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There are a few things you learn when you do take that long to write something.
First, giving birth to what is, essentially, your baby is. Not. Fun. Okay, yes it was. But my gods, what a little leech.
Try to give yourself a sense of what is actually going to happen before you start the story-writing bit. I know some tales only blossom once you've begun the writing of them, and the one I just finished was one of those. But Jenn, please try to avoid those (not that I'll actually obey my own advice). As I'm typing what I've written (I write most everything long hand first), I'm realizing the absurd amount of work I have to make this Thing comprehensible.
And if you must write in long hand, as you insist, at least make a legible long hand.
Also, keep everything in one notebook. A little scribble in the margin telling me to now go the 'other notebook' is not helpful when I've no idea which bloody 'other notebook' I'm referring to.
Oh, there are many, many other problems with which I must grapple, but I actually need to go grapple with them, rather than complain about grappling with them.
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Learning lyrics in Gaulish is not a simple thing. It is fun, though. And I have beets boiling on the stove for what will become face paint. Eluveitie's in Seattle tomorrow evening and I think I'll paint the horns of Cernunnos curling under each of my eyes. Now, as long as I don't blacken any more burners with overflowing beet juice, I should be set...
I'm home for break and there's a few things that need doing:
*finish first draft of novel, The Broken Earth (not actual title). It's almost done. Truly. The first draft, anyway. The last thirty, forty pages just need to be written.
*finish story-outline for that anthology...
*get double-bassing back up to snuff. Being sick is wretched. Minial practicing and writing and it was torture.
*Learn drum parts for The Silence.
*Finalize setlist.
*Vocal stuff.
*Arrange Memento Mori for marimba.
*Actually be able to play that Bach piece. Argh.
*email people.
*write about my internship...
Lessee. So, how am I accomplishing above, (not so) niggling things? Today, I'm practicing marimba at my old high school. I'd say that's productive. And will write when I get Bach-fatigue.
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Check 'em out. Rough, home-recorded demos . In the stereotypical tradition of the season, listen to Dorian first, perhaps?-- it's about a vampire and NO IT IS NOT IN ANY FREAKING WAY RELATED T
Also, we're currently in the process of looking for/auditioning other musicians (guitar, bass and vocals). So any leads of that sort would be...useful.
Our myspace: Aconitum (add us!)
And our soon-to-be-updated blog:
Comments, critiques, words of any sort are very welcome!
And any tips on vocals and breath support would be much appreciated. Rip my voice apart, please. (And my drumming, too).
I'm high in the darkest of ways. Why? Sonata Arctica, of course. I traveled from Bellingham to Vancouver to see them on Monday and then finally, finally The Days of Grays arrived today.
It's difficult to remember how many opening bands there were besides Sonata and Taking Dawn. See, I just came back early this morning from Edguy-- who had four opening bands. But I suppose that if someone did precede Taking Dawn, they weren't worth remembering. As for Taking Dawn themselves, I don't remember much except that their bassist ran around stage, had hair like curly, blond fire. And their lead guitarist was nice-- he threw a pick at me, it fell short-- I shrugged in an ah, well, better luck next time sort of way and he immediately jumped off stage, picked it and handed it to me.
Now, Sonata. Sonata Freaking Arctica. Lovely, lovely show. Honestly, how could one not consider Tony turning around and smacking his butt as he sings '...then turned another cheek' during Paidin Full lovely? Other lovely things? Well, I suppose it helped that we were front and center, but he was undoubtedly serenading us quite often...or just trying to figure out what was up with the strange girl with the double AAs pain on her face and wrist (by the way...beat juice looks a disconcerting amount like blood...yes...). Tony and Tommy's short beat-boxing/drum solo in the beginning of Fullmoon was also lovely (and amusing). Spinning 'round the stage was lovely. And as usual, Tony had fun twirling the mic stand dangerously close to Elias' head was lovely.
They didn't have endless bounds of physical energy, but their grins were pretty much endless ('cept for Marko, of course, who was just like 'meh, smiling is for the weak...'). Especially Tommy, he really, really seemed to be enjoying himself. In fact, I had much fun pounding my fist along with his parts. And maybe that's why-- for the second time-- he came up and handed his stick directly to me. Yes. *grin* I think drummers just have an internal perucussionist-detector (Look! My brethren! I must give them a stick they probably don't need but will adore anyway!). Ah, how I love being a drummer.
