New and exciting

Hey everyone, my new album is out!  It's called RGB, and is the greatest thing since sliced

Uh

Things.

Bam!  Embed!

Meaningless words

There is a harmonica on my desk, glittering in the ceiling lights.  It speaks to me, and I speak back.  What a wondrous object, a producer of s=weet sweet tones and melodies.  The light reflecting off it is a mirror of the mind, a mirror of the soul.  It looks at me, and I am awestruck.  And alone.  So very alone.

I was going to correct that typo, but I think it fits.

?

ASHFFJOIEAFTUTQQYPQOTIYVJHNONZIMVOUUYEPIRUEOPWIZZZZZ

Thing

I should make a blog post, but I'm too lazy to do anything substantial.  So here is a poem:

Your face is swiss cheese
My hand is gorneese
Widdlewaddle with wocks
Mr. Beejuss wears socks.

Art.

ART

The Penguin Army

As I explore the dastardly time-waster known as Facebook, there are several viral cut-and-paste things.  If you've ever been on the Book of Faces, you've probably seen those before.  You know, the "my favorite character from Glee is Hog Dogerson, like this status and I'll give you a TV show".  Personally, they annoy me, so I decided to take one whose question was "what did you do when you were X age?", and make it my own.  Here is the result:

"When I was 37, I was lord of the penguin army. Of course, in those days, any bucket of decent fish would land you a spot in Penguin Corps, but I feel like I earned that title. We were preparing to go to war against the Polar Bear Federation, and I was getting worried; we didn't have enough manpower in the northern front to hold the line. In desperation, we signed the Penguin-Baby Seal alliance, something which would help us win the war, but come back to haunt us later."

It's important to note that I am not 37 yet.

Fish

There is no more purpose to this post then there is to the sea.  Oh wait, the sea is actually a vital part of the ecosystem, so that analogy is terrible.  But my question is: why are the fish still in the sea?  By now, they could have evolved to the point of sentience, and ascended upon human civilization and set up a very profitable chain of fast-food restaurants.  

Laugh Out Loud

My goodness, that last post was contemplative and serious.  I think it's time for something, in the immortal words of John Cleese, "completely different".

So, there's this one word that I've begun to really despise.  Every time it pops up, I grit my teeth and try not to tell off the person using it.  Is it some awful profanity?  Is it some racial slur?  No.  It's the commonly used abbreviation for Laugh Out Loud: "LOL".

Stay with me.

DID U C HOW MCH PR0N MIKE HAD ON HIS FONE?  LOL!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Quite a few of the commonly used phrases on the interwebs can trace their shady routes back to text messages.  To deal with character limits, impatient teenagers would reduce phrases to shorthand such as "OMG", "ROLFL", "NSFW", and so on (if you're reading this, it's a safe bet that you know what those mean.)  And the abbreviation that had the most permanence was the omnipresent "LOL".  But here's my problem:

It's designed to express emotion, specifically mirth.  But I can't think of any of the previously mentioned shorthands that expresses less emotion then the dreaded short.  When I get that as a response when instant messaging with someone (yes, I know) several times in a row, it makes me feel like I'm talking to a robot.

"HUMAN INTERFACE INITALIZING: REPLYING WITH ACRONYM"   

Some conversations will feel like this:

ME: [Funny joke]

OTHER PERSON: lol

ME: [Hilarious joke]

OTHER PERSON: lol

ME: [Best joke I've ever made ever.]

OTHER PERSON: lol

ME: RESPOND LIKE A HUMAN BEING, DAMMNIT!!!

OTHER PERSON: rofl

And this isn't just me imagining a lack of reaction.  I happened to have a video chat open with a friend of mine, and he was not able to speak, only type (I don't remember the reason).  I, of course, made jokes constantly, and his only reaction to my silliness was to type "lol".  Over and over again.  He didn't react, his face didn't change, nothing.  I wanted to say: "please, don't pretend you find it funny, say something different.

INCLUDE OVERUSED PHRASEBOOK!

What would I prefer?  Well, that's the key question, isn't it?  I understand that Laugh Out Loud is a useful shorthand for people who want to type fast, or for those with a more limited vocabulary (and I say that not to offend, different people are good at different things), who literally might not know a better way to express their emotion (Said people tend to prefer to express themselves in person, but that's another matter).   But a simple "hah" or "hehe" or "nice" would do, something of the sort.  Something that raises the collective intellect of communication beyond teenagers mashing their phones into submission.

Please?

In conclusion, my roflcopter goes swa-swa-swa.

