Peace, Love, and Star Trek

Parks and Recreation, "Campaign Ad"

2012-01-22T15:31:00.000-08:00

Season 4, Episode 12
January 19th, 2012

Rating: 8.0/10
Watch this episode on Hulu Plus.

Sexual tension between characters in Parks and Recreation is like sexual tension between your friends- You can't wait until they shut up and screw. Shutting up being the important part. After putzing along for the back half of season three, harping on the supposed impossibility of Ben and Leslie's relationship, then resolving it only to reopen the can of worms immediately in season four, the writers finally let the two get together and now the show can, at long last, move on.
I've never been partial to so-called "heart" in comedies, as I tend to like my humor a little dark, but once P&R stops playing the will-they-or-won't-they game (of course they will), the show is terrific at mining laughs from the altered social roles. Specifically I'm thinking of Leslie's "Barack Obama said 'Yes we can!' and now he's the president of the United States. Ben Wyatt said 'No we can't' and now he's working for his girlfriend.'
This willingness on the writers' part to allow the status quo to evolve is one of the factors that constantly impresses me about the series. As much as I complain about the doting on relationship strife, it must be admitted that the writers don't milk those relationships for a frustratingly long time, as The Office did with Jim and Pam for three seasons, or as they're desperately trying to recapture with the thoroughly uninteresting Andy and Erin. Andy and April's marriage, Ben moving in with them, and Tom's departure to Entertainment 720 have all been pleasant surprises. This sort of organic evolution makes Parks and Rec feel more real than other sitcoms, which are content to convince us that an ensemble cast will remain in the exact same situation for 7+ years.
That appreciation in mind, I truly hope that the plot in which Chris attempts to replace Ben with Ron is explored. Nick Offerman and Rob Lowe have a great on-screen chemistry which has, to this point, been largely unexplored. I loved the continuity in Ron's attempt to block Chris out of his office with the automatic door remote that Leslie gave him for Christmas. His muffled frustration when Chris got in just in time was palpable.
I've gone on a while now without mentioning Paul Rudd. There's always a danger bringing a big actor onto a quaint show like this, in that the guest star can be too much of a distraction. Rudd, however, has such an unassuming (and in this case, moronic) everyman quality to him that I found him to be an outstanding addition to this episode. His entire performance was so monochromatically self-entitled; I noticed upon rewatching that as he takes the podium in the cold open he says "Thanks, guy!" with boyish glee to the campaign speaker who introduced him. Of course Bobby Newport doesn't know the names of his own campaign (Sorry, campleasure) staff. I really look forward to watching this character in future episodes.
Speaking of which, I found the campleasure moment to be out of character for Leslie. She cringes as if she recognizes just how terrible a joke Newport just made, but it's just the sort of terrible pun I could see Leslie herself making while onlookers grimaced. By the end of the episode, Bobby Newport seems like such a bonehead that he's probably capable of much worse quips.
Unfortunately that wasn't the only out of character moment of the night. Let me just take a moment to ask: What has happened to Tom Haverford? Ever since the episode where he had to come to terms with being back in the Parks department, he's been either absent or forgettable, and tonight he was peculiarly un-Tom. His entire theory about kissing up to Leslie and Ben (because he bets on every horse) lacked motivation. In the past Tom has always been extremely candid, even rude to his superiors. Why was he holding back now? I would expect the Tom of the past to be the first person to shoot down Leslie's abysmal campaign ad, for example.
The reason his kiss-ass approach is so out of the blue is that for him nothing is actually at stake. No matter whose campaign video wins, he still has the same role at the office and in the campaign. If there had actually been some sort of significant power struggle occurring I could understand Tom taking care not to curry favor with the wrong party, but this plot felt extraneous, as if the writers had no idea what to do with Tom. This is a shame, because Aziz Ansari has been such a dependable player in the past.
By far my favorite scene of the episode- and probably my favorite scene in a while- was the Jerry/Ben/Tom scene where they practiced the voice acting for the slam ad. This sort of shameless silliness is what Parks and Rec thrives on, and where it really shines.
Overall a very solid episode. The campaign looks as if it will prove to be a great ongoing plotline. I wonder- Does P&R's aforementioned penchant for character evolution allow for the possibility of Leslie being elected city counselman? Maybe season 5 (hoepfully there will be a Season 5) will feature all of these characters in a new office? This would be a great way to introduce some new characters and really shake things up. It would also allow for an interesting new dynamic in which Leslie is Ron and Chris' superior. Let's see some balls, writers.

Stray thoughts:

- I loved the look on the campaign security guy's face when Bobby asked "I'm running unopposed, aren't I?"

-Andy worries about eating a Twix wrapper and then never seeing it come out the other end. As a fecal expert, I don't think he has anything to worry about. It could have been broken into segments or completely concealed. Someone should tell him.

-Jerry takes a lot of flak this week after having secured a pretty substantial crowd at last week's ice rink presentation. Cut the guy a break.

-Pretty disappointing Andy/April plot this week.

- I spent a good 10 minutes pausing hulu and copying down all of the things Leslie Knope approves of. I should have known that the folks at Buzzfeed would save me the trouble. Here are some of the highlights:

Better Better Business Bureau
Fewer Libraries
Shutting Down the Child Left Behind Act
One police officer for every 5 citizens
One park ranger for every 10,000 raccoons
One school for every student
Regulate height of trampolines
Memorial for those lost in the trampoline "incident"

"Fewer Libraries" is a pretty terrific slam aimed at Tammy 2, the evil librarian.

Best Albums of 2011 (Part 2 of 2)

2012-01-20T07:41:00.001-08:00

Sorry to keep you two readers on the edge of your seat for a couple days. Here's my top four albums of 2011.

#4- Radiohead, "The King of Limbs" (Ticker Tape Ltd)

If Radiohead has proved one thing over the second half of their twenty year career, it's that they don't give a fuck what their audience thinks. After garnering a large following in the '90s thanks to the post-grunge hits "Creep", "High and Dry", "Just", and "Karma Police" (among others), Thom Yorke and his posse took a drastic 180 with 2000's extremely experimental "Kid A" and never looked back.
This caused quite a remarkable response; "Kid A" and it's two successors were critically shrugged off and openly reviled by longtime fans, but sales were through the roof. Indeed, Radiohead is often referenced as one of the most capable and groundbreaking bands in current music, despite the fact that you'd be hard pressed to find a glowing review of any their albums since "OK Computer" back in 1997. Why is this?
A few years ago I ran across this Onion article from 2001. To some Onion reader who hadn't gone through this gritty process of getting to know a Radiohead album, I'm sure this blurb was completely unentertaining. For the several hundred thousand people who bought "Kid" upon its release only to groan and put it aside, it was a frank documentation of their own first year with the album.
Radiohead albums are like the Stanley Kubrick films of their generation and media, in that they not only go unappreciated for a time after their release, but also inspire disgust. In the initial Rolling Stone review of the album, journalist David Fricke, though more appreciative of the release than many of his colleagues, still accredits it some monumental faults. "This is pop? Radiohead are a rock band", Fricke scowls. He concludes, "There are times...when the record seems absolutely airless, entombed in chrome." An unflattering assessment indeed. Yet eight years later, what album should find itself in the #1 spot on Rolling Stone's albums of the decade?
It baffles me, then, that audiences continue to shrug aside new Radiohead releases like this year's "The King of Limbs". Mocking the release for its brevity (8 tracks clocking in at just over 37 minutes) and its minimalism, you'd think this group's fanbase would have learned by now.
When I first heard the album, I will admit to feeling underwhelmed. In fact, the album made me feel nothing. At the time I was doing some diving in the beautiful Seychelles, and "Limbs"' empty beats and shameless repetition did not exactly jive with my easy-living tropical state of mind.
I was lucky enough, however, to be surrounded by Brits at the time. I haven't officially checked, but I'm fairly sure that Radiohead fandom is a prerequisite for British citizenship. Due to their persistence to get to know the album, I was able to come around to it, and now it's probably in my top 3 Radiohead releases.
The approach of the album is to reveal melodies and beats slowly through repetition. In this release, every song is a pyramid song (and I mean that in a structural context, not in allusion to the Amnesiac single), coyly revealing its juicy bits sparingly. As with any Radiohead album, your appreciation for it will likely not set in during a listen. Rather, you walk away from it, flustered after not uncovering its secrets on listen number five or six, and you'll find when you're away that the songs have gotten under your skin, and you need to go back.
Amidst the small amount of listeners who have embraced the album there is a divide, as well. Many people believe that one half of the album is superior to the other- The first half, full of some of the band's most experimental tracks, is certainly a fairly inaccessible access point. For me, however, it is far superior to the album's back half, which while brilliant seems to be trying to recreate the seductive ambience of "In Rainbows", a futile act.
Where "Limbs" really shines through is its altered subject matter. An early reviewer of the album noted that "the angst is gone", and that absence is what makes the album such a pleasant listen. For the first time in twenty years, the songs lack an undecurrent of depressive thought, and instead are more aesthetically dedicated. It's a refreshing change as a listener, as the album is proof that Radiohead is still capable of fruitful, dramatic evolution.
This has been an atypical review, in that I have not mentioned a single song off of the album specifically. That is really the way a Radiohead album should be observed. More so than most other bands, Radiohead's albums are flowing, coherent, and interdependent pieces. Having likely already heard "Lotus Flower" and seen Thom Yorke dancing like he's having a seizure, you've drawn your own conclusions. However, with this band, a song is anything but representative of the work from which it derives.

Essential Tracks: Wait, didn't you hear what I just said?

#3- Bon Iver, "Bon Iver"...Bon Iver? (Jagjaguwar)

DC or Marvel should make a graphic novel series in which Justin Vernon is the hipster superhero. The man started out with a mysterious origin story: Armed only with a guitar and some books, Vernon retreated to a remote cabin in the deep freeze of Wisconsin for months on end. When he emerged, he boasted a thick beard, an earthy lifestyle, and some beautiful recordings. These recordings would soon become his celebrated album, "For Emma, Forever Ago".
His newfound superpower after his return was the ability to spread the hipsterdom, despite not being a particularly pretentious or clean-living individual himself. The man was more of a carrier of the hipster disease, able to spread it effortlessly without necessarily succumbing to it himself. Vernon has stated many times that his sojourn in the Wisconsin winter was not as romanticized as the Bon Iver myth would have you believe. He had electricity, he used the phone, he went on the internet from time to time. But the hipster population of the world sees what they want to, and continue to interpret his lifestyle as some sort of statement, instead of assuming that a man can go to a wintry cabin simply because it's a pleasant place to be.
The word "masterpiece" was bandied around a lot (too much) when "Emma" came out. Like most cinematic superheroes, however, Vernon's second outing blew his first out of the water. His eponymous release (double-eponymous?) is his Dark Knight, his Spider Man 2, to "Emma"'s Batman Begins/Spider Man 1. In his first album, Vernon established an identity with a very basic, if entrancing sound. In the years that followed, hipsters the world round tried desperately to emulate his simple yet delightful formula, to mixed effects.
As if to stay ahead of the crowd, Vernon has expanded his repertoire greatly in his second effort, incorporating a supporting band which not only backs him up, but which he relies on heavily in many songs.
There are moments that mirror the gentle simplicity of his first album. "Holocene", for one, sounds as if it could have been ripped straight off of "Emma". Even so, "Holocene" would have been one of the best, if not the best track off of that album had it been present. In the rare moments where Vernon does step backwards, his stylistically similar material is structurally and melodically superior to his past work.
The best track on the album, "Towers", dips into a childhood nostalgia for summer days and youthful daydreams. Really, the entire album is about daydreams and fantasy, each track named after a place Vernon holds dear to him, or of a place he dreams of someday going. The opener "Perth" has a gentle melody which holds within it a hopefulness and a celebration. The fictitious location is unattainable, and thus Vernon's perfect image of it can never be sullied. No wonder the album's cover, depicting a majestic landscape, is so calming and inviting.
This optimistic tone is a promising progression away from the more reflective and regretful "Emma". It seems as if this great new artist is just now hitting his groove, and hopefully in 2012 we will see that this Hipster Knight Rises.