Many other Sonata-shards worthy of being noted, but I'll leave it at that. Oh yes, though: they're coming back early next year. And as for Dragonforce? Heh. We decided to give them the benefit of the doubt, stay for three songs. And about ten seconds into the first song, Erin's asks us if we'd mind leaving after it was finished. I said I wouldn't mind leaving now, so...we did. Their show was kind of...obscene? No offense to them, but it was...yeah. Only thing I regret about leaving early was missing Henkka's bit. Sadness galore, but I'm not sure I would've survived that long.
Also, for my Audio Recording I class, I had to write about the sounds of an album, in preparation for much more technical studies. The album of choice for me was a given.
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The Days of Grays is blissful, torturous insanity—it’s painful, too, in the way that death is painful. I’ve been waiting months to hear the album, resisting temptation to listen when it was released first in Finland and soon after posted on youtube. When it arrived at last in the mail, I went wandering through the dusk-shaded city streets with only the album and my headphones. I specify dusk because of the very nature of the album—it’s all about the edge of life. Borderlines. Ghosts, grays. The spooky, almost merry-go-round-esque piano lines twining ‘round gut-wrenching guitars make a flawless (though in this album, a flawless corruption is probably closest to the truth) theme for the dusk.
Various things noted:
The drums have a soft sound, the cymbals feathery, though they still somehow convey the sort of sound a silken scream might. The snare blends nicely, but has depth and the kick has just enough…well, kick, but it’s not too clicky, like you’ll sometimes get with some metal albums.
Vocals are most clean, undistorted, and powerfully, painfully melodic, but occasionally they’re run a through sort of filter. Beneath the main vocals, run unrelenting (in the best, best way) aahs and oos—harmonizing and layering, layers upon layers of vocals that will be fantastic to wail back at Sonata Arctica when they’re in Seattle early next year.
The guitar solo in As if the World Wasn’t Ending is deeply haunting—something you might hear twining around Stonehenge on the darkest of rainwet and windswept of days, or filtering through cathedral-canopied forests.
At the last song, there’s this madly mixed an explosion of screams, cries—ghost sounds— that swell into an anthem that pulls the album to its end.
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Also, wishing I had money to buy the orchestral version, because listening to Flag in the Ground, it sounds fantastic. Argh. Guess I'll figure it out somehow. So, as much as I hate to get it this way-- does any one know where I could buy mp3s of the orchestrated Days of Grays?
RAISIN.
Yes. I randomly looked up the band Norther and watched one of their videos. Then I mentioned to
Yes, so we both collapsed into laughter.
I actually rather like Wolf and Raven, though I think she was referring to Tony's inability to lip-sync...
So I'm sitting here, writing about a crazy Norwegian who travels by rainbows and blood, watching my roommate rub yeast all over her dog. To save him from fleas. Yes.
Also. Our room is now The Malinornë...ah, yes, we're being very bad by naming it in that forbidden elven tongue of Quenya. My top-bunk is the talon...
Um...yes. Should I even admit to thing like this?
Ah, well. What's done is done.
Now I just have to send it off to
And now, for bed.
Maybe I just live faintly in another world and think up these sort of things because of that. I mean really, magic and powdered mustard? But, ah, whether this world of mine is brain-contained is up for debate. It's not just the spices, though. I mean, human contact for me is lovely, but sometimes I think the company in my head (I talking about my stories. Really) keeps loneliness at bay-- which is why I'm such an expert at anti-socialism. But in the end, I think it's really just a mind trick I play on myself. I like mind-tricks, though, so 'tis all right. Don't worry, friends, I still love you.
I also love travelling with
Eluveitie will be in Vancouver soon, as well, arriving the day before Thanksgiving, which is just perfect because it means I could potentially see them, as classes get out at twelve that day. Perhaps I'll cajole
And...signing off~ Jenn
oh, right--- I'm working on a secret project called Bunnies in Space. Um. Yeah. Don't ask.
My computer can't play sextuplets.
This is extremely embarassing. Not to mention irritating.
Because for some reason Guitar Pro has no idea how to execute a proper flam, they're staying out of the written music. But never fear (oh, yes, I'm sure the non-existent people reading this are just shivering in their boots...or socks...or barefeet...whatever), they will be played.
Computers are so not froody. Or maybe it's the people who don't know how to use them.
AGH!
Where are the grace notes, where are the freaking grace notes?
What difficulty is there in giving me a flam? I NEED A FLAM. (This is Jenn-in-desperation)...