Yes.

  

Night Owl

I've always been a night owl, night-time is as comfortable to me as daytime is to others.  And I'm no stranger to lack of sleep either, which perhaps more then a little worrying.  I prolong sleep with stubborn determination.  Eventually, though, my body has it's way, and I am forced into the the arms of Morpheus.

Not pictured: Me.

Speaking of Morpheus, I'm fairly sure he takes a substantial hit of LSD before carrying me off into dreamland, because my dreams almost always tend towards the completely insane.  Now, I can almost hear you saying: "of course they're insane, they're dreams," but by even the standards of dreams, my midnight imaginings are particularly surreal, and always different.

I haven't had this dream yet, though.  Probably just a matter of time.

One of my dreams involved sailing an endless sea that I somehow knew covered then entire world.  Majestic, sparkling waterfalls fell from the few rocky outcroppings that hadn't been consumed by the waves.  In the distance, I could see tornadoes made out of silver, gyrating and twisting in on themselves.  It was beautiful, and yet profoundly alien.

I hope you aren't hydrophobic.

I was having a conversation with my sister, and she was telling my about a crazy dream she had about her, her friend Victoria, and the character Edward from Twilight playing cards together, or something, and all I could think was: "that is NOTHING".  Most people have dreams that are slightly connected to reality, or at least are somewhat plausible, like failing a test or something, and everybody laughs at you, perhaps.  Or dreams that contain a celebrity like, well, Edward Cullen.  I tend to have nothing of the sort.

OMG ROBERT PATINSEN IS SO HOTTTTTtTTttTtTT *explodes*

As a musician, I hear music and rhythm everywhere: in the tick-tick of a turn signal cycling, the steady click of high heels on marble, and even the typing of a keyboard.  And I hear it in my dreams.  As I sleep, I'll hear an amazing song, a revolutionary song, a song that defies understanding and breaks genre lines, and I'll wake up wondering what that song was.  And then I'll realize that my mind composed it while I was asleep, and I'll feel slightly sad, because I'll know that nothing I can make while I am awake can ever stack up to the greatness of what my subconsciousness can compose.

"It's pronounced MOWG!!!"

I wonder sometimes what life would be like if the framework of dreams was our reality, if the ever-shifting psychological soup of the mind was how we lived our lives.  I don't think it's much of a stretch to say: if that were true, life would be more then a little bit strange.  A world where the laws of physics and logic simply do not apply, a world shaped by the subconscious of the beings living on it would be quite a world indeed. 

Gives a different meaning to "living the dream", doesn't it?  

Reasoning

The reason there has not been any new blog posts is that the "compose" feature of Blogger seems to be broken, so I can only type in the HTML tab. To most people, I have started speaking in tongues, but to the few that understand what I am talking about are most likely wincing. Or perhaps not. Perhaps they are enjoying my pain, the sadists.

The New Dog

The New Dog

Carl looked at the customer, who looked back at him in silence.  Carl had seen stranger customers in his pet store before, but this one was a close runner for the strangest, right behind the woman who was wearing a live sloth as a hat.  His hair stuck out at peculiar angles, seemingly at random, and it was dyed a violent shade of purple.  It gave him the look of a wilted flower.  Surprisingly, the dogs who populated the store had not gone insane with barking when he entered.  Carl didn’t know what to make of that.

Carl finally decided to break the awkward silence.  “So...”, he said, “what, uh, can I do for you?”
The man stared at Carl blankly for a second, and seemed to snap to attention.  “Ah, yes.” he said.  “I would like to buy...” He paused for thought, as though searching for a word.  He finally settled on “dog.”  “I would like to buy a dog.”
“Well, what kind?” inquired Carl politely.
“There’s more then one kind?”
Carl blinked at the customer.  Several times, privately thinking that this customer most likely had multiple screws loose.    “Yes.  Easily more than seventy breeds.”
The customer (Carl had started to call him “Wiltyman” in his head) looked at Carl as though he was from Planet Strange and said “What?  Are you sure?”

Carl sighed inwardly.  “Yes, I’ve worked with dogs my whole life.  I’m sure.”

Wiltyman looked shocked.  “This,” he said, “will complicate my decision immensely.  I thought dogs only came in one form, like plastic trays.”

This time Carl sighed out loud, pinching the bridge of his nose.  “No, as you can clearly see if you look around you, sir, there is more than one breed of dog.”  

Wiltyman looked as though every principle he built his life on had been compromised in an instant.  “Well then,” he said, “I will have to put some time into thinking about this for sure.  Yes, some time indeed.”  He stood there, scratching a beard he didn’t have, suddenly pointed, and exclaimed “that one!”