Essential Tracks: "Perth", "Holocene", "Towers"

#2- M83, "Hurry Up, We're Dreaming" (M83 Recording Inc.)

Unlike last year, there's no general consensus on the top album of the year. As the AV Club pointed out in their top albums list earlier in the month, their 15 or so journalists all picked separate top albums of the year. Last year, it was widely agreed upon that Kanye West's "My Beautiful Dark Twisted Fantasy" had swept in at the last minute to irrefutably steal the #1 spot. As such, most of the real battling went on in the #2-5 slots.
Although there's not a unanimous frontrunner this year, there are several albums that have the makings of a best album. Generally the albums that win on these lists are sprawling, diverse, bombastic efforts, and there was no shortage of those this year.
Take M83's "Hurry Up, We're Dreaming" an 80's-retro jubilee of synthesizers and space age vocals. The frenchman Anthony Gonzalez has dropped ambitious electronic efforts on us in the past, but never anything with such a gleeful , carefree energy. Compare his last album's ("Saturdays=Youth") single "We Own the Sky" to almost anything off of "Hurry Up" and the difference is apparent. While singles like this were sonically exciting and decidedly retro, they had a contemplative aspect to them that too often brought a somber tone to the work.
Now look at this album's lead single, "Midnight City" (the video below). If the Throne's "Niggas in Paris" was the most culturally relevant song of the year, "Midnight City" is the best song of the year. In true M83 fashion, the lyrics are soothing if somewhat hard to parse, and the instrumentals are gripping in their simplicity. In this four-note melody (you know what four notes I mean), Gonzalez has found the most infectious refrain this side of the top 40. Like so many simple riffs from history ("Superstition" comes to mind), this is bound to live on for years, being chopped and rearranged in a feeble attempt to duplicate this song's intoxicating ambience.
What's truly amazing about the song is that it does seem to conjure images of a city in nighttime. It's an unexplainable phenomenon, but everyone seems to agree that the song itself feels like rolling through a shining but silent metropolis. This sort of powerful imagery is not an easy feat, and this gem of a song must be cherished.
This isn't to say that "Midnight City" goes unrivaled. Songs like "Reunion", "OK Pal", and the berserkly named "Steve McQueen" (More on him soon) riff masterfully on the album's unique aesthetic. This, like "Fantasy", and like the #1 album, is organized into intentional lulls and crescendos, rewarding climaxes and movements. All of its 70 minutes feels organic, a rare example of the well executed double album.

Essential Tracks: "Midnight City", "OK Pal", "Steve McQueen"

#1- Fucked Up, "David Comes to Life"

It's not every day that you run across a pretentious punk band. By which I mean, I have never run across a pretentious punk band until now. It sounds like an unpleasant combination, doesn't it?
Well, it's not unpleasant. In fact, Fucked Up's condescending attitude about punk is what allows them to be so extremely good. You probably don't like punk music, as most people, young or old, seem to have a general problem with all punk. I'm sort of the same way; after overcoming a Linkin Park phase when I was 15, I've stayed away from bands with a frontman possessing anything fiercer than a gutteral growl.
What Fucked Up has suggested in the interviews that labeled them pretentious essentially mirrors the distaste that the general populace has for the genre. They've stated that the majority of punk is an overzealous, underdesigned mess, an intriguing point. After these claims were made, critics naturally asked, "Pray tell, Fucked Up, how does one make subtler punk music?"
"David Comes To Life" is Fucked Up's answer to that query. It is a punk album with screamy vocals and blaring instrumentals, but it's also so much more. The album is truly a blend of different eras and genres of rock. The opener, "Let Her Rest", for example, is a well-paced instrumental that suggests that anything but a punk album will follow.
Fucked Up is masterful at eschewing the pitfalls which normally plague the genre- There's no gratuitous screaming, or intentionally cacophonous instrumentals. Every word conveys a part of the story, and the guitarist and bassist have no greed for the limelight. Sonically, the instruments are often filtered in just as strongly as the vocals, but they're always a background piece, carrying the melody selflessly.
The album is the most complete fruition of a concept album I have ever seen. The tracks chronicle the unfolding narrative of two politically motivated lovers in 19th Century Britain. As per the tradition of rock operas, the narrative is extremely complex. While at first daunting, this makes "David" a rewarding repeat listen, as you'll find yourself perceiving different characters and plot threads the more time you give it. Admittedly, I don't even have my mind wrapped around the whole ordeal yet. I eagerly await the (hopefully) inevitable day when this album is turned into a musical, as it sounds like the soundtrack to a fantastic post-modern piece.
If you were to give someone an instrumental copy of "David", they certainly would not think it was a punk album. They would probably assume it was pretty radio-friendly, in fact. The punk vocals don't detract from these instrumentals so much as they cause the listener to view them in a new light.
Therein lies the real strength of the album- Each song, despite being one chapter in a much larger saga, can aesthetically stand alone, and they're some of the best tracks of the year. The album is truly an oddity, and will likely reach a larger audience as time goes on, being that it's just so goddam irresistible.

Essential Tracks: "Queen of Hearts", "The Other Shoe", "Turn the Season", "Serves Me Right"

Best Albums of 2011 (Part 1 of 2)

2012-01-18T13:38:00.000-08:00

I've decided to start writing reviews here again. This is not so much because I think that anyone will really read them, but rather because it will help me to hone my abilities as a reviewer. The content I will be reviewing should generally fall into two categories: Either media which I have come across that I feel the need to write about, or media which I have been eagerly awaiting.
To jump start this new page in the BWF saga, I'll be writing some "Best of 2011" lists, as per the tradition of every website in existence. I personally find these lists extremely helpful, and read probably ten to fifteen of them every year. It's convenient to be able to cut past the usual drag of blindly consuming new releases, and instead work off of these recommendation compilations/
Given that anyone who reads this blog is probably a very good friend of mine, you may not enjoy these 2011 lists, as there will be few surprises. I do, after all, have a habit of singing the praises of anything I find exhilarating, usually without being prompted. I sometimes think that I may be the definition of word-of-mouth advertising (done often annoyingly and to the detriment of the media, but still).
In any case, my first list is my top albums of 2011. Instead of going with a round number, I've decided to list the eight albums which for me defined 2011. Here are numbers 5-8, with the top four to come soon.

8. Frank Ocean, "Nostalgia/Ultra" (Self-released)

2011 saw a major evolution in the definition of the word "mixtape". In previous years, a mixtape was a shorter, more out-of-the-box version of an album in which established hip hop artists would usually sample other artists' beats. For the most part, the mixtape was a letdown, as it failed to compare to the big production feel of the mainstream album.
If ever there was a time to be a nobody, it was 2011. Suddenly mixtapes such as Frank Ocean's "Nostalgia/Ultra" and The Weeknd's trilogy of releases proved that the internet was a successful vehicle by which to get your music known, and not by a single song on you Myspace, but an entire release.
This isn't to say that Ocean was a nobody before the release of "Nostalgia". On the contrary, he had saturated the net several years ago with dozens of slow love-croons (for a time under the moniker "Lonnie Breaux") which made something of a splash. More recently he aligned himself with Los Angeles rap collective Odd Future Wolf Gang Kill Them All, who weren't making a splash so much as poisoning the pond for some crude but deserved attention.
Having been given a record deal and then having had it taken back away from him, Frank Ocean decided to proceed without corporate investment and release "Nostalgia" as a free download. And boy are we lucky he decided not to keep it from us.
"Nostalgia/Ultra" has a fitting name in that it hijacks many melodies and aesthetics from previous generations of music. "American Wedding" shamelessly riffs off of the Eagles' "Hotel California", while the lead single "Novacane" bumps and sparkles in a diabolically 80s-tastic manner as Ocean tells a story of becoming desensitized to the world around him. The first verse laments "I can't feel nothing/Superhuman, even when I'm fucking/ Viagra popping, every single record/ Auto-tuning, zero emotion, muted emotion/Pitch corrected, computed emotion", as he draws attention not only to the numbness he now feels, but also to the dissociative qualities of masculinity and the highly technological music industry.
The irony of this is that his tale of desensitized life is painted vividly. As the catalyst is revealed to be a young amateur porn star and aspiring dentist, the listener is treated to a truly numbing picture of pleasure. Ocean's ultimate implication equating arousal and numbness not only convinces, but more importantly intrigues.

