpiece. The more I learned, the more I genuinely liked them. They seem like really groovy souls who deeply grok the dark humour so often associated with Generation X. I admit without hesitation that I covet their talent. Who wouldn't? So there were rumours, and rumours within rumours, that Richard Gale was planning on making the actual movie with the actors reprising their roles in the film short. Just a couple of months after I first saw The Horribly Slow Murderer with the Extremely Inefficient Weapon, the rumours were put to rest when the crew launched their Kickstarter. They need $200,000 to make this film a reality, and they even have Jeffrey Combs, a name any self-respecting Horror/Sci-Fi fan should instantly recognise, on board to be in the flick. Serious cred there, yo!

But I'm rambling, so I'll just get down to the "bwass tacks". If you like horror and comedy, please contribute to this worthy Kickstarter. If you are hardcore in your appreciation of Absurdism, please contribute to this worthy Kickstarter. If you need something in your life that will never fail to bring a smile to your face, please contribute to this worthy Kickstarter. If you like to help people who are not only insanely talented, but also equally decent individuals, create something without having to surrender their vision, ethics, or artistic control to others who don't understand the importance of such things, and care only about getting richer, please contribute to this worthy Kickstarter. And last but not least, and directed primarily to my fellow Tribesfolk, many of whom would just wish I'd shut the fuck up already: If you want to be responsible for bringing a little happiness into my life, when you know that the very notion of a smile is hard to imagine since 2011, please contribute to this worthy Kickstarter. Humour is a holistic healer of sprained spirits, so you would be helping my spirit strengthen its reinforcements by contributing in the making of Ginosaji.

Below is Richard Gale's project pitch. Beneath that is an image link to the crew's Kickstarter campaign page, where you can pledge fundage to the cause. Financially, everyone is having a less than stellar time of it, but even a dollar will make a difference here, so please do what you can. They have tons of perks for people who are able to reach deep or were born with a silver spoon in their mouths, so bear that in mind, too. Even if you're too broke to spend the night or pay attention, you can still help. If you have any experience in filmmaking or skills generally associated with the craft, you can contact Richard Gale via the Kickstarter page and see if your talents meet his needs. Also, spread the word! This is a public post and I encourage you to share it with all your homies in the world, and ask that they do the same. The more people know about this, the more likely it will be the filmmakers will reach their goal by 3 November! The only perk I can personally offer you is my promise to try to tone down my tenacity regarding Ginosaji: The Horribly Slow Murderer with the Extremely Inefficient Weapon, so you won't feel too terribly hounded as you have been in the past, with causes like The Joker Blogs and Shriekback. So, let's get this show on the road, shall we?

Now, click this spoontastic picture to help bring more happiness to the world.
Everyone could definitely use more of that and less of what we're getting, wouldn't you agree?

I really hope y'all enjoy the film short enough to want to get involved in some way. Also, I would like to apologise ahead of time for my incessant cheerleading about this new cause. You've been with me for years and had to put up with virtual pom-pom fuzz all over your computer monitor more than anyone should be forced to tolerate, so it heartens me that you're still around after all this time. And should you get put out with my constant glomping, try to look on the bright side: I could have developed an unhealthy fascination with the Shiri-me instead of the Ginosaji, and who wants to listen to someone go on and on about a Japanese ghost whose name translates into English as "eyeball butt?"

I bet you feel better already, now don't you?

tinhuvielartanis: (Shriekback Logo)

The band have posted an hour-long interview, answering fans' questions. Take a gander, and don't forget to pick up a copy of Without Real String or Fish.

tinhuvielartanis: (Cadmus Ink)

Yesterday, Barry Andrews uploaded a new blog entry on the Shriekback Tumblr. It's a great read, obviously, but I saw a lot of what he wrote could also apply to other musicians, artists, writers, dancers - basically anyone who produces creative content. Over the years, I've come across artists who work in all creative mediums who say they were influenced and/or inspired by Shriek music. I was especially pleased to read two particular statements in the narrative.

Barry wrote:

Shriekback has long enjoyed a cordial, if intermittent, rapport with the film business. The reason is not hard to discern: we do seem to be good at creating ‘atmosphere’. Evoking feelings; establishing a mood. I’ve no idea why this comes so easily but it does. Music can sidestep the conscious, critical mind and make emotions happen in a way that visual media have to work a lot harder to do.