Carl turned and looked at the dog he was pointing at.  “Oh, that one?  That’s rather a special kind of Dog.  You sure?” The Dog awoke, swivelling its sensor unit toward the source of the noise.

“Yes, I am sure.  That looks like the dog for me!” declared Wiltyman.  

“Alright”, said Carl wearily, “C’mere boy.”

The Dog rose to its feet, with a hissing of pistons and motors.  It went to stand beside Carl, its sensory array blinking red.  Faint whirring noises accompanied its every movement.  
“He seems friendly enough,” said Wiltyman. “What breed is he?”
“I don’t know, Pekingese, I think,” replied Carl, patting the Dog’s head with a clanking noise.  
“I’ll take him!” said Wiltyman, and paid, filled out the forms, and all that rigmarole, quick as you please.  “Come on boy!” he said triumphantly, “let’s go!”
“CONFIRMED,” said the Dog.  

Willtyman, whose name was in fact Gus, quite liked his new Dog.  It took him a bit to realize that it ate iron filings and scrap metal rather than dog food, and drank motor oil rather than water, but other than that, it was smooth sailing.  Although the first walk was very strange...

“Alright boy,” said Gus cheerfully, “are you ready for your walk?”

“THIS UNIT IS PREPARED FOR RECONNAISSANCE ACTION,” blared the Dog, through its speaker grille.  Gus couldn’t think of a good name for his new pet, so he just named it Dog.  He thought it was appropriate.  

Gus brought the Dog over to his friend Albert’s house, and knocked on his door.  “Albert!” he called, “I have a new dog!”

“I’ll be right there!  I’m just hanging up these lightbulbs to dry, give me a second!” came Albert’s shouted reply.  Ah, lightbulbs, thought Gus.  Albert was a renown electrician.  Gus could still recall his advice of “remember Gus, always keep your lightbulbs clean with a little soapy water.”  

Gus’s thoughts were interrupted by Albert opening the door, the pinstripe suit he always wore in plain view.   “Well,” he said, “that’s a fine looking dog, I must say.”

“ORGANIC PRESENCE DETECTED,” said the Dog, a telescopic eye extending from its head to examine Albert.  “PROCESSING,” it said.  The clicking of lenses could be heard.  
Albert chuckled.  “Well, and it talks too, how bout’ that.”

The Dog’s eye retreated, and it began speaking.  “SUBJECT ANALYZED.  SUBJECT: IS WHITE MALE, FIVE FEET NINE INCHES TALL, BROWN EYES, BLACK HAIR, BALDING, BELOW-AVERAGE IQ.  ABOVE-AVERAGE BMI INDEX.  SEXUAL PREFERENCE: PAPER DOLLS.”
Albert chuckled again.  “How bout’ that.”

After some time spent walking, where the majority of the time was spent convincing the Dog that cars were not “MANNED ASSAULT VEHICLES,” Gus, Albert, and the Dog arrived at the park, where they let the Dog off the leash.  It walked around some, and eventually found a pigeon.   

“Where’d you find that dog?” queried Albert, as the Dog, completely still, stared at the pigeon.

“I bought him.  The pet store owner said he was a Pekingese.” replied Gus, watching the Dog.  

“COLLECTING SAMPLE,” said the Dog.  Lighting-quick, a grappling arm shot out of the Dog, grabbed the pigeon, and sucked it inside.  “ANALYZING,” said the Dog, and a series of crunching and grinding noises came from within its frame, and red and green lights flashed all over its body.  

Albert nodded.  “Looks like it,” he said, as the Dog ejected a thoroughly analyzed, and very dead pigeon forty feet away and into the air, and directly into the lap of a very surprised elderly lady.  

Albert looked at the Dog thoughtfully, as the elderly lady, who now had a lapful of what could only be compared to pigeon meatloaf, reacted with pitch and volume.

“Tell me,” inquired Albert, “has he gotten his shots yet?”

A parting thought

[NAME CENSORED]: Farewell!
Snooglebum: Goodbye!
Snooglebum: I will leave you with a parting thougth
Snooglebum: Thought.
Snooglebum: WHich is this:
Snooglebum: Don't let bees eat your pudding!
[NAME CENSORED AGAIN] is now Offline.
Your state is set to Offline.

Fact Und Fiction

May 3rd:
Well, hello there, you’re looking fine, my good virtual diary.  Today was quite the day!  I went out shopping with my mother, and got several bits of produce, therefore confirming the meaningless of my existence.  I sometimes wish I didn’t have to eat to survive, it would be convenient.  

