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Dec. 14th, 2006
Pastiche, approximation, and Whitechapel
Dec. 14th, 2006 08:45 amAuction /concert somewhere, Justin, from Horizons, is there, and ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
kitsuchan, with bakeneko. I jump offstage, and into the crowd, when it's over, to co-ordinate meetings and people.
A walk down a street, through an enourmous comic store to which I've never been, with my mother andmech_angel, finding things they want, wiching I could buy them for them. My mother calls me on the phone, and I'm her office, where I work, too, and I'm a novelty. Everyone wants to talk to me, give me information, or treat me like a sideshow. Something about words or phrases written on pieces of paper that weren't mine, a newspaper I didn't buy, but belonged to me.
Wandering up and down my great aunt's street, my grandmother's streets, I'm ansilarily connected to some organisation, which is trying to protect someone, or something, and it's like the Secret Service, only moreso, and we're testing our ability to spot a gun, from a mile. I tell them how far a mile is, and send them off, while holdnig a crossbow, in the windowpointed down the way, through the trees. Flashes of all the other sections of dream. I go after them, because something terrible has happened, but I don't have my boots. I end up running back through some park on the east side of the neighbourhood. Through a golf course or maybe that's someone else's dream.
I get back to the party, and Eddy Nahmias is there, along with various other professors. It feels like Christmas, with family, is the setting.techiecl and I are playing the "let's name Continental Philosophers" game, to see who can be more obscure. This goes on, for a while, with me trying to eat two antacid tablets, at once, and they're foaming strangely.
The television is broken, andmech_angel and I have come to see raoin and Patrick, to hang out, watch TV, and read comics. The Tv is the one from "The Lost Room." Folded across every section: My DVDs are stuck in the player, and I didn't even know you could load multiples, into the drive, or that there was a built-in storage compartment. Soemthing in the single section about me and mech_angel needing to leave, because if the TV's broken, then something has gone horribly wrong. We back slowly out of the room. I wake up
All the rooms, houses, streets, whatever, were part of the same mental edifice. It was like set-dressing on a stage.
Squarepusher - [District Line II]--- I'm still tired, so I think I'm going to go back to sleep, for about 30 minutes.
Here's some interesting thoughts, from Eddie Campbell, about the new murders in London, drawing, and his cute a button daughter: "I used to think Alan [Moore] was making too much of the recurrence of names and odd details in the Whitechapel Murder cases, but here it is all over, with a Police Superintendent Gull, and one of the victims named Nicholls."
Morning.
kitsuchan, with bakeneko. I jump offstage, and into the crowd, when it's over, to co-ordinate meetings and people.A walk down a street, through an enourmous comic store to which I've never been, with my mother and
mech_angel, finding things they want, wiching I could buy them for them. My mother calls me on the phone, and I'm her office, where I work, too, and I'm a novelty. Everyone wants to talk to me, give me information, or treat me like a sideshow. Something about words or phrases written on pieces of paper that weren't mine, a newspaper I didn't buy, but belonged to me.Wandering up and down my great aunt's street, my grandmother's streets, I'm ansilarily connected to some organisation, which is trying to protect someone, or something, and it's like the Secret Service, only moreso, and we're testing our ability to spot a gun, from a mile. I tell them how far a mile is, and send them off, while holdnig a crossbow, in the windowpointed down the way, through the trees. Flashes of all the other sections of dream. I go after them, because something terrible has happened, but I don't have my boots. I end up running back through some park on the east side of the neighbourhood. Through a golf course or maybe that's someone else's dream.
I get back to the party, and Eddy Nahmias is there, along with various other professors. It feels like Christmas, with family, is the setting.
techiecl and I are playing the "let's name Continental Philosophers" game, to see who can be more obscure. This goes on, for a while, with me trying to eat two antacid tablets, at once, and they're foaming strangely.The television is broken, and
mech_angel and I have come to see raoin and Patrick, to hang out, watch TV, and read comics. The Tv is the one from "The Lost Room." Folded across every section: My DVDs are stuck in the player, and I didn't even know you could load multiples, into the drive, or that there was a built-in storage compartment. Soemthing in the single section about me and mech_angel needing to leave, because if the TV's broken, then something has gone horribly wrong. We back slowly out of the room. I wake upAll the rooms, houses, streets, whatever, were part of the same mental edifice. It was like set-dressing on a stage.
Squarepusher - [District Line II]--- I'm still tired, so I think I'm going to go back to sleep, for about 30 minutes.
Here's some interesting thoughts, from Eddie Campbell, about the new murders in London, drawing, and his cute a button daughter: "I used to think Alan [Moore] was making too much of the recurrence of names and odd details in the Whitechapel Murder cases, but here it is all over, with a Police Superintendent Gull, and one of the victims named Nicholls."
Morning.
Uhm.... Wow. Art and Science links.
Dec. 14th, 2006 09:54 pmFrom mendori: Human Smurfs.
DeathBoy - [Blankets and Pillows (mix 01)]--- Fromwacko1138: Top Quarks found, alone.