Later on in the blog entry, he wrote:

It’s always a nice moment when you get an email asking to use a piece of Shriekback music in a film: firstly it means you get paid without doing anything (though you always seem to have to chase the money- doubtless for some film biz related reason). And also there’s an implied compliment in that someone saw something in your work which they felt would enhance their own.

Of course, I had to share the entry to my Vampire Relics Facebook page, adding my own opinion about the nature of creative expression.  Here was my take as the writer of The Vampire Relics:

So what do you think? Do you think Shriekback's treatise on the nature film-making and its relationship with music is a valid perspective? Do you believe how what he says could apply to any creative effort? If you have opinions and/or insights regarding this, please share them. Also, if you have drawn, written, painted, filmed, photographed, recorded, built, or made something that came into existence because of Shriekback's influence on your imagination, I'd love to see it. If you do share something with me, be sure to let me know if I can pass it on to Barry because, as quoted above, he considers such activity to be "an implied compliment in that someone saw something in your work which they felt would enhance their own."

tinhuvielartanis: (Landon Dunlevy)
This is why I believe the use of music by the Greys in 'Close Encounters of the Third Kind' is entirely feasible, and actually quite likely. Scientists contend the language of the universe if mathematics. I don't think they're wrong, but I believe the eternal beauty and wonder that communicates life forms into being may possibly be a much easier way for species to connect. They're two sides of the same coin. Where math is somewhat exclusive (I can barely add 2 + 2 ~ does that mean I won't ever have an encounter with visitors from another world?), music touches everyone. Sound and rhythm is the voice of the multiverse, and the heartbeat of creation.
tinhuvielartanis: (Richard Ayoade)
Given my arguable success in the proliferation of All Things Shriek, Barry Andrews, and his latest mini-project, ANAXATON6, one would think that I'm some kind of expert, but I'm not.

Everything I learned about promotions, I learned by observing the BMG branches across the country, and what they'd get up to in getting the word of a new album by an established artist, or a debut album by a relatively unknown talent. The department I worked in was Point of Purchase, which was responsible for getting in-store play CDs to stores and radio stations, as well as sending promotional tchatchkes like posters, flats, press kits, even frisbees at one point.

All this really came in handy when I encountered the Shrieks for real and true, and began doing what my branch friends were used to doing all that time. Plus, I was able to give advice about promotions, when it was asked for, or when I thought it prudent. It was all a very educational experience.

During this time, I learned that I was actually pretty good at the proliferation of truly deserving talent. I even extended whatever I could offer to Scott McClure of The Joker Blogs fame, working diligently with some other wonderfully talented souls to bring to the world who should be the next Joker, if there is a god.

But I've come to realise that I suck like a pissed-off black hole at promoting myself. I try my damnedest, but I don't think it's every really good enough. I'm one of those people who hangs her head and looks furtively about for the nearest exit, just in case I have to dash out, wailing with horror at the very thought to trying to tell another person why they should read my books.

I think that's one of the reasons I am genuinely fond of Richard Ayoade. He's great in his acting roles, and at panel shows, which showcase his perfect deadpan humour. But, if you ask him about his own work, like the movie Submarine, he starts with the nervous head-scratching (which is adorable, given the unruly, beautiful mess that it is) and the constant eyeglass adjusting. Plus, he has problems making eye contact, which makes most of his pictures look kind of like he's waiting for the aliens to land at any moment.

So, it's not that he's just an absolutely beautiful man, his honest shyness and self-deprecation are traits I relate to on an extremely profound level. I empathise with him, especially right now, when The Augury of Gideon is close to being published.

What would be ideal would be for RA to promote my book, and I could promote his movies, shows, and writing credits. That would be in some perfect world in which I shall sadly never live.

Flogging one's own work just seems so ego-centric. I think that's what distresses me most. I'm not one to hoot and holler about whatever talents I think I have. I'm gratified that some people see some potential in me, just as a bevy of individuals consider Ayoade a brilliant individual. I guess I'm more of a "here's something I hope you like. If you do, please say so in public, that'd be great" kind of person. And that's what I see in Richard Ayoade, and what endears him to me so much, not to mention he's the bastard child of Prince and Urkel.