RAH.
The plan is some live blogging' as I attempt to write my drum part for The Silence.
There shall be much chanting of hei! hei! hei! to help me along, because I'm going to need all the aid I can get, since I've absolutely no idea how to use Guitar Pro. Yet. That and half of my notes about the song are currently about 80+ miles away.
Here goes.
I love this song so much.
Unfortunately, the crowd is just drab and the guitar mix leaves something to be desired, but I'm utterly infatuated with this song. It catches in my throat the same way For the Sake of Revenge does. And anyone who has yet to watch this performance needs to, badly. Brilliant and extremely amusing moments (esp. Tony's boisterous hi! during Fullmoon). Tony's vocal play-acting of Caleb (an insane and dear-to-my-heart character whose story has spanned many, many of Sonata's albums) is disturbing and hilarious and terrifying (as it should be). And it's things like this that remind me of the never-forgotten fact that this band has been the one closest to my heart since I was fifteen. As they'll always be. And ARGH that's a long time I've been listening to them...close to five years, now.
Okay, onto completely disparate things. I've been asked to do a poetry reading on September 12th at the Poulsbohemian Coffeehouse and it would be excellent if some people actually showed up. More information over here*, if you're interested. This's the setlist:
Lover's Preconception
Clarity
Fire
Space
Stone and Sea
Bastard Waxes Poetic
'Pleasant'
The Ritual
fall
*If you're intelligent (unlike me) and don't have a Facebook page, this is essentially was it says:
Jenn Reads Her Poetry, meaning: Fire! Poetic Bastards! Stars! A Sacrifice.
Me? Reading my poetry? How dare you miss such a frightening event.
My partner in crime (er, fellow poet who I haven't actually met yet) is Kevin Miller, a published, Washington poet of lovely caliber (or so I've been told and I'm sure it's true).
So come. Join us, whether that means to taste of the 'bohemian's food, shoot up on caffeine, start a cult..or maybe actually listen to some epic poetry. Either way, come. Or heads may roll...
Host: | Poulsbohemian Coffeehouse |
Type: | |
Network: | Global |
Price: | free! (though donations keep the starving artist starving-- as opposed to dead) |
Date: | Saturday, September 12, 2009 |
Time: | 7:00pm - 9:00pm |
Location: | Poulsbohemian Coffeehouse |
Street: | 19003 Front Street |
City/Town: | Poulsbo, WA |
The most enjoyable bit about wearing this splash of boiled-down beet juice and darkness (which was actually some random black make-up I found) was the reaction. When some Japanese tourist's eyes popped and jaw dropped, I just made a face back at him. Numerous times,
But it's a good thing I finally watched Braveheart, though (for the first time-- I know, I know, I fail), because people kept making references to it. But don't you people understand? Woad is blue. Blue.
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My mom's side of the family is full of a bunch of pleasantly obsessive rock-hounds. This past weekend, I joined them in their craziness, embarking on a trip to the Spectrum mines in Southern Oregon.
We arrived late in night, greeted by signs that said things like Ignore this Sign or Area 51 exit next right and Donner Party Bar-B-Q. They were staked into ground that literally glittered. Seriously, like sparkly-sparkles.
In the morning, we did two runs, which means we spent a few hours with our backs bent in half over a quick moving conveyor belt (which was much too low for someone tall like me), picking out sunstones from the crushed rubble emerging from the depths of the earth. Wow. Sounds so epic (not) when I say it like that, especially with such an extreme run-on sentence. But anyway, this was why I could have a career as a miner: because I was (apparently) so quick at picking out the sunstones (I was having a who-can-grab-the-gem-first contest with my mom-- she was failing/flailing—er, sorry mom!-- miserably) that the mine-owner asked me to stay on and work for them...
But really, as amusing and fascinating as it was for a few hours, the scrubby beauty of the sagebrush and dust just wasn't the same as my home's silver and charcoal skies, the rainwet forests (am I glorifying the Pacific Northwest? Nah.) Ah, well. Guess it's nice to know I'm quick, at least.
I spent all the travel time reading The Historian (which has shoved itself at me so many times it seemed it was my fate to read it-- first
So, yeah, that was pretty much the extent of my trip. I've other things to write about, like preparing for this Saturday (when I'm going to er...cosplay, I guess, a Finnish battle-metal-musician....). But right now, I have to get ready to go work with an occasionally (more often than not) aggravating high school drumline.