May 4th:
I had a interesting dream last night; I was riding a minecart.  Inside the minecart was me, my sister, and a giant, anthropomorphic talking egg.  As far as I recall, we were trying to escape some sort of dictatorship.  It was very strange, to say the least.

May 5th:
We watched a film in class!  It involved an ape and a woman, and was quite the letdown, let me tell you.  

There he is.  Cheerful fellow.

May 7th:
I have been absent from my computer for some time, as I have been out playing Skeeball with some friends.  It is a game of skill, dexterity, and reflexes, and in terms of sheer challenge, it’s only match is tiddlywinks.  I swapped the tickets won for a large prosthetic animal, and now feel quite good about myself.


May 8th:
Quite the rainstorm today, in fact, there was a tornado warning.  I hate tornado warnings, because the part of my brain that takes care of such things interprets them less as “warnings” and more as “certainties”.  Because of this, the amount of times I have been convinced a oscillating death is upon me when it is more then it should.

May 11:
I am currently chewing upon a tissue box.  I wonder if it objects to the experience?  I mean, if it were to sprout a mouth and voice it’s objections, would it?  Or would it be pleased at the attention?  This bears thinking about.

May 12: Longcat is looooooooooooooooong.

May 13thhhhhh:
I wish I had prehensile hair so that I could traverse uneven terrain with ease, using my hair.  

May 14tH:
I meditated today, visualizing a typhoon made up of multiples of the face of the TV star Charlie Sheen.  It was a calming experience.

 

The colors are as calming as the imagery. 

Пятнадцатого мая:
Giant dinosaurs: if they could fly, I wonder if they would sing?  A song written by them:
I AM A FLYING DINOSAUR
IN THE SKY
I WILL DESTROY THE EARTH
AFTER EATING PIE
WRHURHRUHRUHRURHURHRUHRURHRUHRURHRUU

May 16th:
AH NEED JOO TEWNIGHT, DOOO DODODO DODODOOOOOOO.  MAEEGS ME SWET

May or may not 17th:
I am looking at my computer desktop.  It is a sorry sight.  Icons are scattered this way and that, like dead leaves in a pond.  I really should organize it, but whenever I think of doing that, a crushing sorrow descends upon my heart, and the desire leaves me.  

The blue TF2 backround really adds to the pond metaphor.  

May 21st:
I seem to have fallen into a time-hole, Doctor Who style.  Inside this hole is a banana, a poster for the Cracker Barrel, one of those little 4th of July tanks that you light up that throw sparks everywhere, and a monkey that is performing Beethoven's 3rd movement backwards.  How he’s performing it backwards is beyond me, perhaps he is a DJ and is proficient with sample reversing.  Classical music DJ monkey.

MAEY TWNTERY SECOOND:
Shoop!  Wanananaana!  I’m not even winded!  Is anybody keeping track of my head batted’ in?  Boink!  Hey chuclekenuts!  You’re like a car crash in slow motion, I can see you, boom!  Right through a windshield!  I REGRET EVERYTHING!  EVERYTHING I’VE EVER DONE!

May Twnty Three:
I have been playing far too much Team Fortress 2.  MAAAAAAAAAGGGOTS!!!!

May 25th:
Lawalalalalawwawlawlawlawlwalaw

May 26th:
EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE

May 31st:
RUN

May 34th:
I WONDER WHAT IT WOULD BE LIKE TO DROP A CONCRETE MOLD OF ABRAHAM LINCOLN INTO A SWISS CHEESE VAT

A small reward upon capture.

June 1st:
Well, enough of that silliness.  

My Note Taking Process

The notes that I take tend to be rather useless, because most of them tend to read like this:

Experimental Films - Ahead of their time.  Very nice of my teacher to say that.  Theery relyy on self expresssisisojnnnnn.  THEY REBEL AGAINST THE STANDARD FORM OF FILMMAKING!  FREE AGAINST THE COMMERCIAL THING!  SOMETIMES REJECT HOW A FILM IS EXHIBITED!  VIVA LA RESISTANCE!!!  Also called underground films, avant-garde, also... personal films?  Really?  Aha!  Independant films!  Wait, they're not the same.  What?  Nonsesne!  What is this teacher talking about!


(Also, my apologies for all these school-related blog posts, the imaginary friends who are reading this, I am currently on the last day of class, so college is rather on my mind now.)

