la la laaa

I’m done with classes, and once I finish a final paper, I will have completed seventeen years of formal education. I am more than ready-willing to leave this life-track after high school, you go to college and then what? I’m not going to grad school. I need to pay bills and loans, but to start a “career?” Eh. Hm. Well. Uh.

Can anyone recommend some good books, essays, and movies about or exemplifying the Satanic scare of the 1980s? General resources on popular youth culture during the Reagan administration (because of said political and implied social climate?—sure) would also be appreciated, as would any academic and theoretical commentary on zombies. Oh, and if anyone has any old, unwanted death-metal cassettes lying around, send ’em my way. Also, if you need a copyeditor (preferably for hire), hey, guess what—I just looked up whether “administration” and “Satanic” would be capitalized in the above usages because I actually care.

I made a junky-but-fun flash movie thing and a rather awesome video made from stills in my electronic arts class. I hoped to upload the flash project but I can’t get it working properly, and the video is too massive for my server. So trust me, they’re cool? Beh. I’ll try to figure something out.

Bad Religion passed through with a frenzy a couple weeks ago. They played “Get Off” and “Infected” (!!!), and yes, I died. Danced. Thrashed. Shouted along, tearing up despite the enormous man stationed in the center of the pit, lock-knee kicking and arm wind-milling all “I AM THE EYE OF THE STORM!” and right in my way ugh, but he was having fun, so it’s hard to fault ‘im (I try to stick to the center myself—it’s the only place to really dance).

Heavily favoring Recipe For Hate, an album recorded in 1993, BR did a creepy-fine job of reflecting the repetition of reality. RFH, written much in reaction to the Gulf War, is just as relevant—and revelatory—today as it was ten years ago. For one helluva good article about this, check out this essay at Ink19. Or. Just. Buy. The album. Heh.

Kidneys kidneys kidneys. I’ve had more trouble. My roommates have been very kind. Scott, for instance, used the money he extorted from me through the utility bills to buy me a heating pad, and Anna stole and made me Heather’s cranberry juice to improve the quality of my pee. (Anna’s good at taking charge. When she and Heather couldn’t stop eating my frosting, she threw it out so it wouldn’t tempt them. Yep.) Thanks much, guys, you’re the best!

My symptoms with this stupid crap have changed. I still feel feverish all the time, but instead of the few-and-far-in-between episodes of screaming on the floor in pain, it’s now more of a dull ache that lasts several hours (days) with the occasional urge to vomit. Last Tuesday I had a CT scan. I have stones in both kidneys and an “abnormality” they’ve yet to identify.

They said don’t worry and I think yeah, right when I wake and just know, the nausea’s creeping up and my body’s on notice every ache, every short breath the hurt in my flanks and holes in my chest, I visit them all, searching for the canswer why do I feel this way, when will it stop? I’ll see a specialist not soon enough. < mer >

Though by admitting this I risk getting my ass kicked by concerned loved ones, after missing work, going to Emergency, and getting a scan with scary results, I then went to a concert Tuesday night—Assemblage 23 at Ground Zero. The opener was Stromkern. –>Who is this band, and why do they keep opening for groups I actually want to see? Eh. They improve. I guess. And I like the singer’s style, soundin like Satan but lookin like a math rocker.

Ahem. In review: A23, created and controlled by Tom Shear who has back-up help for live shows, was somewhat dissapointing. Good, but… huh. It being their first time playing the Cities, musically they were on (there’s nothing cooler than an electronic drum kit—nothing) but vocally it was weak; they sounded like they were covering themselves.

Perhaps Shear’s voice was just worn out (it was the end of the tour) or maybe overproduced when recorded. < shrugs > They were, however, very personable and having fun, which always earns big ups with me, a sucker-supreme for non-rockstar personalities. Impressed with the turnout (in Minneapolis! on a Tuesday!), Shear repeatedly complimented the hell out of us… but almost to the point of degradation. I’m hardly one to speak for the Twin Cities darksider scene, but come on… a little respect, eh? At least don’t stress ignorance right in front of us. Yeah, there’s more than half a dozen darkwave/EBM fans in the TC metro, yeah, we know the lyrics to the songs of the bands that deign to come here, and yeah, nearly all of us dance, nearly all of the time. Some of us even look evil. 😐

Oh well. All in all, it was fun, even despite my poor health.

Today I’ve been listening on repeat to what are possibly the three greatest songs ever in succession—not necessarily great alone, but playing off into bleeding all together? it’s unreally wow, home and a lot of places I’d like to go: Fluke’s “Setback,” “Amp,” and “Reeferendrum” on the album Risotto. Six, seven, and eight heal the sick places and ache the ones I didn’t know I had. I thought the dearhearts up ‘n died, but Fluke is supposed to have an album out this year. Find yerself the mp3 of one of their latest, “Pulse” (plus remixes!), and get excited with me. 😀

If you actually read all of that, holy crap. High five. **takes a nap**


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