Ego Likeness - [Severine]--- It has been a long and tedious day of grading and writing e-mails and Christmas is stressful clichés.
So, instead of any of that, keep in mind that I still owe some of you some things, and I have a story I'm going to write, later, tonight. Not very long, just set up in my head, and needs out.
Later, though.
{10.08pm: Warren Zevon - [Suzie Lightning]---- Here's what I gave you, ( On the 12th DAy Of EckxMass )
Autechre - [Windwind]---Though i really don't think we need Four of those. Two of those is cool, and I didn't know those could write. And a What in a Where, now? Weird.}
mendori: Human Smurfs.DeathBoy - [Blankets and Pillows (mix 01)]--- From
wacko1138: Top Quarks found, alone.Ego Likeness - [Severine]--- It has been a long and tedious day of grading and writing e-mails and Christmas is stressful clichés.
So, instead of any of that, keep in mind that I still owe some of you some things, and I have a story I'm going to write, later, tonight. Not very long, just set up in my head, and needs out.
Later, though.
{10.08pm: Warren Zevon - [Suzie Lightning]---- Here's what I gave you, ( On the 12th DAy Of EckxMass )
Autechre - [Windwind]---Though i really don't think we need Four of those. Two of those is cool, and I didn't know those could write. And a What in a Where, now? Weird.}
Story: The Band.
Dec. 14th, 2006 11:09 pmStar walked into the club, late; they had said 7, precisely, and one of his bandmates couldn't keep it to himself, this time. Josh, the guitarist, exploded.
"Where the heck have you been?! We need to get this thing started, man, and it's not like we have unlimited time, here!"
Star took a long drag on his cigarette, and exhaled directly into Josh's face. "Funny," he smirked, "I thought that was exactly what we had. And fuck you: I'm only five minutes late, asshole. They're not even ready yet." He hooked his thumb at Jenna and Honda, the lead singers. " And who knows when the rest of them are going to get on the fucking ball."
"Whatever, man," sighed Josh. "And you're six minutes late, jerk." He walked over to the stage, and took three long gulps from his water bottle, as Star began his set up and level check.
Star looked at Josh and chuckled. "You better watch that shit, man; it'll kill ya." When he got no response, he asked "Where the fuck is Dove?" and without a word of reply there came from the darkened stage-back a crashing drum solo like glass and bricks on fire, alive and breaking. "Ah," he said, bowing to her, slightly. She said noting in reply, only a half-smile and a tip of the drum sticks. The bassist began tuning his bass, kicking the amps and the monitors, whenever they shorted, or squealed. The guitarist and the drummer only looked at him, the former with a scowl, the latter with that same smile.
To Star's relief, Jenna and Honda stopped fucking with the mic, and Honda cleared his throat, while she just stared and waited. They all knew what time it was, and they needed to get this show on the road. No one was going to want to listen to them, if they were still pulling this amateur hour bullshit, and Star had been saying it for weeks. No one listened, not until it was to fucking late, right?
"You never listen. I said we needed to be doing this shit, weeks ago. Always the last fucking minute, with you, isn't it?" No one said anything, they only stared, and waited for him to start. "Fine. Fuck it, let's go." And he started the bassline.
It was slow thrumming, at first, slow but steady, sucking the listener into the easy rythm of the thing, and then a growl: Too late, the realisation of a predatory nature. Menacing, inexorable crawl, now, across the room, with a jagged not right in the middle, like a half-hiccup, almost out of synch, but right where it was supposed to be. Deep in the dark.
And Josh's guitar came screaming over top of it, wild and free, and clear blue skies in musical form, wheedling, pleading, promising nothing but what it was.
And Dove broke into the drums, crashing through the bass and the screaming guitar like God and Satan crashing through the walls of reality into a playground fully of terrified children: Heavy, insistent, undeniable, unbelievable, unstoppable. Holy. She brought it down to a manageable pace, and steadied in with Star and Josh, weaving a house, and home for what came next; a place for the words to dwell.
And Jenna and Honda sang, together. Their voices flowing under and over each other, in and out of the drums' staccato, the thump-thump of the bassline heart, and the high screeching scream of the guitar, they were all together. The singers sang, and everything melded togther, fit into the jagged, bleeding, living whole. Josh's guitar flew higher, Star's bass pounded, demanded, hummed in the deepest part of everyone's mind, and Dove's drums gave the skittering, tangled clashing movement of a metal scarecrow falling down stairs. With Jenna and Honda's voices it was beautiful, complete.
As they came to the end of "Brush Fire," Josh skipped a note, and Star screamed "Fucking Cocksmoking DAMN IT!" And Josh said "Sorry, everybody, sorry. My bad." And Jenna and Honda said, in turn, "Star, calm down;" "Josh, it's okay." And together "We'll just take it from the top, in a bit. Take five"
Dove stood up and streched, then walked over to whisper something to Josh, patting him on the shoulder. She came over to Star and held out her hand, staring him directly in the eye, smirking at him. He smirked back, and tossed the pack of cigarettes at her, turning to watch her go out back to smoke.