I kid you not.

 photo princeayoade.png

The more nervous he gets, the more he scratches his head and adjusts his glasses. He's like an textbook case of self-consciousness. I don't see how he does it, really. If I had to go before a camera and talk about The Vampire Relics, I'd be shot off into space for the benefit and protection of the entire human race. Anyway, I need any advice that anyone can give me on how to plug my wares without dying from embarressment. I'd ask Richard, but I have no way to do so, so that's pretty much out of the question.

What I'd really love to do is ask Richard Ayoade how he psyches himself out for interviews and movie promotions at film festivals. The problem with this is I'm sure I'd do two things: wrap around him like an alien face hugger, and hang my head in shyness for even being around him in the first place. I imagine he'd talk to the walls or out the window, and I'd be overly verbose with the floor.

Gads. How can someone overcome being a hang-dog when it comes to their own creations, when they can be so enthusiastic about others'? I JUST DON'T GET IT. If I could only be a fraction as enthusiastic about my own work, as I am Barry Andrews', I may already have a movie deal ~ in a parallel universe.
tinhuvielartanis: (Maul)
There was a time in movie history when an extreme shift occurred, thanks namely to George Lucas and Steven Spielberg. In 1977 Star Wars and Close Encounters of the Third Kind were released. This, combined with Star Trek playing in syndication at the same time, triggered the coming of age of Geekdom. A lot of now-middle-aged individuals found a kind of new religion because of these movies, each of them deeply spiritual in their own right. Sadly, many of us did not get to see these movies in the theater for a variety of reasons; theaters were still sparse in many areas, we were too young to be allowed to go see them, or we learned about the movies too late to see them at the theater. The advent of the VHS allowed us to finally see the films years later, after we had long-since been immersed in their canons. I was lucky enough to see Star Wars in 1978, when it returned to the cinema that Summer. It was my first PG movie. It wasn't until 1983, when I spent part of my Summer with the Father Unit and Mary, that I got to see Close Encounters. They had a friend who owned a Betamax, and he screened that movie and Cat Ballou for us one evening.

I've noticed with increasing interest how movies that were released years ago, are being re-released in theaters, mainly because of the 3-D option. This made me think about how some of the classic films, from the 30s and 40s, enjoy homes in art house cinemas dedicated to Hollywood's golden age. And let's not forget the sacred nights of The Rocky Horror Picture Show, now a tried and true tradition that spread out from New York City until it touched lives world wide.

All of it has gotten me to thinking: my generation deserves...no, it fairly demands a platform to celebrate out Geek origins. It would please me no more than to open a cinema house, called Iconic Cinema, that caters to Generation X. For too long, we have been equated with cynicism and apathy; but we are the generation that gave rise to almost every great fan convention in modern times. It wasn't the first generation of Star Trek viewers who gave the Trek world life; it was their children (US) who began clamouring for more after seeing the shows in syndication. It was we who lamented for a proper Lord of the Rings movie, after many of us cut our reading teeth on the tales of Bilbo and, later, Frodo. It was we who grew up dreaming of virtual realities, thanks to the wholly alien inner world of Tron. And I could go on and on. Suffice to say, Simon Pegg's movie Paul would never have been made, had it not been for GenX and the movies that moved us so long ago.

If I had the money to invest, it would most assuredly be to create a meeting place for all these wondrous movies, and even TV shows. Not only would it allow those of us who never got to see the Big Two in the theaters, to finally realise that dream, it would also afford our children and grandchildren the opportunity to see these and many other movies in a format worthy of their greatness.

Maybe someday I'll get to do this.
tinhuvielartanis: (Torquemada)
Why do movies portray non-English speakers as speaking English, but with the accents of the land they are from? What does the English or American accent sound like spoken in Russian?

For instance, I am watching this movie Vlad and it stars two Americans who are supposed to be Romanians, but they are speaking English in what is supposed to be their own country. I know it's so the viewing audience can understand it, but how does that work exactly?