National Nation Day

There are several holidays on the calendar that seem to be no more then an excuse to imbibe and detonate explosives, so I felt like it would go unnoticed to add my idea of a new, pointless holiday to the revelry: National Nation Day.

On this, most celebrated of days, we would all celebrate the formation of our national nation.  We would all eat baked treats in the shape of our beloved country, and we would wave flags featuring our landmarks committing acts of petty crime against other countries.  Root beer spiked with cranberry juice would be the drink of choice, and for sport, all the strapping lads and lasses would go pigeon hunting.

It would quite the holiday.

Keep It Up, Don't Stop, Don't Lose Your Place

I was feeling a bit down, so I opened up iTunes, hoping that a song would cheer me up.  "Lighthouse", by New Villager came on, and the effect was immediate.  I took on the most peculiar expression: a smile tinged with casual confidence spread wide across my face, and I was swept up by a feeling of euphoria.  I wanted to laugh and cry at the same time.  I knew I had to capture this feeling with words, before it evaporated like mist.  What an amazing song.

Even More Movie Class Notes.

Because the one of two people who read this blog said they were amused by the last entry, here are more hurriedly typed and misspelled notes from my movie class.

SCRITPSZ

Screenplay - The original script.  John is a writer.  

Shooting script - OH SHIT I FORGOT TO WRITE THIS DOWN.  CRAP

Storyboard - series of drawings showing a visual representation of a film.  If elaborated, called cells.  CELLS JOHHNY, CELLS

Mike and Alex are storyboarders.  John is still a writer.  Probably a very talented, avant-garde writer.

TAKE ME DAOWN TO PARADDIESE CITY WHEAR THE GRASS IZ GREEN AND THE GURLZ R PRITTY!!!  OOOHHH WAOUNT YOU PLEEEEZ TAEK ME HOOEOEEEEMMMMM!!!!!!!

Cutting Contiunity - a description of the finished film. 

"TREACHERY OF THE HIGHEST ORDER!  I WILL REPORT THIS TO THE HIGH COUNCIL!!!"
"You will report nothing."  *bang*.   I can imagine my teacher saying that first line in a crazy, hammy voice.  Kind of like a Space Marine.  BAATTLE BROOOTHERS!!!

What If Our Heads Were Mushrooms?

Fig 1. Scary Glowing UFO Mushroom

Think about it.

If our heads were replaced with with glowing, multicoloured fungi.  As we walked, we would spread spores all around, breeding new mushroom-heads that would grow up around us.  Then again, it may cause overpopulation problems, so that would have to be dealt with.  Perhaps unnecessary mushroom-heads could be eaten.  It would be nutritious!  

I still think it would be cool though.  Different mushrooms could could indicate social status, vibrant Lactarias Indigo would sprout from the necks of the rich and privileged, and the poor and downtrodden would posses mere Fly Agaric for noggins. 

We'd have to maintain them of course, and water them and things like that.  Knowing humans, rituals would probably form this process.  Watering rituals.  Yes.

This post made more sense in my head.

More Movie Class Notes

 I am currently in movie class, and the teacher is lecturing.  He is lecturing about things I already know about, and have internalized, so my notes turned out to be somewhat amusing. 

BASIC SIX TRANSITIONS:

1. Cut - move with one scene to the next. 

2. Match/Form Cut - leave one, go to the next, matches up. 

3. Jump Cut - Sudden cut from one scene to the next.  Surprises and disorients the viewer. 

4. Fade in/out - You know what this is.  Derpy derp. 

5. Dissolve - Bring one shot over the next, YOU KNOW WHAT THIS IS AS WELL YOU'VE USED ALL OF THESE

6. Wipe - YOU'VE USED EVERY SINGLE ONE OF THESE IN EVERYTHING YOU'VE DONE WHY AM I EVEN TAKING NOTES GAH I WANT TO PUT CANDY CANES IN MY EARS

7. He's talking about Star Wars.  Kay.  

8. "Cascana" should be a real word.  It sounds like a thing. 

9. YESH!!!!!  YESH!!!!!

10. Oh hey, it's that annoying FBI warning.  YOU WOUNLDDNT STEAL A CARRRRRR!!!!!!

11. Mollusk. 

12. I'm done with numbers. 

We're watching Sahara!

"RWHAHAAHTATCHAHRAHCHAHAR!  FOURFIFITY SAMAMAPRAFAFTARAHARA!!!"

"Stoptiszsz, Kenszzz.  Stopsszzits!!!"

Well, there's that. 

Blank

It's 11:32 AM, and I am looking at a blank screen.