Essential Tracks: Novacane, Swim Good

7. Jay-Z and Kanye West, "Watch the Throne" (Roc-a-fella Records)

Prior to the release of this collaboration, the hip hop world seemed to be in fairly unanimous agreement that it could not live up to its own hype. Both pairs of this duo (self-proclaimed as "The Throne") have reigned as the king of the industry at different points. Combine that raw power with the infamous faux-father/son personalities of the two and you've got a recipe for a completely unattainable goal.
So yes, the duo failed to be hip hop Jesus reincarnate. But that inevitability considered, they did a pretty damn good job of trying. Structurally, the album is an oddity. Its best moments are those that have a vicious momentum, but inevitably this momentum is blue balled by some soft, lackluster efforts. The album opener, "No Church In the Wild", has a mesmerizingly simple beat, and Jay and 'Ye play to this minimalism, foregoing complex rhymes for a more pleasing, laid-back approach. None other than Frank Ocean provides the crooning, auto-tunelicious hook.
However, "No Church" is followed immediately by the worst song on the album, "Liftoff", where Frank Ocean is swapped out for Beyonce, and the kosher hip hop momentum is wasted. It must be awkward being in a marriage with another hip hop artist. I have to assume that The Throne had enough sense to realize that "Liftoff" was some soft shit. Is it too awkward to have a little pillow talk in which he told Beyonce she just couldn't be on the album? Apparently out boy Hov can be pretty whipped.
While pitfalls like this are present throughout the album, it still has a a handful of unforgettable tracks. "Otis" is just plain fun, "HAM" is a rare perfect use of producer Lex Luger (although the track is baffling relegated to an iTunes bonus), and "Niggas in Paris" is undoubtedly the song of the year. I don't care how much rolling in the deep Adele did, she has nothing on the cultural statement that this one song made. It is, quite simply, ridiculous. Ridiculous in the context of hip hop, which thrives on bad puns and the intentional creation of controversy. Referencing his law suit with the NBA ("Ball so hard motherfuckers wanna fine me/First you niggas gotta find me/ What's fifty grand to a motherfucker like me, can you please remind me?"), Jay defines the term 'luxury rap' as the celebration of unstoppable wealth. On their own albums, Kanye and Jay make a point to be introspective, because hey, it's hard to be super famous sometimes, guys. On "Watch the Throne", however, any second thoughts are gone. "Niggas In Paris", and the whole album really, seems to act as an empathetic response to the Occupy Wall Street generation, as these two media goliaths essentially proclaim "We are the 1 percent!".
This isn't a bad thing though, is it? It's how hip hop began, in self celebration. For the rest of us, it's escapism. And no matter what you think of them as people, this album stands as a testament that they deserve to boast.

Essential Tracks: No Church In the Wild, Niggas In Paris, Otis

6. The Weeknd- "House of Balloons" (Self-released)

What happens when you take Frank Ocean's beautiful, panty-dropping voice and apply it to terrifying subject matter? Well, you get the Weeknd, R&B singer Abel Tesfaye.
In early 2011, this mixtape (the first in a trilogy released throughout the year) emerged on the internet and created quite a stir. The mysterious vocalist was talented, no doubt, but his songs seemed to depict truly unsettling scenes. It is very common in the realm of hip hop and R&B for a vocalist to narrate the events of a party. Indeed it's actually quite trite at this point. No one, however, has narrated parties quite like these. In the mixtape's opener, "High For This", Tesfaye persuades a woman into some unnamed, formidable sexual act. His lyrics are endlessly reassuring, to the point where his need to reassure becomes the most terrifying aspect of the story.
In the title track, "House of Balloons/Glass Table Girls", the listener is treated to a musical representation of the high and the crash of a hard drug-oriented party. The first half of the song begins "Been on another level since you came", the narrator lost in the bliss of the party and its company. The chorus celebrates "This is a happy house, and we're happy here, in our happy house", a claim reeking of a desperate denial. This is the beginning of the night, when the drugs are in full effect.
Halfway through the inspired track, however, things take a turn for the darker. Tesfaye begins to address his addiction, specifically the need of the partygoers to keep their high going. He brings out glass tables which he bought especially for the occasion, and spirals back into his haze.
All of this is interesting, sure. But daring content doesn't necessarily make for good music, so why is "House of Balloons" enjoying the #6 spot on my list? It's because it represents a perfect union of seductive vocals and boundary-pushing production. On most R&B albums, "Glass Table Girls" wouldn't exist, given R&B's championing of romance. Here, however, Tesfaye addresses the underbelly of the soulful singer. After all, a man so in touch with his emotions must inevitably face his darker qualities.

Essential Tracks: High For This, House of Balloons/Glass Table Girls, The Morning

5. TV on the Radio, "Nine Types of Light" (DGC Records)

First off, let me just say that it has irked me since this album came out that it is called "Nine Types of Light", yet it has ten tracks. So close...
That flaw aside, "Nine" is a terrific album, although it fails to live up to the algorithym set forth by TVotR's first three albums. When TV emerged on the scene at the turn of the millenium, they were an extremely experimental band, more of a Radiohead reinterpretation than anything else, their first collection of samples even humblingly named "OK Calculator".
Their second album, "Return to Cookie Mountain" began to change things up, however. Suddenly there were some overtly catchy tunes, like the sex-crazed "Wolf Like Me", and even the more experimental tracks were underscored by infectious, ominous beats. The entire album dripped with apocalyptic foreboding, proving that the band was capable of larger-arcing motifs than their initial releases had demonstrated.
"Nine", however, feels very much like "Dear Science, Part II", and is the first notable retread in the band's catalogue. It's resemblance to "Science" is not necessarily a detriment, as both albums boast foot-tappingly yet complex smile-inducing choruses crooned by frontman Tunde Adebimpe, for whom the world has always been a sad but romantic place. The real disappointment instead stems from the band's seeming complacency, especially after such a long hiatus over the last three years. Whereas their past albums were conflicted, "Nine" is content to just be a smooth, catchy listen, and more importantly it's meant to be a reassurance that the band is not gone forever.
As such a vehicle it more than serves its purpose, despite lacking the gumption the Brooklyn-based quintet tends to demonstrate. The band certainly embraces this new calm, and as such accomplishes a homogenous, fun tracklist. Having spent their first three albums composing music in what Kyp Malone described as a grey, concrete room, TVotR took to the beaches for this release, and their laid-back mindset is certainly contagious.
On "Second Song" , the album's opener, Adebimpe proclaims "Confidence and ignorance approve me/ Define my day today/ I've tried so hard to shut it down, lock it up/ Gently walk away", and 'proclaims' really is the word for it. He's not talking, he's not singing, he's looking inwards and explaining how he ticks. When the flittery beat eventually drops in, so does the band's saccharine optimism. It's as if the listener has caught Adebimpe in a rare moment of weakness, and now gets to witness him slipping into his soothing, jovial stage presence. By the end of the track the band is in full Dear Science-esque swing, with an almost maximalist use of funky guitar riffs coupled with the band's now signature blaring horn outros. It's by far the best opening track the band has had to date, and a high point of their whole catalogue.
While perhaps not their best release, TV On the Radio still possesses a sound unlike anything in the music industry. With an ensemble so diversely talented (R.I.P. Gerard Smith, the bassist who succumbed to lung cancer a week after the album's release), they still have a bright, bright future ahead of them. We're just happy to have them back, and from the sound of their music, they're pretty stoked as well.

Essential Tracks: Second Song, No Future Shock, Will Do, New Cannonball Blues

An interesting tidbit: The woman in this video is Joy Bryant, a graduate of my and much of our readership's high school.

Early Riser

2010-04-28T00:58:00.000-07:00

I was walking home late tonight when an early riser claimed my energies. A bird, unseen, conveying its presence through a repeated "caw-ah!, caw-HAH!", the sound presumably arcing its way from the nearest tree, around a neighboring house and depositing itself with me. Birdsong is the bookend of purpose; it has the power to commence motivation or to demolish it just as swiftly. Eager melodies in the morning are a call to action, providing your average human being with a feel of camaraderie and assimilation, a comforting lack of the unique. The whole ecosystem seems to rise together, encouraging zest under the pretense of natural prerogative. At night, we have more purpose the longer we remain awake; surely one must be necessary and important to need to sacrifice their precious sleep.
The moment when the birds awake, however, is terrifyingly timeless. It is not just a sound; it changes vision, smell, and feel all at once. Surely, we assume, not all birds can awake at the same time. Yet the frenzied argument of the first is layered enough to be perceived as the declaration of a people. This is a time that no being should experience. It betrays the psychological expectations of the biological clock, melding night and day, light and darkness. Whereas in the evenings this moment passes without thought, it is guarded before dawn by the "caw-HAH!"s that proclaim "What are you doing here? There is no reason to be here." All at once, one notices how bright the night inherently is, instead of how dark the day can become. The dying warmth of day becomes the present cold of its expectation, and ego is shattered. The night, the tool of purpose, the vehicle for executing necessity of any kind that simply cannot be contained in the waking hours, becomes silly and pretentious. This moment indicates, quite simply, the irrational disregard of a crucial human function. It holds not simply the power to truncate, but to utterly delegitimize.
I sleep now, perhaps due to the neglect of a mother, or the flimsiness of a supporting branch, whatever it is that causes such a drastically early riser. Maybe it is the first word, blind in infancy to the conventions of cyclical time. One thing is sure; it's beginning is my end.

-OSK

Trying to figure if neon yellow trainers are fashionable or make me look like a fleeing soccer player/clown combination.

An Initial Reaction to "Red Bull and Chocolate"

2010-02-08T12:35:00.000-08:00

Ok, but wait, why?

-OSK

Honestly just did this here because I couldn't figure out how to sign in for comments after so long.

Societal Decay

2009-12-11T12:47:00.000-08:00

I go to type "How to type Greek symbols" into my corner google search bar and by the time I get to "how to" these options arise:

"tie a tie", "to kiss", "i met your mother", "get pregnant", "lose weight fast", "use facebook", "use twitter", "use a condom", "use excel", "use a tampon", "use a compass", "use chopsticks".

Today's self-esteem boost for OSK.

-OSK

...I was wondering why all of these were listed twice with the straggler searches "how to use my penis", "hippie music", and "15-midgedts in G-strings gangbang big person" at the end. I guess that's recent searches...

Rope-A-Dope. Emphasis on the Dope.

2009-07-26T20:30:00.000-07:00

I lied. I didn't leave the room. I briefly wonder why the wizard is just walking around in this chamber. I mean, dude, you can come with me. Power in numbers and whatnot. And you're obviously passionate about the cause. Come to think of it, it's kind of a dick move to take this cause you feel so strongly about and pawn it off on some stranger. Don't get me wrong, I'm all about benevolence. And watches. But don't you think you're kinda taking advantage of my kindly spirit? Pokey, go ahead and add the "pass-off" to that cliche site you like.
I've left the room. I appear to have been in some sort of tower that disappears off the top of the screen. Now I'm in "the woods". Which is to say a clearing. No woods around me have such convenient perimeters and wide-open centers. I investigate the darker-shaded grass. It's just like all the other grass.
I was told to go East, so naturally I advance on the apparent exit to the South. I want to see the extent of the programming of this game, which as I have defensively said already I admire no matter how much I bash it.
HOLY SHIT enemies. I don't have a weapon as far as I know. This is probably the game's way of telling me "Don't go here yet."
I forgot to pause while I typed. I got stabbed to death. Obviously shouldn't go there yet. But I'm pissed off. I'm gonna go where I damn well please.
BlahblahblahDiscoBandits door opens yay. I just accidentally walked into the wiz again and heard him say "We must recover the vinyl pentagram!" I find it funny that anyone should ever say we must do such an absurd thing, so I walk into him several more times. Nope, not getting old. I briefly wonder whether I can possibly rope-a-dope him against the wall to elicit this dialogue repeatedly. I try.
Fuck he got away. I've got to get him into that little niche between the barrels. Motherfucker his movement is so erratic its pissing me off. I will get this. Fuck he was right under it then he walked away. This will be my Penultimate Fantasy (Adventure) Victory lap. Even so, I make him say it one more time. I laugh.
South Again! Superdodge the two natives with spears. Their eyes are red, which makes me wonder if they are the Satanic Disco Bandits. Which would be a bummer, seeing as I always assumed they would be my friends. I go East to find a bee, and then South. More crazy natives. Is this terrain relevant to the gameplay or just here to punish those of us who don't do what the wizard says? Natives kill me. Fuck this.