It's like Cloris Leachman said in History of the World, Part 1, "We are so poor, we do not even have a language! Just this stupid accent!"
tinhuvielartanis: (Red and black alien)
I'm doing something that Aunt Tudi and I did every year for fourteen years without fail. I'm watching the movie Independence Day. What is so shocking is that I have not yet lost my mind from grief. I'm not even crying. It makes me miss Aunt Tudi, yes, but it's a wistful kind of longing. I wish she were here to watch the movie with me, but something tells me that she'd kick my arse if I didn't watch it. We would always cheer when New York and Los Angeles would get blown to smithereens. When Dubya was in the office, we would fantasise that he was in the White House when the aliens vaporised it. Good times, good times.

After making 2012Roland Emmerich said that he would no longer make any more disaster films. Well, I don't guess so. He blew up or froze the entire northern hemisphere. He has repeatedly destroyed New York and Los Angeles. Then in 2012 he destroyed the whole damn world. Once you've eradicated your home world, there's really not much left to blow up, freeze, drown, fry, smother, kick, headbutt, or whip real good. So either Emmerich starts making films that don't include much disaster, or he gives up the cinematic ghost, apologisse to the Earth, and retires to highest peak of the South Pole, which is the only place he hasn't eradicated, to my knowledge.

Okay, I'm signing off for now. Washington DC is about to buy a ticket to the biggest weenie roast on Earth. Holy-fucking-Roswell, Batman!
tinhuvielartanis: (Podling)
I am watching the first version of this film, the one from 1975. When the movie initially came out, I was eight years old and completely amazed with the story, music, and special effects. It is what inspired me to read the book, and learned about Brown Mountain in NC, the mountain the story was based on. I retrospect, I enjoyed the book more than I did the movie, but the film was very pivotal for me. I became a lover of Romany music because it reminded me of the theme song to Escape to Witch Mountain, and I began to educate myself on the phenomena of all things supernatural. I was already predisposed to be fascinated with the unexplained and the powers of the mind.

Even though I will never forget the benefits this movie has provided me, I must admit that it has not aged well. The music seems a bit trite now, and the movie pretty much butchers Alexander Key's book. I have this DVD, but I doubt I'll watch it that often, unless I'm feeling more nostalgic than is healthy.

In other news, it is going on 7 PM, and it's 16 trillion degrees outside. Kill me now.
tinhuvielartanis: (Never Wrong a Writer)
I decided earlier that I wasn't going to spend the entire night in the deathtrap of a house, and opted to go see The Raven, because there's nothing like spending part of the night with John Cusack. Get your minds out of the gutter. Cusack is groovy cool, but I just don't see him that way. But maybe you do. Well, whatever, back to the story.

The screening was at 10:30. I left at 10, in plenty enough time to get there and maybe get a drink...if my nightblindness had not made me miss the exit and make me have to double back to Woodruff Road. I got in just under the wire, and walked into an empty theatre. This was actually how I wanted it and one of the reasons I chose to go to the last showing. But just before the movie actually started, a man walked in. And he sat down a couple of rows behind me. Right behind me. This was night, I was alone, and we were about to watch a movie essentially about serial murder. I began running through the few Kung Fu moves I know. Now, I may have a death wish and, given my taste in men and characters, I've always figured I'd end up being murdered by a serial killer, but I want to do it on my terms. I at least wanted to see the movie first.

What can I say about The Raven? It is in every way a brilliant film. I've been following the development of the movie closely, because I have a deep affection for Edgar Allan Poe, and John Cusack is my homeboy from a past life. And there's never been a movie I've seen him in that I haven't loved. He's been talking on Twitter about his immersion into the person of Poe for some time, and it was fascinating to see him get so involved with and come to love the author and his works.

You could really tell. Even though this was a fictional Poe, John Cusack really brought as much reality as he could to the man. He went over and above board with this role, and he should be given multitudinous props. The supporting cast was also stellar. When I saw Brendan Gleeson, I was pretty damned thrilled. Love that man. Luke Evans certainly matched Cusack in talent, but that's what happens when a Welshman and an Irishman get together. Sparks fly.