I feel like the empty sheet of paper has been romanticized in American literature.  It symbolizes a new beginning, a template from which one can start again from; it also can symbolize frustration, a lack of creativity, a absence of thought.  For me, right now, it symbolizes me being tired and writing a strange blog post.

Why did I write this?

Train of thought

I have been taking a film class (actually quite a good one), and I have recently had the pleasure(?) of seeing the original 1931 version of King Kong.  I was taking notes on my laptop as I watched it, and I thought an internet person might want to see them.  In retrospect, this is a stupid plan.  Oh well.

You may see a lot of spelling errors, and the notes will show up in a strange, archaic font.  This is because I was using Notepad to type with.

Yeah, that thing.  As you might expect, it does not have a spellcheck.

I have located some of the best (or at least as good as one could get in this situation) notes, and compiled them. Here they are.  I cannot promise they will be interesting, funny, or even coherent.  The only thing I changed was to add clarifications to whoever is talking in the quotes.

This is already not promising.

And it's getting less promising.  

Everybody talks strangly, perhaps I should write it.  it might be funny

"I'LL GET A GIRL FOR MY PITCHUR, EVEN IF I HAVE TO MARRY HER!!!" - The Director Guy.

It's like it's reading from a book of stereotypes of female characters.  Soft focus!  Fainting!  Lady in distress!  

"NOOEEEEE FUNNY BUISHNESS" - That Director Guy

"HEYLAMANOONTHEWINCHGETHAHAMANONDECKANFARMHANDDECKANHAND!!!!!!!!!!!" - Angry Sailor

Oh my god, this is like the sexism handbook.  

Great, stereotypical chinese man as well.  Peachy.  This movie is racist as well as sexist.

That one shipmate is a complete asshole.  Jesus.  "JUST BEING AROUND IS TROUBLE.  WOMEN ARE ARE NUSICENSE.  THEY BELONG IN THE KITCHEN!".  What's worse is she agrees with him.  Gah.

"YOUTHINKIMAFALLFORRADAME!?" - Unpleasant sailor that also happens to be the male lead.  Kill me now. 

The big chart!  Hahaha, that's great.  

When they showed the islad, I almost expected a picture of Charlie Sheen or something.  

"Did you ever hear of....... KONG?" <- that line kills me for some reason.  

Urgh, the sexism in this movie is really bothering me.  Its distracting,is what it is.  I suppose I shouldn't rag on an aspect of a movie this old, but still... ugh.

"THATS NOT BREAKERZ, EETZ DRUMSZ!!!" - Director guy.  

Guns!

Birds!  

Boat!

"AQUENNATENYBOATS!!!" - I don't even remember. 

"OHHIWISHWELEFTYOUONTHESHIP" - Asshole sailor guy again.  

Tribesmen!  My my.  What is all this?  

How can the director get a picthooor and not be sseen if he's shouting all the time?  Ah, they've been spotted. 

HHahahaha, I love how the tuba hits are synced to the tribal leaders footstps.  So classic. 

"GREAT!  FINDOUTWHATCHERGOUNADEW!" - ...The Director?  I don't even remember.
    
Bollam la potato?  Those tribesmen sound like they're saying cooking recipes.  


That was just some of the most messed up dialogue ever.  "I, uh... suppose I love you."  "But I thought you hate women?" "Well, I... uh, suppose I do."  lolwut.  

SNEAK ATTACK!  +1 BLONDE DAME ACQUIRED!  

Here is a V: \\//

"wentowally?  Whenweleavethisplace, menolike!" - Racist Stereotype Chinese guy.  Charlie was his name, I think.  

My god, that scene where everyone is yelling is absolute gold.  EVERYWYOWNENEYRWHWHOAEVERYWHOAONDEACFKCAHWHOAEVERYONWHOAONEVERYAWHOAONDECKWEYOEANVCVHON!!!

Where did these tribesmen get a brass band?  

"olaaoalololaolaololaoalaoalaoalaoalaoalaoalaoalaolaoalaoaloaloaloalaolaoala!" - Tribesmen

sOPEN THE GATE!  ...sopen the gate?  

...what

Ah, I see what's going to happen here.  she's going to attachefd to the pillars, and then ol' Kong will come and om nom nom her.  Makes sense.  

God, this music is so Melodramatic.  

Gong!  The Gong summons the Kong!  It all makes sense now! 

THERE HIS IS
AHAHAHAAHAHAHAHAHAHAAH    
Actually, the close-ups on hsi face look pretty good.  The other parts, not so much.  