-OSK

I actually like Dane Cook...mostly.

Crap I Just Realized the Fortune Cookie is Relevant And In No Way Witty

2009-07-26T19:37:00.000-07:00

First room, first thoughts. I have so many keypad options, and nothing to do with them. I feel like Link without his sword. Except less gay. I talk to the wizard looking fellow. What do you know? He talks exactly like Flappers does when he imitates people. I begin to think that maybe I'm too close to this game to fairly judge it. So apparently an ancient evil, long asleep, has risen in the North. My money's on dragon. Or retarded golden chicken that I can throw a saddle on and win the game. Both sound equally make-fun-of-able. I begin to wonder if I'm being too harsh, then realize that I'm just bitter that I have no talents to speak of that produce concrete results for posterity, save for hand-held camcorder videos of me dancing around and singing onstage. Continuing the theme of gay.
And just because I want to feel like I'm writing a lot, let's side track for a moment on the topic of posterity. I once spoke to J_Verts about how I have a wishful feeling that all good times in the past are somehow still going on, constantly replaying themselves in some capacity somehow in this reality. For the most part I feel this way about the Triangle. I once had a vision that I would procure a protege (the Swankinator?) as if the Triangle had started some undying chain of good times. I now understand that this self-absorbed fantasy is just that, and that everything we leave behind is left behind. I entertain the thought that someday, for some reason, someone our age (protege-esque) will retrace our steps and make of us what they can. I imagine they would find our blogs, likely their main source of information, as well as possibly our school records and yearbooks, but what else? Would they find Penultimate Fantasy? And better yet, could Penutimate Fantasy (the creation by two thirds, the playing and live blogging by one third) prove to be one of those nuggets of good times that somehow constantly replays itself over and over? Press any key to find out, I suppose.
Disco Bandits. I ejaculate. It is messy. I am in my family room. I struggle to hide it, shifting a pillow over my not so ugly uglies. Distracted by my new plight, I temporarily forget about its cause, turn back to my laptop screen
And ejaculate
Perhaps it's time to enter the world of parodying the parody of the parody, as I see PF ejaculation as more a shoot-off (hehe) of Suspenders than the original. Speaking of meta.
Images flash through my mind of wholly uninteresting stick figures from the Kingdom of Loathing (kingdomofloathing.com) and of extremely unattractive yet dashing Star Trek uniforms. I imagine our protege-stalker will someday uncover those photographs and be frightened and confused, perhaps abandoning their investigation. The protege is male, by the way. Girls are icky. If you can't already tell, I'm attempting to blog a lot about this short ass-game by sidetracking as much as possible. I fear Flap and Poke are glowering at me for not respecting their material. And so I move past the third text box.
Shit, what key is back? I was so overwhelmed by a DB name-drop that I forgot what was said about them. Doubtless I am doomed to now never figure this game out.
Disco Bandit relic must mean Star Trek get-up. Im in.
I have already fallen into a game of trying to figure out from whom specific ideas in this game originated. In most cases I assume one programmer conceived the idea and the other readily approved, but I can't help but wonder where these seeds of concept sprung up. I know Disco Bandits must have been Flapjack, readily approved in the defense of Pokey. But "vinyl pentagram"? Aside from being insulted by the fact that anything remotely satanic would ever be associated with the Disco Bandits, I cannot place this one's conception. When I think absurdity, both programmers come to mind. Their styles, however, are different. Pokey's absurd contradictions tend to be humorous in and of themselves, a self-sustaining giggle, whereas Flapjack's absurd contradictions usually make extremely little sense upon first introduction, to be later revealed as a reference or a running gag. If there is no development of this idea, I am stumped. No doubt I'm also being thrown off by the fact that I've never heard either of them use the word "vinyl". I stifle my curiosity, as I should probably get through the game's initial text.
(Pause)Bunnies=Pokey. He talks that way. Whereas "there may yet be hope" is Flap. Boy am I going to look like a fool if it turns out one of you did all of the dialogue.
Free of that wonderful conversation, I prepare to investigate this initial chamber. I am left to wonder how it is I got here. This is in no way a logical place for any normal person to be, as it looks like a dungeon and even for a dungeon is sparse on the decor. And who is my character? A shady individual for sure, what with the indoor sunglasses and whatnot. The long coat makes me feel like I should be hiding in city allies, popping out to assault helpless passerby with my business of selling used wristwatches out of the inside of my jacket. Come to think of it, the supreme sketchiness of my appearance makes the fact that I'm in such a sketchy place less unbelievable. Maybe wizards need watches too.
I awkwardly push my body against the table and all the barrels in the room. Thanks for not giving those any purpose, guys. Now the wiz just saw me run-humping every item in sight. I'm gonna leave this room.

-OSK

You guys are so thinking "this is going to take FOREVER." Yeah, it is.

I Don't Know What I'm Talking About

2009-07-26T19:13:00.000-07:00

What may lie ahead me as I stare at the title screen of “Penultimate Fantasy”? Groundbreaking, enthralling gameplay? A plot that will have me on the edge of my seat?
I briefly consider the money I could make from exposing the homage copyright infringement to the boys at Square Enix, but I realize that I am imminently going to acquire food and I am really too lazy.
I am really trying hard to envision what I am about to experience. To “call it” if you will. My sparing memories of the few Final Fantasy games I have played (or seen played) consist of navigating through unbearably large, complex, maze-like areas which are doubtless the result of programmers with too much time and money and consequently getting terribly lost in said environments. I sure hope the mysterious programmers of PF don’t get off on the idea of silly-looking protagonists racing retarded-looking golden mutant chickens.
I take these expectations derived from the original and drop them down a level. Or ten. No offense QR9, if you printed out the code to this game, ground the paper into a powder, snorted it, puked it, fed the puke to the neighborhood dog and then collected the resulting feces 19 hours thereafter the result would likely be something more genius than anything I will ever attempt to program.
And about the QR9 thing- Can these LOTR junkies stop making obscure Middle Earth references like “Queen’s Rook Nine”? Believe me J_Vert (sometimes from herein referred to as “Flapjack” for my faithful blogging audience. Also, DrK= Pokey, in honor of the probably mentally handicapped horse bitch sidekick of the world’s most justifiably humble protagonist- Gumby), you don’t have the hair growth to be a hobbit.
Long story short, I’m ready to be wowed by your game and just wanted to take any opportunity to bash Final Fantasy unfairly based on the limited exposure to it I’ve had.
And the title screen leaves me to wonder two things-
1. How or will this game parallel FF?
1b. What do I care seeing as I don’t even know a damn thing about FF?
2. How the hell can I keep readers interested when I’m already rambling just looking at the title screen.
Some deeper analysis of the screen itself-
Really feeling making some bucks off turning these guys in. My main issue with the title screen is the “T” in “Fantasy”. It’s not a bad touch, guys, it just reminds me of insects and medieval crucifix representations, two things that I’ve always found gross for reasons I will probably never understand. The second one is especially perplexing.
I think some higher power has been pressuring me to face my aversion to insects as of late, as I keep feeling that random items resemble them. For example, the glasses at significant other’s (Fuck no nickname)(wait.Tiger.duh[also can we consider the fact that I never even gave her Tigress…]) house have a 3-dimensional glass design greatly resembling the Fantasy “T”. I will not drink out of them. I will not tell her why.
Um, so I guess I should start playing. I promise I’ll talk more about your game when I have more to work with than the opening screen.

-OSK

And now, finally I will admit that I know QR9 to be a Star Trek reference. Just wanted to piss you off.

The E Factor

2009-03-01T18:11:00.000-08:00

Haha.

-OSK

Haha.

I Make A Post Totally Unworthy of Being A Comeback Post in Which I Avoid Creativity and Instead Vie to Link A Ton of Internet Videos

2008-12-08T16:04:00.000-08:00

Robot Chicken did some hilarious Battlestar spoofs last night-
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=A4x-FMGbbGU
http://www.adultswim.com/video/?episodeID=8a2505951df2bc7b011e07b3479501bc

Watch the second one through the ad- there's more hilarity post-ad. And for those that may freak on me for the Cylon-reveals in the episode, note that the Cylons are a total joke and irrelevant to actual show canon. I'm not saying that any are or aren't true, but those were certainly not spoilers.

And you've probably already seen it, but here's the best video that's been on SNL since Lazy Sunday.

http://www.inquisitr.com/11006/snl-jizz-in-my-pants/

Yes, that is Justin Timberlake in a bit role. And just for the throwback, here's Lazy Sunday- never gets old.

http://www.hulu.com/watch/1397/saturday-night-live-snl-digital-short-lazy-sunday

Effort exerted for this post: 1.

-OSK

Originally that whole post was supposed to be this fortune cookie. Then I realized that, as has been the case for the last 3 months, I have nothing to write about.

Large Hadron Collider Time

2008-09-09T21:05:00.000-07:00

Everyone duck. Or get under your desk.

-OSK

Crap, I need a Guybrush Threepwood reference...there we go.

Ressurecting Guybrush: The Quest for Ron Gilbert

2008-09-03T21:44:00.001-07:00

Who is this dashing man, you may wonder? And what does he have to do with Guybrush Threepwood? Well, ladies and gentleman, this is Ron Gilbert, creator of Monkey Island, and in my opinion, the best shot we have at ever getting it back. The trouble is, Gilbert parted ways with LucasFilm a long time ago. While this is regrettable, I really can't blame him- I would've left George Lucas too after Star Wars Episode 1: The Phantom Relevant Plot. It's always amazed me how easy it is for entertainment goliaths to disappear, something Gilbert has managed to do flawlessly. According to his brief wikipedia page, Gilbert published MI2, and then one more game for LucasFilms, and then left. He is now apparently in a position at the Vancouver-based Hothead Games. The curious fact is that he appears to not have published a single game whilst at Hothead. The logical answer as to why would be that he holds an executive position that is less hands-on in game development. This would certainly make sense from a business perspective, as his lauded work on LucasFilm games probably got him some pretty cushy (at least in comparison) job offers. The thing that puzzles me is how someone could get their hands dirty making a game as awesome as Monkey Island and then not crave that feeling again. It's long been my dream to be able to design and program a game (Escape the World!!!), and I am angered by Gilbert's cavalier attitude towards his godly talent. So am I just bitching about all of this? No, I intend to contact HotHead games, if only for some answers. Yes, this does make me a huge loser, and it does mean I have no life. But with an absence of life, why not use my free time towards this (probably futile) mission? I'll keep you posted.
Speaking of Ron Gilbert, a friend and I recently missed one of the most beautifully conceptualized concerts ever: State Radio and Rage Against the Machine in Denver. Given, there was no way we could have actually gotten there, but my gut tells me that something like that is a sign from God (Ron Gilbert? See, there was a connection there, I wasn't just freestyling a segue) and that it's wasted utopia to forego it. So that's my bit of bitching for tonight.
So they were playing outside the DNC in Denver (obviously in line with the two bands' political themes) and we thought that would be it. But apparently Rage also played the RNC just yesterday, though not in the way we would expect. Apparently they wanted to play outside the RNC as well in a similar manner to when they played Wall Street, but the police caught wind of it and prohibited it. So the four band members put themselves into a crowd of people and worked their way towards a central location, where (partially jokingly, I'm sure) they put on an Acapella performance of two of their songs. I love it when groups can laugh at themselves.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=eZv3fsM_3z0&feature=related

On the one hand, the video is hilarious. On the other hand, it sounds terrible. I'm just mad Morello skipped out on the guitar solos. But he was on Voyager, so I forgive him.