There were some aspects about the movie, especially later on in the film that really kind of freaked me out. It has to do with the ending, and I don't want to give anything away, but a couple of quotes near the end hit waaaaay close to home. Suffice to say, it's that synchronicity thing. Of course, it just got weirder when I got in the car and cranked up the iPod. XTC hasn't shown up on the iPod in ages, and what's the first song that comes on? "Rook," by XTC. Even though the song is about European folklore surrounding this bird and its cousin the crow, both are related to the raven, and I'd always equated "Rook" with Poe's "Raven."  And it's even more relevant now, considering the plot of the movie. 

So, that's freakin' strange. Here are the lyrics to the song.

XTC "Rook" from the album Nonsuch (1992)
Rook, Rook Read from your book
Who murders who and where is the treasure hid?
Crow, Crow Spill all you know
Is that my name on the bell?

Rook, Rook Gaze in the brook
If there's a secret can I be part of it?
Crow, Crow Before I'll let go, say is that my name on the bell?

Soar up high, see the semaphore from the washing lines
Break the code of the whispering chimneys and traffic signs
Where's the message that's written under the base of clouds?
Plans eternal, I know you know, so don't blurt out loud

Rook, Rook By hook or by crook
I'll make you tell me what this whole thing's about!
Crow, Crow Why can't you show
If that's my name on the bell?

On the wings of night, I fly too, above field and stream
My head bursting with knowledge 'till I wake from the dream
If I die and I find that I had a soul inside
Promise me that you'll take it up on its final ride

Rook, Rook Gaze in the brook
If there's a secret can I be part of it?
Crow, Crow Before I'll let go, say is that my name on the bell?

Oh, in case you haven't noticed, my viewing partner did not kill me. He left before the credits rolled, and I always stick around for the credits. That's how I've always learned my movie trivia, even though IMdB has pretty much made the practice redundant. Old habits die hard, and apparently so do I.
tinhuvielartanis: (NOT SAFE)
It has been repeatedly NOT SAFE on Facebook today. Even experienced a brief conversation on my 'Phoenician' video. Was gonna seriously write on 'Star Watcher' and even 'The Braid,' but my reality keeps being canoodled with and keeping my psyche in an uproar. This combined with the Absinthe scene in Deceiver has put a dent in my sanity today.

That said, I'm going to the 10:30 screening of The Raven tonight. Because I want to. And I can.
tinhuvielartanis: (Sith Tin)
We are having a major thunderstorm here right now. The animals are climbing me like I'm a fire fighters' ladder. And it's starting to piss me off. I feel for them, I really do. But being the only person here now is pernear impossible to tolerate when you look like you're dripping fur, so many animals are on you like freckles.

I am watching X-Men First Class. On TV. I have the DVD. This is something I do when I really like a movie, and I don't know why. My first guess is that it's a mental defect. All that aside, I grow increasingly fond of the Magneto character each time I see this flick. I completely understand why he established the Brotherhood of Mutants, considering he and his entire family had been sorely abused by the Krauts for being Jews. A Jewish Mutant? That's perfect reason to want to kick everyone's ass forever. I'm with him 100%. And I am particularly fond of X-Men First Class. I may even like it better than X-Men 2: X-Men United. That one seriously rocked. X-Men First Class may actually have too much eye candy in it, though. I mean, really, James McAvoy and Michael Fassbender? That's just wrong...in a completely right sort of way.

I am supposed to call the DMV to see if they got the lien release from Capital One. Onyx Acceptance, which handled my car loan for the ION never updated their records despite my paying off the loan (early no less!) and getting my original title. The insurance company couldn't use that title and I found out why yesterday. So I don't have my money for a new car, and I have to turn in the rental today. I'm hoping to get this lien hoo-ha straightened out today and the the proper paperwork overnighted to Nationwide, so they can e-transfer the settlement funds to my bank tomorrow.

But I'm looking at being stranded for at least the weekend. Diane and Bobby are going to help me hunt for a new car as soon as I have the cash in my hands.

In other news, I have decided that folding laundry is against my religion. I'm right now taking a break from folding three basket loads of the devil fabric. But I must get back to it. So...good bye.