Here comes the cavalry, haha, tiny stop-motion puppet.  

"BRANK-KAYBRANK!  ALRIGHTLETHSHSHEY STEY HERE WITHHALFMENGUARDINGHERE!!" -The Director, surprise surprise.  He seems to always be shouting.  

For some reason, this is making me watn to watch A Clockwork Orange.  

"Alsperlobird!" <- I don't even remember what this is.  

"C'mon fellas, keep those guns cocked!".  Naughty.  

It's a stergosaurus!  Or whatever.  WaIT, what?  They weren't aggressive.  RESEARCH IS FOR BABIES.  

"Whaddya call this thing?" <-The line after they killed the non-aggressive stegosaurus.  I really wish that -> "Oh, probably a rear-projection." was the actual reply, because that's what it was. 

I like how those dudes are just standing on the pallet while the other guys are moving it like servants.  Jeez..  

What other badly-researched threat will they face now?  

Hey, it's the Loch Ness Monster!  Hi Nessie!  

Wait, I don't think those weren't aggressive either.  weren't they herbavores?  

YEah, I think those were definitely one of the harmless ones.  Diplosaurs?  The only risk from those dudes was getting accidentally stepped on.  They ate plants.  

That transition bbetween claymation and llive-action was smooth, I must admit.  

At least there;'s no sexism going on; there's no talking.  Just craziness and an annoying score.    

"OOOOOOAAAOOAAOAAOAOAOA!!!! *Dies*"

I can't take the claymation seriously, because it's all moving at twice normal speed.  

Heh, Kong's like HEY DOWN THERE, HEY!  HEY!  YOU!  GIT OUT FROM THERE!"  

Aha!  A T-rex!  Finally, an actual dinosaur that was proven to be aggressive.  

"Oh!  Aah!  Aiie!  *hides face*"

Eww, that was pretty nasty, actually.  Props to them.  

I love Kong's look.  -> :=D

Shneak away?  

This score is reminding me of Looney Tunes in the way that it starts and stops.  

Ick.  Well played with the dead t-rex, filmmakers, pretty nasty for 1931.  

Welp, looks like the second half of my notes were erased.  Oh well, they weren't very interesting.    

Back to this.

I've decided to get back to blogging, even though nobody reads it.  Why?  I don't know, perhaps it's an outlet for literary creativity or some nonsense like that, or perhaps I'm just stupid.  But after several months of absence, I will continue.

Instead of blogging about music, I have changed my mind: this blog will be about anything I want.  This fits my scatterbrained approach to things, and lets me include all sorts of strange ramblings on many irreverent things.  Haven't you ever wondered why you have teeth, rather then tiny chainsaws?  Exactly.

Ladytron

I never thought pop could be interesting, that it could be a realm for experimentation and new ideas.  With a couple of exceptions, it all sounded the same; meaningless drivel with no creativity, with painfully recycled lyrics all about the same damn thing.

Then I heard Ladytron.

A quick explanation of who these people are.  Ladytron is a quartet of British artists that blend electropop dance beats with sweeping, retro-style new wave synth lines.  They get their signature sound from a vintage Korg MS20.  They've changed their style over the years, becoming more polished, but that retro-meets-modern fusion has never quite left. 

Something I find fascinating about Ladytron is that in terms of structure, their music bears a superficial resemblance to mainstream pop like Lady Gaga, Britney Spears, Roisin Murphy, etc.  But you give it a closer listen, and it's different.  It's eerie.  The vocals are emotionally detached, and sound like they're coming from far, far away.  The instrumentation is synth-heavy and moody, fleshing out the unearthly vocals.

Unlike some of the other artists I've written about, Ladytron have actually achieved some measure of renown.  Their music has shown up in video games like LittleBigPlanet and Need For Speed, and even the Sims.  Their music is played on the radio once in a blue moon, and they seem to halfway made the transition to underground artist to above ground hit, if you'll excuse the pun.

In conclusion, the kids are free, and all the need is a gift from their mom and dad.

Clark - Empty The Bones Of You

Empty The Bones Of You is not Clark's most popular album.  It was done before he dropped the "Chris" from his name, and while it's not exactly shoved aside, Warp doesn't highly advertise it, and Clark has changed his style of music since then.  But, it happens to be my personal favorite Clark album.
 


                           

Most of his music is hyperactive and experimental, with insane, intricate beats underpinning melodies that fly around the scale like there's no tomorrow, with heavy distortion accompanying them.  Empty The Bones Of You is a nice change from that.  It's quiet, introspective, and oh so creepy.