-OSK

GILF

That's governor, by the way.

The "U" Key

2008-09-03T16:27:00.000-07:00

I'm not picking that up.

-OSK

The Fucking Man

2008-08-28T22:21:00.000-07:00

People may wonder, even ask me, why I have decided to dedicate (at least temporarily) my entire internet existence to Guybrush Threepwood. It probably comes off as some unhealthy obsession, and will probably be frowned upon for its childishness. I could say that it was a running gag, or I could cite the fact that my previous facebook profile pic was decidedly misleading as to my sexual orientation, but none of these would be the truth. The truth is that Guybrush Threepwood is my favorite person ever.
Hear me out now, I've thought about this a lot (at least the last 5 minutes). Every obsession of mine in life has been a passing craze, or at least a recurring craze that jumps in and out of the forefront of my life (Dispatch). Monkey Island, however, has always been a source of joy for me. While I may not always be playing it, I have never found a moment in which I have thought of Monkey Island and not been wishing I was playing it. And at the center of my appreciation for the game series is my appreciation for its hero.
Let's bring this back to isolation. Because as we know, isolation is wonderful. Monkey Island is my ship in the middle of the ocean (get there, get there...). I've played enough of the games to know I fucking love them, but not tasted enough to have a wild imagination as to what lies ahead. To cut to the chase, Monkey Island is my idea of the afterlife. Because as we've established, heaven is boring. But being stuck in the world of Monkey Island (Shout-out! Bring the site back!) would be endlessly interesting.
Yes, it's a childish fantasy, but the only one I've been able to hold onto. The truth is, I have a bigger mancrush on Mancomb Fourpbranch's namesake than anyone else. John Chrichton may be alive, but so is Guybrush (Escape From Monkey Island), and Tom Morello doesn't even come close.
But yeah, moral of the story- Guybrush Threepwood is an endlessly enjoyable fellow, and there better be a Monkey Island 5. This blog has been limping as of late for personal reasons (mostly me actually having a life, unlike during the blogging prime of this past fall/winter), and I've been looking to give it purpose. Well, my heart tells ,me that a brief Guybrush Threepwood theme is in order. It's likely that none of you care to hear any more about him, but I can't ignore this inspiration. Hopefully I can breathe some enthusiasm back into this page.
As a first feel, here's the opening to "The Secret of Monkey Island":
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=i3dB0qEcG20
It's frightening how emotional that music makes me.

-OSK

So I was in a college interview the other day and the interviewer asked me to describe my writing style and its flaws. Little did he know how obsessed I was with the isolation theory, and I proceeded to bury him in a comprehensive psychoanalysis of myself. He had to sit down for a second, he got served so bad.

Why?

2008-08-26T17:41:00.001-07:00

Hotel pools.

-OSK

Food For Thought: The term "make love": Sweet and personal, or disgustingly cutesie? That one's been bugging me for years.

OSK Don'ts

2008-08-16T14:14:00.000-07:00

If you are OSK, do not-

Attempt to make lemonade from a can, for you will not understand that the label "12 fluid ounces" on the can is representative not of the quantity of the final, watered-down product, but rather of quantity of the uber-condensed lemonade syrup in the can. You will likely dump nearly all of this syrup into a small cup, barely water it down, and ingest what was meant to be a pitcer of lemonade in about 3 gulps, feeling morbidly sick soon thereafter.

-OSK

Should be seeing me around here a little more often. Battalion Wars 2 is hard.

Movie Review: Mamma Mia

2008-08-02T11:13:00.000-07:00

Last Sunday, I was faced with an exasperating choice- I could either accompany my jailers on a shopping excursion, stay in my cell, or join a group going to see Mamma Mia, the Broadway musical now transformed into a theatrical movie release. I settled on Mamma Mia simply because of the company, and because shopping makes me want to shoot myself (one of my few pure masculine traits). Needless to say, I was expecting to not enjoy the experience in the least. Being someone who, for the most part is allergic to musical theater and also not particularly liking ABBA (No, I won’t go to the trouble of inserting symbols to make a backwards B. Deal.), I consider it a miracle that I enjoyed myself. Upon arriving at the theater, I was mortified to discover that I was paying $12 for my ticket. Surely this movie couldn’t be worth that. Had I known what I was getting myself into, I would have happily paid $30.
This movie is such a tremendous piece of shit. The acting is absolutely horrendous (Meryl Streep has lost any credibility she ever had. Actually, Amanda Seyfried, whom most of us haven't seen since Mean Girls, was suprisingly the only convincing actress in the movie), the singing is uninteresting, and the plot (this time the fault of the playwright and not the filmmakers) is laughably predictable and uninteresting.
What makes this movie such a phenomenal pleasure is the degree to which all of these flaws permeate the work. For example, there’s bad singing, and then there’s Pierce Brosnan’s singing. Sitting next to the “Sweet Ride” Enterprise shirt kid who played Brosnan’s part in a production of the musical, I was treated to a nitpick of all his singing flaws. No, nitpick is the wrong term. Brosnan attempted to sing so far out of his narrow range that he often sounded like he had a medically-induced speech impediment.
The movie’s other major shtick was the cut-and-paste nature of the songs and their music videos. Everytime anyone burst into song, it seemed to be the most awkward, inappropriate, unconvincing transitions ever conceived. The music videos which accompanied these were priceless, involving simpler choreography than we have in our high school musicals. The videos also constantly had the chorus emerging from the most ridiculous of locations, such as descending from rooftops or emerging from the ocean.
Keep in mind that this is all built around the flimsiest and most downright stupid plot that has hit the box office in a long time. I have never laughed so hard in my life. Ever. One of my companions called it “almost as good as ‘Snakes on a Plane’.” No exaggeration. Keep in mind that if you aren’t willing to experience something truly horrible and even second-hand embarrassing at times, you probably will not like this movie. Personally, it’s my new favorite. You think I’m kidding. I would rather watch this movie than Star Trek II, IV, VIII, Serenity, or anything else. Although I suppose it wouldn’t be the same without the troupe of chums I had who were all audibly mocking the shit out of the movie the entire time. After the movie concluded, a woman behind us came up and shook our hands, thanking us and saying “That was so bad, I wasn’t sure whether to watch the screen or you guys.”

I don’t usually rate in my reviews, but on a scale of 1 star to 5, Mamma Mia gets an “I want my penis in it.”

-OSK

I’m bored, I think I’m going to go straighten my hair.

"It's Time For Us All To Be Assholes"

2008-07-31T15:45:00.000-07:00

I’m trying to gain some blogging momentum again, but I don’t have anything to say, so here’s the stuff I wrote down during our Theater lecture class today:

Throw the mini you up and out

NY-Wi-NW-NH-We
This trip will take forever
That was a buzz-snipe
2+2=3
Who controls the past…
Look up Sally’s Rape- The fuck ever happened to McCauly Culkin?
Giant lobster in front of camera= Racial misrepresentation
How you represent yourself
Color-ambivalent casting (TM that term fast!!!)
Metacommentary- WTF? Teacher is way too smart!
If we could all just love, man (weed may actually be the answer)
Why hasn’t anyone brought up Hair?
I misses John Groff ass for that (was boob-side, actually)
Fucking dues ex machina called out- YES
Washington Heights doesn’t HEART your shirt
Best quote from this session’s reading:
“White people and black people do not have intimate relationships in society today” (paraphrase)
Scrawny white kid- “I’ma gangster, I’ma go shoot some hos”
Who shoots hos? The worst I’d do is send them back to school.

“Race, ethnicity, gender, equality, all of this shit is so different.”

I love these college professors.

-OSK

So BSG shirt poser kid was wearing a shirt today that said “Whedonist”. Lightweight probably hasn’t even seen Serenity.

Germans Are the Worst Parents Ever

2008-07-30T15:55:00.000-07:00

They are. Having just come from a Broadway production of “Spring Awakening”, a self-proclaimed “perversion” of an apparently classic play, I’ve decided Germans should stop producing children until they figure out how to do it right.
A quick overview of the plot for the unfamiliar: ((((({{SPOILER ALERT!!!!!!!!11111111ROFL1337!!!!!!11111
A quick note- A friend of mine here at Charles Manson’s version of Theater Camp came up to me and said “I’m not just 1-3-3-7, I’m 3-1-3-3-7”. I haven’t yet decided whether I think it’s adorable or sickening. I guess I should just find it refreshing that a girl is 1. Aware of such a thing as leet and 2. Able to be somewhat creative with it. It should be noted that this girl is currently in pursuit of a friend of mine whom I have hardcore Star Trek debates with. Needless to say, I’m doing all I can to expedite their procreation.
In any case, Spring Awakening. Here’s the deal- It’s 1891 Germany, and parents are too afraid to explain sex to their kids, so this one teenager looks it up, and, knowing full well the consequences, essentially date rapes his best friend who has no idea what sex is even after the fact. These kids are 15. The rapist’s best friend then fails school and his father (another horrible parent) exaggerates and tells his son his life isn’t worth it anymore. So the best friend kills himself. Then date raped girl finds out she’s pregnant, and is all like “Wow, I guess a guy putting his penis into you is what gets you pregnant.” Honestly, common sense. Her mother (another horrible parent) then forces her to go to a sketchy abortionist whose practice kills her. Bottom line- Germans should never be parents. I could site some historical precedents for the discontinuation of Germany as well, but I’m a bit afraid my joking racism may not translate so well on the interblags.
On the topic of things people shouldn’t do: Today at lunch I walked past a kid from the Dramatic Writing program wearing a reimagined series Battlestar Galactica shirt. Needless to say, I excited, as surely only the most devout of fans would make such a purchase. I approached his table, being fairly friendly with a lot of the DW kids he was keeping as company, and asked him “So who do you think the fifth is?” to which he responded “Oh, I’m not watching Season Four yet; I’m waiting for the DVD”. Poser. Don’t tease me like that. Poser.
Another weak segue- Scifi shirts. I began this post last night and just recently resumed it, having spotted 3-1-3-3-7’s romantic interest wearing a shirt with a picture of the Enterprise D, under which is written “sweet ride”. I think I’m starting to want him as much as she does.