Silver City

Apr. 7th, 2012 06:22 am
tinhuvielartanis: (Marlow)
I watched Silver City a few hours ago. It starred Danny Huston and co-starred Tim Roth. Seeing them together (Huston being 6'2" and the Roth being 5'7") was like watching Mutt and Jeff. But it was all worth it when there was a scene with them in bed drinking and smoking. They were clothed and it was not a romantic scene except in my own filthy little mind. I would not be typing this, if it had been a Brokedy-back Mountain sort of situation, because I would have dropped dead right on the spot. Way too much sexiness for one movie, and that's not even taking into account the fact that Billy Zane is also in this flick. My Demon Knight, Marlow, and Archibald...good grief.
tinhuvielartanis: (Dr. Who Boogie)
When I first saw this movie, this scene and Jeffrey Jones' "Drahkoola" scene almost made me wet my pants. There are probably only a wee handful of people who remember this flick, and even fewer people who found it funny. But I thought it was stupidly hilarious, and I still quote the Gypsy woman when I get the urge to, you know, actually sleep. If I can find the "Drahkoola" scene, I'll be uploading that to You Tube as well, so be warned.

tinhuvielartanis: (Cadmus Dark Eyes)
I took a wild hair and zipped off to Greenville where there stands a most miraculous record store called Earshot. They sell not only CDs, but also hundreds of used DVDs, tchachkes, books, and sundry weird things, many of which I stocked up on a few months ago, when I was compiling Barry's weirdo stalker care package (Jesus action figures, monster finger cots, dashboard Buddhas, teeny-tiny Voodoo dolls, you get the picture).

While I was there, I found two used DVDs which tickled me pink. One is the deluxe version of Manhunter, which includes all sorts of extras, not to mention the director's cut of the film. That being said, I now have an extra copy of Manhunter and it's free to whomever reaches out to me first. I'm linking this journal entry to Facebook as well, so whoever gets me first, gets the goods. And it's totally worth it, yo. This is the first Hannibal Lecter movie, and quite possibly the best adaptation of any of the Thomas Harris series. Brian Cox takes on the role of Hannibal in this, and he does a mighty fine job, even though Anthony Hopkins owned the role, and rightfully so. If you don't know who Brian Cox is, he's a British character actor who has worked with both Tom Hardy (in The Take) and Tim Roth (in Rob Roy). He's fabulicious.

I also found a copy of the Roth's very first film, Made in Britain. That's gonna be a hoot to watch, swastika'd third eye chakra and all.

While I was at Earshot, I checked to see if they had any Shriekback music in stock. They did not. I was tres displeased. So, when I went to pay for my DVDs and patchouli incense, I put on my mantle of music biz promotions representative and asked the dude behind the counter what Shriekback the store had available for ordering. There were only four: "The Y Records Years," "Oil & Gold" (the domestic version), "Oil & Gold" (the 2-CD import), and "Life in the Loading Bay." No "Cormorant" and no "Glory Bumps." It was rankling. So I informed the dude about how the Shrieks were still making music and were, in fact, back in the studio as we were probably speaking. I asked him if there were any way Earshot could connect with Malicious Damage to start carrying the Shriek catalog. He did not know, and suggested that I talk to the manager, who would be back in the store tomorrow. I gave the man my name, email address, and phone number and he promised to pass the information on to the manager. If I don't hear back from someone by the beginning of next week, I am calling them. There has got to be some way that the primary independent record store in the area can begin carrying this music, which fits right in to their reason for...being.

I left to go to the grocery as I needed orange juice. The minute I walked in the store, Coldplay's "Viva la Vida" came on over the store speakers. I have never heard this song played in any public forum until today. Flint is obviously haunting me. Funny thing is, when I got back in the car, I turned on the iPod to shuffle, and the first song it played was "Despite Dense Weed" by Shriekback. I take this as a pretty strong message that I need to finish up the Flint/Cadmus tale and move on to other things.

For now, I'm moving on to my friend Diane's house.
tinhuvielartanis: (Danny Orphaeus)
Right, so I'll be at the cinema on 11 May, holding a drool cup, wearing an adult diaper, chain smoking Camel's, slogging down copious amounts of booze, and fanning myself with the biggest fucking fan I can muster.

Vampires in the 70s

tinhuvielartanis: (Maul - snarky)


tinhuvielartanis: (Default)
The Cliffs of Insanity

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