"Betty", for instance.  It opens sounding like a Boards Of Canada track, meditative and slightly upbeat.  And then, subtly at first, then not so subtly, starts sounding wrong.  The entire track conveys a sense of creeping anxiety and fear, a sense of dreading what's to come.  It's excellent.  There's also the songs "Holiday As Brutality" and "Slow Spines", which I consider to be a pair.  Like "Betty", they project a feeling of uncertainty, with high-pitched whistles and glacial, crunching beats moving the song along.

But my favorite song off the album has to be the delightfully unsettling "Umbilical Hut".

This song sounds like it was thrown together by some Lovecraftian creature that has only a loose grasp of how music fits together.  Unidentifiable, sweeping industrial underscore worryingly organic sliding noises, along with clacking akin to a giant insect clicking it's mandibles together.  There are odd pauses and gaps in the music where there really shouldn't be, and the song as a whole is the aural equivalent of something crawling into your ear and rooting around in your brain.  

The album isn't perfect, of  course.  Some of the songs are too repetitive, and others aren't that great.  But in my opinion, it's excellent either way.

The third, and final part of these posts will be up soon.  Soon-ish.

Waterflame

Here's a quick, snack-sized break between the epic odyssey of those Clark posts, with the Swedish techno artist, Christian Krogsvold, better known as Waterflame.  Waterflame is one of those artists who I don't like, per say.  I like some of the songs off Green, his one commercial album, but I can't really get on board with his style of music, for the most part.

However, he's one of those artists I can respect.  He uses FL Studios, same as I do, and man, does he get the most out of it.  He makes jump through hoops at his command, and the amount of production and care that goes into pretty much any of his songs is remarkable.  He's been using it since at least 2004, at his expertise consistently shines through.  In short, he's gotten good at this.  Although his best work was earlier, in my opinion, when his music didn't seem as hyperactive, he still knows how to get the most out of the software.

But here's the issue I have with him.  His songs are intricate, energetic, and expertly produced, yes.  But the problem is, they all sound the same.  They're all bubbly dance anthems, or formulaic drums & bass.  Some of them break the mold, like the excellent "Emotion Burst Locomotion", a giddy celebration of being alive, "Jazzbot" (which I could not find a video of, unfortunately), a groovy robotic funk-fest, and "8-Bit Clouds", which is what it says on the tin.

Ultimately though, most of his work ends up sounding like one worn-out, run-together song.  It's all the same beats, the same tempo, the same poppy synths and frantic melodies.  Of course, that's just a matter of personal taste, and if you like that sort of thing, I can see you getting more out his music.  But that's my personal stance on it.

What's funny about Waterflame is that whenever he deviates from his normal style, it always sounds incredible.

snooglebum.com

Clark - Body Riddle

Warp Records can be used as a sort of windsock for experimental electronica.  They've got all the (relatively) big names: Aphex Twin, Brian Eno, Squarepusher, Flying Lotus, Seefeel, if you've heard of IDM at all, you've probably heard of these guys.  They also host the smaller names, like Clark.

I have a lot to say about this guy, so it's likely I'll be splitting it up into multiple posts.

Chris Clark, who just goes by Clark nowadays to avoid confusion, has no problem with flip-flopping between moods like there's no tomorrow.  Some of his songs are sweeping, majestic journeys through layered synth lines that transport you to another, throughly alien world, while others are slow and quiet, conveying a sense of menace and creeping horror that makes them unique.

Clark's put out a number of EP's and LP's, but I'm just going to be talking about three: Body Riddle, Empty The Bones Of You, and Totems Flare, as those are the ones that jump out the most for me.  I'll probably touch on his other albums a bit.  Let's start with Body Riddle.

Describing Body Riddle is difficult.  Some of the songs, such as the high-spirited glockenspiel-driven "Night Knuckles", and the overwhelming, chaotic dance number "Ted" approach normal music.  However, other songs are indescribably weird.

"Roulette Thrift Run" has a squealing, disturbingly organic synth line that sounds like an octupus is randomly hitting the keys, a what could be an 8-year old humming a completely different song.  It's not the quite pure sonic experimentation of artists like Aphex Twin, but very close.

Other songs are marginally more sane.  "Herzog" is an excellently-crafted sweeping epic that's mostly percussion free, "Frau Wav" is what sounds like a jazz-meets-orchestral track with the drummer going nuts on the drums, and "Dew On The Mouth" and "Springtime Epigram" both make quiet interludes between the madness.

To be continued, or whatever.

http://snooglebum.com/