Waveringly heterosexually,
-OSK

Pierce Brosnan has given me more joy than I have ever known. More on that soon

Dropped Plotlines (Journal Entry #4 of Pilot Power Master Steel Crush HeliCyrus RazorClaw Cerebros)

2008-05-26T12:37:00.001-07:00

The dizzying horizon before me brings an almost inappropriate sense of serenity with it. After all of the chaos and pain I, Pilot Power Master HeliCyrus RazorClaw Cerebros have been through since entering this green hell, I am not used to feeling safe. It is hard, however to not feel safe doing what it is I do best: cruising in my helicopter.
The trip back from my encounter with the quite insane Ms. Earheart was swift, or at least it seemed like no trouble at all after I, Pilot Power Master HeliCyrus RazorClaw Cerebros had walked the distance in agonizing hunger just recently. Now my hunger had been sated, as I had made a habit of indulging in the plentiful meat I had gathered.
Still, I, Pilot Power Master HeliCyrus RazorClaw Cerebros did not enjoy the ride back so much as I enjoyed getting back into my own copter, which I had come to believe I would never see again (an utterlycomprehensivelylame prospect). Having refueled the helicopter and patched up the tank’s tear using materials from Earhart’s plane, I set off to discover what lay at the end of this place.
I, Pilot Power Master HeliCyrus RazorClaw Cerebros found something interesting among the personal effects Earhart kept around her plane- A notebook, what appeared to be a scientific journal called “ The Metallic Property (Threshold Theory)”. No, it doesn’t really make sense that I’d be snooping around all the papers that chick kept in the back of her plane, and yes, the chances of me actually finding a document so completely relevant to the main story is a bogus plot move. But give OSK a break; he’s taking this one step at a time, and he would’ve introduced this in part three if he’d known where this was going. So yeah, it’s a lame move just to progress the plot. Deal with it. Maybe I, Pilot Power Master HeliCyrus RazorClaw Cerebros just have totallysweetnice file-finding skills, okay?
The file was written by a man named Cenron Henderson; I assume this is the scientist whom Earhart spoke of, a man she surely turned into a drumstick to add to her bonfire of meat. I read the overarching details of the file before I resumed my coptering. It basically says exactly what Earhart said it did: That somewhere around 5000 distance units in this environment, the metallic content of the green material became so superheated that it melted away, possibly (“possibly” was something my friend Cenron stressed mercilessly) opening passageways to whatever lay beyond, hopefully the world from whence I came.
Therein lies the excitement which floods my mind presently. My distance currently reads 4600, and with mere minutes until 5000, I, Pilot Power Master HeliCyrus RazorClaw Cerebros am filled with anticipation about whether this threshold exists or not. The temperature has certainly been rising drastically; I do not believe any creatures could survive on the surface this far in.
4700. If I squint, I feel that I can almost make out spots of red on the horizon. I, Pilot Power Master HeliCyrus RazorClaw Cerebros wonder if there are mirages in here. I do not know about science. After all, the RazorClaw Cerebros family is a family of warriors, bred for more effective courses of action than scientific study. As such, I do not know whether tricks of the mind are even possible in here.
My heart begins pounding. The red is growing more and more intense. There can be no doubt about it now: There is a threshold. There is a threshold and I, Pilot Power Master HeliCyrus RazorClaw Cerebros am going there. There are a mere four blocks between me and it.
Suddenly my complete happiness, my wonderful hope, is crushed. As I fly below that
first block, I, Pilot Power Master HeliCyrus RazorClaw Cerebros hear an engine kick into full power behind me. Something was waiting in hiding behind that block. I catch a glimpse of it in my rear view mirror- it is the Anti-England Transformer Rebel ship which I had pursued into the Bermuda Triangle. I, Pilot Power Master HeliCyrus RazorClaw Cerebros believed that I had destroyed it, or at least had lost it when I entered the horrible vortex which brought me here, but apparently we are in the same predicament. I consider for a moment that perhaps the mysterious pilot recognizes this, and may be merciful in this matter.
I, Pilot Power Master HeliCyrus RazorClaw Cerebros am wrong. There is a cliché high-pitched scifi energy weapon sound as the craft opens fire. As if these blocks weren’t enough for me to worry about, now I had hostile fire on my ass. However, being the skilled pilot of the RazorClaw Cerebros family (and of the wholly superior rank of Power Master Steel Crush) I am able to progress aptly with little trouble. I, Pilot Power Master HeliCyrus RazorClaw Cerebros begin to entertain the fantasy that my tricky maneuvers through the blocks will cause my enemy to crash. However, he seems to be a worthy adversary, if not as good a pilot as I.
As I, Pilot Power Master HeliCyrus RazorClaw Cerebros approach the threshold, I cannot believe my eyes. It seems to me, from my distance of 92, 91, 90 from the red, that the blocks within it are…moving. There is no doubt about it- those red death traps are rapidly bouncing up and down, taunting me, Pilot Power Master HeliCyrus RazorClaw Cerebros.
Crossing the threshold, I almost misjudge the position of the first, and must fly up at the lasts second in order to avoid a hot death. My guard goes down as I, Pilot Power Master HeliCyrus RazorClaw Cerebros frantically compensate for this mistake, and in this moment my copter is grazed by enemy fire, causing it to drop from the sky.
I panic. The controls are not responsive. Desperately, I throw the door of the copter open. I, Pilot Power Master HeliCyrus RazorClaw Cerebros am engulfed in an intense heat, so intense that I feel that I, Pilot Power Master HeliCyrus RazorClaw Cerebros am burning. Before I jump out, I take one last look at the ground below me. It is distant, but its red surface approaches with every passing moment. I jump. This is surely an act of suicide, but so is staying in the helicopter, and somehow I have convinced myself that I have more of a chance falling by myself than being buried in metal.
What I, Pilot Power Master HeliCyrus RazorClaw Cerebros do not count on is the idea that my enemy may want me alive. Seeing what I have done, the enemy craft swoops down below me, skillfully avoiding the moving blocks, and places itself between myself and my destination. My body slams onto the hull of the craft. The metal is agonizingly hot, as it has been superheated by its hellish surroundings. Every point of contact on my body is burned. Through the fog of tears in my eyes, I catch a final glimpse of my falling helicopter as the enemy craft fires at it, destroying it in a blinding flash of light.
I give into despair. I am burned beyond thought, I am alone, and now I do not even have my helicopter, my one hope of getting out of this place. Suddenly a hatch opens a few yards away from me on the ship. A metal claw reaches out and grabs my leg, yanking me inside.

My next few days are miserable. Imprisoned in a dark cell, I, Pilot Power Master HeliCyrus RazorClaw Cerebros begin to undergo the symptoms of a severe illness. My daily activities consist primarily of vomiting profusely, hallucinating wildly, and rubbing the lesions appearing all over my skin, somehow convinced that rubbing them will alleviate the pain, when all it really does is make them bleed.
On either the second or third day, I am visited by a man. They insist on being referred to as “men”, though they in no way resemble any man I, Pilot Power Master HeliCyrus RazorClaw Cerebros have ever seen. The first thing I notice about this “man” is that he shares my illness. Lesions plaster his face (Luckily for me the face has not been a popular spot for my lesions), and he grips his stomach regularly in obvious agony. He grabs me by the shirt and drags me out of my terrible cell.
We walk down a hallway as black as the cell I, Pilot Power Master HeliCyrus RazorClaw Cerebros have endured. The “man” says nothing. Finally we turn a corner, and brilliant white light assaults my (Pilot Power Master HeliCyrus RazorClaw Cerebros) eyes. As I, Pilot Power Master HeliCyrus RazorClaw Cerebros struggle to open them again, my pupils committed to retreat, the “man throws me down onto my hands and knees. Being the strong England Wrestler-Transformer I am, I, Pilot Power Master HeliCyrus RazorClaw Cerebros win the battle with my eyes.
The sight before me is beautiful. On the other side of a thin sheet of glass I see my helicopter, slightly bruised but in one piece. I, Pilot Power Master HeliCyrus RazorClaw Cerebros do not understand it. I, Pilot Power Master HeliCyrus RazorClaw Cerebros cannot rationalize it, but I do not care, for it is there.
I, Pilot Power Master HeliCyrus RazorClaw Cerebros may have cried a little. No big dea,l okay?
The “man” who has brought me this wonderful moment kneels beside me, speaking into my ear.
“You will fly it for us. You will teach us.”
I, Pilot Power Master HeliCyrus RazorClaw Cerebros cannot understand why he would ask this of me, but am so endeared to them for saving my craft that I do not question him.
“Yes,” I, Pilot Power Master HeliCyrus RazorClaw Cerebros agree, “I’ll fly it. I, Pilot Power Master HeliCyrus RazorClaw Cerebros will fly it.”

-OSK

Still DOGGED!
Still dogged.
Are you?

scifiultraists.0catch.com
Shameless plug, it's coming back...

No, it's not coming back.

We're Going Supernova, Bitch

2008-04-11T18:39:00.000-07:00

http://www.nytimes.com/2008/03/29/science/29collider.html?_r=1&scp=2&sq=overbye&st=nyt&oref=slogin

Okay, let’s let that sink in for a moment. Humanity is now playing with a device capable of destroying the earth. Now, don’t get me wrong, I’ve always said if I could die in any cool way, it’d be implosion (or torque, among other things), and being crushed into a singularity is pretty much the closest you can get on a global level, unless of course you live on a sun. So yes, it’s a badass means of global destruction. But let’s wait a few billion years until the earth is in immediate peril anyhow, or at least until after my selfish ass is dead.
But seriously, I do understand the plight of the scientists involved, and even sympathize with their problems of public opinion. Research is research, and as far as knowledge of the universe goes, we’ve taken leaps and bounds in the past 40 years in comparison to the 500 before it. There could be great cosmic truths, simple yet elusive physical laws awaiting our revelation around the corner of any project such as the Large Hadron Collider. It cost $8 billion dollars and countless hours to make, and there is apparently only a slight, slight chance that a black hole will be created. What I’m trying to say is that the guys who built this are way smarter and devoted to science than you and me, and it’s got to be a pain in the ass for geniuses such as themselves to have to put up with accusations of apocalyptic orchestration every time the intellectually inferior masses hear big trigger words like “ particle accelerator” and “one billionth of a second” and “simulate…big bang”. Moral of the story: They’re probably right, and we’re probably idiots.
But as the journalist seems to imply (Sorry if I’m putting words in your mouth, Dennis), the risk may be too great. I know I’m obviously a bit biased towards this journalist’s opinion, but he has some good points. Specifically, global destruction is global destruction, and even if the chances are 1000 to 1, if it happens, it’s over. I guess I’m just shocked by the idea that a few physicists in some warehouse somewhere could throw a switch and wipe out millions of years of human history.
I don’t honestly think any harm will come of this, but the idea that it could be that simple is astounding. I just hope those safety checks are thourough. You don’t fuck with this shit.