Everyone waited and collected themselves, getting ready to go through it, again. Tonight was it. If they didn't get it right, here, they were fucked, and they all knew it. Star stared at the ceiling, waiting for what he knew was coming, and closed his eyes when he heard Jenna and Honda say
"Star? Can you check the light levels?"
©Damien Williams. All Rights Reserved
Music used for inspiration: Autechre - [Windwind]; Architect - [Pastgate]; Tom Waits - [Temptation]; Sin - [The Day I Killed Myself]; Apeboy - [Enya vs Prodigy (Lenlow Edit)]; The Darkest of the Hillside Thickets - [Chunk]; Android Lust - [Unbeliever]; A Perfect Circle - [Rose]; Tool - [Intension]
"Where the heck have you been?! We need to get this thing started, man, and it's not like we have unlimited time, here!"
Star took a long drag on his cigarette, and exhaled directly into Josh's face. "Funny," he smirked, "I thought that was exactly what we had. And fuck you: I'm only five minutes late, asshole. They're not even ready yet." He hooked his thumb at Jenna and Honda, the lead singers. " And who knows when the rest of them are going to get on the fucking ball."
"Whatever, man," sighed Josh. "And you're six minutes late, jerk." He walked over to the stage, and took three long gulps from his water bottle, as Star began his set up and level check.
Star looked at Josh and chuckled. "You better watch that shit, man; it'll kill ya." When he got no response, he asked "Where the fuck is Dove?" and without a word of reply there came from the darkened stage-back a crashing drum solo like glass and bricks on fire, alive and breaking. "Ah," he said, bowing to her, slightly. She said noting in reply, only a half-smile and a tip of the drum sticks. The bassist began tuning his bass, kicking the amps and the monitors, whenever they shorted, or squealed. The guitarist and the drummer only looked at him, the former with a scowl, the latter with that same smile.
To Star's relief, Jenna and Honda stopped fucking with the mic, and Honda cleared his throat, while she just stared and waited. They all knew what time it was, and they needed to get this show on the road. No one was going to want to listen to them, if they were still pulling this amateur hour bullshit, and Star had been saying it for weeks. No one listened, not until it was to fucking late, right?
"You never listen. I said we needed to be doing this shit, weeks ago. Always the last fucking minute, with you, isn't it?" No one said anything, they only stared, and waited for him to start. "Fine. Fuck it, let's go." And he started the bassline.
It was slow thrumming, at first, slow but steady, sucking the listener into the easy rythm of the thing, and then a growl: Too late, the realisation of a predatory nature. Menacing, inexorable crawl, now, across the room, with a jagged not right in the middle, like a half-hiccup, almost out of synch, but right where it was supposed to be. Deep in the dark.
And Josh's guitar came screaming over top of it, wild and free, and clear blue skies in musical form, wheedling, pleading, promising nothing but what it was.
And Dove broke into the drums, crashing through the bass and the screaming guitar like God and Satan crashing through the walls of reality into a playground fully of terrified children: Heavy, insistent, undeniable, unbelievable, unstoppable. Holy. She brought it down to a manageable pace, and steadied in with Star and Josh, weaving a house, and home for what came next; a place for the words to dwell.
And Jenna and Honda sang, together. Their voices flowing under and over each other, in and out of the drums' staccato, the thump-thump of the bassline heart, and the high screeching scream of the guitar, they were all together. The singers sang, and everything melded togther, fit into the jagged, bleeding, living whole. Josh's guitar flew higher, Star's bass pounded, demanded, hummed in the deepest part of everyone's mind, and Dove's drums gave the skittering, tangled clashing movement of a metal scarecrow falling down stairs. With Jenna and Honda's voices it was beautiful, complete.
As they came to the end of "Brush Fire," Josh skipped a note, and Star screamed "Fucking Cocksmoking DAMN IT!" And Josh said "Sorry, everybody, sorry. My bad." And Jenna and Honda said, in turn, "Star, calm down;" "Josh, it's okay." And together "We'll just take it from the top, in a bit. Take five"
Dove stood up and streched, then walked over to whisper something to Josh, patting him on the shoulder. She came over to Star and held out her hand, staring him directly in the eye, smirking at him. He smirked back, and tossed the pack of cigarettes at her, turning to watch her go out back to smoke.
Everyone waited and collected themselves, getting ready to go through it, again. Tonight was it. If they didn't get it right, here, they were fucked, and they all knew it. Star stared at the ceiling, waiting for what he knew was coming, and closed his eyes when he heard Jenna and Honda say
"Star? Can you check the light levels?"
©Damien Williams. All Rights Reserved
Music used for inspiration: Autechre - [Windwind]; Architect - [Pastgate]; Tom Waits - [Temptation]; Sin - [The Day I Killed Myself]; Apeboy - [Enya vs Prodigy (Lenlow Edit)]; The Darkest of the Hillside Thickets - [Chunk]; Android Lust - [Unbeliever]; A Perfect Circle - [Rose]; Tool - [Intension]