-OSK

Over my blogging hiatus Arthur C. Clarke died, which is very sad. The man who gave us great books, movies, and according to Trivial Pursuit the radar, will be missed. Go read 2001.

Going Out Like A

2008-03-19T22:12:00.000-07:00

It’s funny; you have tons of ideas for posts when you have no time, but when you get three weeks of free time, you can’t think of anything to say.

So I was checking out the iTunes reviews for the Audioslave Album “Revelations”, and I came across this review:

“Audioslave is the threshold upon which rock listeners conquer with their valiant steeds. Buy all three albums and go see them live.”

Okay, seriously? Valiant steeds? That sounds like something I would say to mock one of the many things the general population does not but I do not. But, based on the second half of the comment, this guy is actually a fan. That’s embarrassing. Someone obviously takes their music way too seriously.

On the Battlestar note from the last post, SciFi had greenlit a backdoor pilot for a prequel spinoff series called Caprica. Apparently it’s going to be more a soap opera and less a war show than Battlestar. That worries me, but I’ll be hopeful.

-OSK

I couldn’t understand something on wikipedia and my first thought was “I should check wikipedia to understand this better”.

From here on in I live my life through retroactive continuity.

Frak the Norm

2008-03-03T14:02:00.001-08:00

I’ve been spending some of my free time in the last few days bumping around the net, reading various search results which come up as the result of the words “theology” and “Battlestar Galactica”. As some of you mat know, the upcoming season of the reimagined Battlestar Galactica has been announced to be the final season, and that leaves us fans to wonder about what closure could possibly result from the series. Mainly, I’m interested in the closure of the religious plotlines of the show which pit monotheism against polytheism.
A primer for those of you who do not watch: The basic plot of the show is that there is a race of humans in a galaxy separate from our own. Thousands of years ago, a tribe of these humans journeyed into space and landed on earth, where they became a primary part of our ancestry. According to Battlestar many if not all of us are descended from them. The people who stayed behind built a technologically advanced civilization over time, creating fleets of battle (space) ships and building a race of robot servants called Cylons. Long story short, the Cylons become sentient and rebel against the humans, there is a huge war until finally an armistice is called. The show takes place 30 years later when the Cylons (many of whom have evolved into “human-forms”, that is, unidentifiable from humans) nuke the massive human civilization, wiping out all but a few thousand of them. A fleet of ships (led by Galactica) decides to journey to find Earth and their long-lost brethren while the Cylons pursue them.
The real intrigue of the show to me, however, is the religious continuity. The humans are polytheistic, and their Gods are one and the same as the Greek gods of earth. The two explanations for this are 1) The 13th Colony (the humans who originally went to earth) brought Greek religion to earth, or 2) The Battlestar creators are going to try to have embodiments of Greek Gods appear on the show in some scientifically sound (or a scifi show) way. I may note that this is what they did with the Cylon God, who turned out to be the missing link in the evolution between machine and human-form.
One observation I found especially interesting during my browsing was the idea that the Cylons are a metaphor for us humans IRL. The Cylons are completely aware that they are machines. They understand exactly how they are made, and yet they still feel the need to rationalize their existence with a God. Is this perhaps a statement about the foolishness of those who reject a scientific explanation for life on earth? If so, then how do the creators mean to depict the humans, who carry on their polytheistic Greek beliefs? I’m a Latin student, and have had my fair share of learning about Greek tradition. The Greeks, historically, are a proud people, almost obsessed with honor, characterized by the stoicism movement, among others. However, the soap-opera quality of Battlestar Galactica seems to contradict this idea of honor. In fact, I’d go so far as to say any principles of Greek life are not present in Battlestar, save for the religious figures. The humans are not unanimously devout in their belief system, either, which contrasts sharply with the Cylons. In this way, it seems that the writers are making a statement about how religion is not something people truly hold to.
The Christ imagery in the Cylon religion is pretty heavy as well. Twelve human-form Cylon models suggests twelve disciples. Aside from that, we discover in the TV movie “Battlestar Galactica: Razor” (Really horrid movie, by the way, felt wrong and disloyal through and through) that the Cylon God is the Cylon who is the genetic link between the pure machines and the human-forms. So supposedly he ushered in the race which are the twelve human forms? Does that perhaps suggest creating his people in his own image?
Let’s run with the Christ imagery for a bit, yes? At the beginning of Season 3, the Cylon model D’Anna (Lucy Lawless, known better to many of us as Xena) began to get “too curious” about her faith, and the other Cylons decided to discontinue her model. My theory here- she’s Judas.
Let me explain. The “Final Five” are human form Cylons whom the other human forms do not know the identities of. According to their religion, they should not seek out the Final Five, though they should hold a great dear of respect for them. D’Anna tried to find out who the Final Five were, and she got “boxed”. Okay, so she didn’t sell out her Lord, but she did go against his wishes. Actually, that Judas thing isn’t great. Maybe she’s Jesus. I mean, she was trying to lead her people to a great revelation, and in killing her they more or less crucified her.
All I can say is, Season Four should have some big surprises in store as far as didactive religion go. If anyone cares, my guesses for the fifth Cylon are either Starbuck or Geida.

-OSK

My fucking Twin isn’t working. Screw you, George Sullivan.

Some Uptight Right Wing Political Homicide

2008-02-28T18:11:00.000-08:00

I know it’s unlike me, but I feel the need to address the current presidential candidates. And by “presidential candidates” I of course mean democratic presidential candidates, as I subscribe to the prediction that the democratic candidate who gets the party nomination will be the president. Then again, I could just be thinking that because the Democrats are the most outspoken during this campaign, but I do believe Americans are looking for someone who’ll promise change, as opposed to someone who promises 100 more years in Iraq.
A friend of mine brought up a good point with me the other day- Americans focus too little on a presidential candidate’s plans and views on issues, and too much on their personality. I certainly feel that this is a flaw of mine, though a somewhat justified one. In my eyes, a candidate who can’t win the trust of the people through personality probably doesn’t have the charisma for smooth foreign diplomacy. This is my problem with Clinton. In the last debate she had with Obama, Clinton seemed to be on the brink of losing control. While Obama sat back and coolly dealt with the questions (almost accusations) Clinton threw at him, Clinton seemed like she was ready to start yelling. Once again, I hate for factors like that to be the deciding factor, but Obama and Clinton have both admitted that most of their ideals are at least 95% the same. Nitpicky stuff like this is becoming the choice between the two candidates. After all, can we afford to have someone as aggressive as Clinton negotiating with our enemies? One thing I have to give her is that she is the antithesis of wishy-washy. I feel secure that the beliefs she advocates will not be gimmicks for election, but will be what she enforces if elected to office.
Having put her down, I also must admit that I’ve had a lack of faith in Obama’s credibility from the get-go. He has bred an army of millions of followers (most under 30 years of age, from my limited observation), people I like to refer to as “Obama Zombies”, people who seem so wrapped up in his optimistic projections of unity that they’ve lost sight of its unrealistic nature. In all her frenzy and mockery, Clinton had a good point in the last debate, a point which embodied all of my Obama doubts, the accusation that Obama is full of stories of a wonderful world that we’ll all live in if he’s elected, and all of our problems will go away. This is how it’s been since the beginning. Months ago I asked one of the “Obama Zombies” I know what his policy was, and I was subjected to a day dream-esque story of unity, and how the parties will be at peace finally, and stated how amazing it was that a black man was in this position, and how that will promote unity in and of itself. I don’t know about you, but I will not vote for a man just because his racial diversity will look like progress. When I pushed the question of his policies, my local Zombie responded that he was sure I could find them online. That didn’t raise my confidence in Zombie credibility.
However, someone brought up a good point with me today- The idea that the media may be portraying only the “unrealistic hope” side of Obama, and only the stern, competitive side of Clinton. Seeing as I’ve been working on that disinformation paper, it seemed a valid possibility to me. But after reviewing the policies of both candidates, I returned to my original conclusion, which is that these two candidates are just too similar, and so the only real competition the media has to go on is their different personalities. If this is true, then isn’t there something wrong with our two-party political system? The whole idea of democracy is to give people a choice, right? What choice is there in two candidates who are self-admittedly almost the same figure? Yes, it’s true, we also have the republican candidates, but the two parties really only ever guarantee a choice between two extremes- conservative and liberal. Maybe the Testify music video got it right. Maybe this is why so few Americans actually exercise their right to vote.
Okay, so referencing a Rage video probably takes down my credibility a bit, but whatever. And speaking of that video, what’s up with Nader these days? When I was very young, I had a sort of naïve respect for the man. He knows he can’t win, and yet he keeps trying, if only to make a statement about the two party system, a statement I agree with. When 2000 rolled around, I saw him as doing the respectable, optimistic thing he always did, and accidentally finding himself in a huge mess. I’m ashamed to say I actually felt badly for him. This time around, I’d like to think that he’s still just running to uphold the ideal of more than two parties, but I can’t help but agree with people that he’s just trying to stir things up. Really Nader, maybe it’s time to call it quits.
All of this said, I think that if I could vote, right now my eyes would be set on Obama. Like I said, I’m not sold on Clinton’s diplomatic charisma, and honestly, I would like to see us out of Iraq in a year.
In other political news, I’m guessing my re-election to student government will not go well. I’ve always had a bad rep with my fellow members of student government, but now I think they’re really getting pissed. You see, because I’m always busy with theater rehearsals, I haven’t been able to make it to any of the 15 or so major meetings we’ve had this year. The only meeting I ever went to was on a night when rehearsal was uncharacteristically late,a nd even then I could only stay for 10 minutes or so. I spent those ten minutes reading essays a faculty member had asked us to read- Arguments by girls that boys put too much pressure on them to be physically perfect and stereotypically girly. While it’s all well and good to ask males in general to be cooler people, it’s not very realistic to think it will work, as I told the council. I went on to explain how the cycle of girls being pressured was perpetuated by girls who conformed to the pressures in the first place. As opposed to asking for things to change, girls should take charge and be who they want to be, and it’s their own fault if they don’t.
Seeing as most of the council were girls, that didn’t go over so well, and for many of them that was their one exposure to me as a class officer. While I won’t be so daring again, I hold to my opinion. I guess it’s time I cranked up my political charisma to win back the hearts of my council mates.

-OSK

Have you ever actually met someone who admits to liking Larry the Cable Guy? How does he ever get enough money to support himself?

Because I Said I Would

2008-02-28T17:04:00.000-08:00

Gumdrops are nice. There’s something wonderful about gooey cancer covered in cancer sprinkled with cancer. Okay, I made a cancer joke today and it didn’t go over so well with anyone. Ignore that thing I said about cancer.
The most beautiful thing about gum drops, in my opinion, is the return to them. Though we (mainly I) take them in massive quantities, they really are meant to be savored, as they are a beautiful thing. Unfortunately, my comrade Koops and I have gone without these sacred cancer gems (damnit!) for a couple of months now, as we have been too overrun with school commitments to enjoy life in the least. However, by some miracle we found the time to enjoy them today. And let me just say, the first bite after 2 months of abstinence is divine. In fact, the only reason I’m blogging about this is because the first words out of my mouth after eating my first one were “blog-worthy!”, which in retrospect was pretty dorky.

Yes, I’m aware that my blogging this week has taken a turn for the crudely shallow. Maybe tomorrow I’ll blog about pondering God. Nah, maybe Battlestar…No, maybe both…

-OSK

Haha I got the thumbs up on that history paper. Who woulda thought?

STOP LAUGHING

2008-02-25T16:33:00.000-08:00

It seems that entertainment has become a hunt for comedy, which seems a shame to me. Comedy is a great tool for lightening the mood of a serious story, but too often comic relief becomes the focus of what should be a serious production. Not the focus of the writer; if the writer wants to write a comedy, by all means they should. But audiences most often take the serious and ignore it, searching only for comic relief.
This is, in a way, an attack on the high school theater scene. I love to act, sure, but I don’t always like the way the audience reacts to our productions. Take my spring one-act from last year as an example, F.J. Hartland’s “Auto-Erotic Misadventure”. In the spirit of our spring one act plays, the show had sexual themes, as the title blatantly suggests. However (and surprisingly), it was easily the most serious and dramatic of all of the one acts. I do not mean to suggest that it was a better play for this reason than the others, but it did not elicit the response it would have in a higher level of production. Sure, there were funny parts, but overall it was a drama, and though it was met with high praise, it was dominantly met with inapropraite giggles. But we can chalk that one up to an audience with a high school maturity, right?
Wrong. The truth is, this hunt for humor exists on even higher levels. Let’s take, for an example, a specific show I’ve been watching (on Sundays at 10 ‘o clock on AMC, because of course you wouldn’t know that). It is what is classified as a “dark comedy”, a genre title which I believe epitomizes all which is wrong with this hunt for humor. Dark comedies are, essentially tragedies. There rarely is any outstanding humor in them (but then again neither is there really any in most sitcoms either), but to recognize that your show is a hardcore drama is to condemn it to cancellation, especially in its early years. After all, the only channel that makes blatant claims of drama is TNT, and who the hell watches that? No, this specific show is not a comedy. Rather, it is clever in its writing, which apparently is enough justification for “comedy” classification. I heartily chuckle while watching it once, maybe twice in each hour episode, but it is still gripping. So why classify it as a “dark comedy”? Are all audiences really so addictively fixated on laughs that every performance ever must be some freak mutation of comedy, even the completely depressing?

Oh, and as far as “Auto-Erotic” goes, apparently it offended some faculty members so much that there is going to be extra supervision of our one acts this year. Needless to say, I’m pissed. The last thing I want to be cast in is your run-of-the-mill one act: a campy, horny sex comedy, but ours last year was smart and thought-provoking, and people saying differently must be taking it at crude face value.

-OSK

FCFTSOFC

These stupid abbreviations have to stop.

My Twin and Me

2008-02-24T10:03:00.000-08:00

No, I’m not referring to Tom Morello. That beauty right there is my FC Twin, the system illegally developed long ago (though Nintendo doesn’t give a shit now anyways) to play both NES and SNES games. Okay, that one’s not actually mine, I just googled a photograph of one. I didn’t really want to go to all the trouble of borrowing a digital camera, photographing my system, figuring out how to upload it, etc. But mostly I just don’t want to because my childhood has been scarred by a family who has an obsession with photographing anything, and so I won’t let myself get a camera. Like alchoholism, it may be a genetic thing.
You may ask me why I bought an FC Twin when I have a Wii. After all, the Wii has internet connectivity which allows you to buy old games from the NES and SNES, and you can even play them with a classic controller, plus the whole package comes out cheaper than the FC Twin. Well, the truth is, that hadn’t occurred to me. But somehow I don’t regret it. It’s going to feel awesomely old school to being using authentic cartridges, struggling with controllers whose chords are annoyingly short, and I get great pleasure out of hitting the switch which shifts between 8-bit and 16-bit. That, and I’m hoping that it will all be worth something some day. Yes, I’m aware it looks tacky (and it weighs about as much as an empty cardboard box), but I’m going classic all the way. Let’s just hope all the hype about Super Mario Bros. 3 is true.
Also, I think I’m going to sell a bunch of my N64 games. Don’t fear, readers, these will only be the crappy ones you’ve never played because I never let you because they disappointed me so years ago. Also, the Wii sorta makes having a GameCube pointless. Don’t worry, Sarge’s Heroes is here to stay.

-OSK

Let it be known that talking to strangers is a good thing, and works flawlessly. Stupid lying parents.

A Cooler version of Myself (MYSELF!)

2008-02-23T21:55:00.000-08:00

Let's compare these two videos:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=tkJzXLL4890
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=t2WQtc8f6_Y

Can you spot the connection? The first video is of a live Rage Against the Machine performance at the Tibetan Freedom concert in 1999. The second video is a clip from the Season six episode of Star Trek Voyager, "The Good Shepard". Still can't spot the similarity? Well, here it is: The awesome guy on guitar in the Rage video (Tom Morello) is crewman Mitchell in the Voyager clip.
Now, Tom Morello is without a doubt one of the most innovative guitar players of our time, using factors such as the whammy bar, so called wawa peddle, and feedback (among other tools, such as rubbing an Allen wrench up and down the neck of his guitar to create the unique riff in "People of the Sun") to make his guitar sound like anything but a guitar. So undoubtedly, he's already awesome in my book, plus he belongs to a kickass band. He's also on my list (as is his guitar, though in a seperate position). I honestly didn't think he could get any more points in my book, but I was wrong. While belonging to a supremely successful band (thus not requiring the monetary gain), he settled for an extremely minor role on Star Trek Voyager, simply because he is such a huge Star Trek fan.
This gives evidence to my theory that all of my seemingly random interests are somehow connected, that somehow they all fit into a demographic. After all, let's not forget that there are legions (yes, legions) of shy readers exactly like me who read this blog but never comment.
And let's not overlook the fact that Morello was wearing a Cubs hat in the Rage video, and that most youtube rage videos are posted by a guy named nintendoplayer and a guy who has a paper mario avatar. I am anything but individual. Tom Morello is my god.

-OSK

"I'm so high, and you're so tall!"
-Random girl whom I hope not to meet the acquiantance of again.

In A Camera, Darkly

2008-02-18T22:05:00.000-08:00

It’s all over now, and surprisingly, I’m sad. Somehow I actually have fond memories of this musical, even though it was a stressful mess which destroyed my school grades (previously the best I’ve ever had). Most of this I can attribute to my good friend fake nostalgia. Theater productions have a way of eliciting fake nostalgia, as I end up spending so much time working on them that it’s hard not to form some sort of connection with the production. The weird thing is that the theater group remains not really my clique, so I don’t have too much of a reason to miss it.
What’s really been eating at me is the fact that I’ll never act with any of the seniors again. Every high school student knows that Graduation is a beautiful and tragic thing. It’s one of the blatant major changes in life, an inevitability that everyone is mostly excited for, but a bit remorseful about as well. The theater seniors are ridiculously cool as a whole, and I’m not sure how I feel about continuing on without them. Like it or not, my classmates and I have to lead the theater team next year, and that’s frightening.
But I’m also going to miss them as people. I’m not necessarily great friends with any of them (like I said, it’s never really become my clique), but I can never help my wondering. After one of the musical performances, a senior from last year approached me in congratulation, but I felt that it was more than a formality. She complimented me on my performance, and then went on to genuinely express how much she enjoys watching me act, something she had told me last year as well. I don’t consider myself a crap actor, but I don’t consider myself particularly outstanding either, and once again I was left to wonder why she enjoyed my performance so much. I am left to speculate that it is because, over the course of the year we acted alongside each other (a year in which we often shared the stage but never any character interaction) she was able to watch me grow from a fetus of an actor into a fledgling. And that’s why Graduation is a tragedy for those left behind- Not really friends at all last year, I believe she and I could be very good friends today. I guess this relates back to my pot about all the people you could know if circumstances were different- I can’t help but wonder what my life would be like in a different situation.
As far as judging my own acting goes, I have discovered that watching yourself act is an unforgivable sin. Yes, I am a high school actor, and yes, that does mean expectations are low, but I cannot express enough how disappointed I was when I saw the DVD of one of our rehearsals.
You see, when I’m on stage I feel convincing, in character, and not at all OSK. But what I saw on the DVD was the awkward, blocky, unexpressive OSK of the real world struggling to be something he wasn’t. I can only suspect that this is because when I watch myself I see something which others do not- I see OSK’s motives behind the character’s motives and actions. I see myself trying to be the character instead of being ready to believe that I am the character. I am unable to suspend reality as an audience can.
At least that’s my hope. I know decent people would never say anything bad about my acting, but still, I’d like to think that I’ve had enough positive feedback from my roles that I’m more believable to an audience than to myself. Even so, I’m going to be drilling a lot of scenes in my off-time to get my self esteem up. Moral of the story- Watching yourself act is officially the eighth Deadly Sin.
On an unrelated note, the game creators for 1980s systems were complete perverts. A bunch of the friend group (myself included) spent the night hanging with a guy for whom I have no blogosphere alias, a guy who had pretty much every game known to man on his Xbox. And not just Xbox games, everything you could possibly name from the original Atari, NES, all the way through N64. He even had a few games no one’s ever heard of. Custer’s Revenge, for example, is a game for the Atari 2600 which, as the title suggests, allows the historic General Custer to enact his wrath upon the Indian people. The gameplay consists of moving a naked Custer (with blatant rope-like genetalia) across the screen, avoiding the arrows of the Indian attacks. If you reach the right side of the screen, there is a large-breasted naked Indian woman bound to a pole whom you violate, all in 8-bit. The best part is that one of the people playing managed to get a high score of 69. I’m not even going to get into Beat ‘Em and Eat ‘Em. Check that one out yourself. Let’s just say it’s a good thing that games are actually filtered these days.

-OSK

How did that giant scorpion get on that train?

LeVar Burton Told Me To

2008-02-16T11:38:00.000-08:00

You may be able to tell by my recent summary of the Vietnam War conspiracy that I’m not exactly doing so great with education right now. The truth is, this musical has really taken away from my studies. Usually I wouldn’t mind this, as I suspect theater will have a much larger on my influence than the majority of my academic subjects, but I do feel guilty about not getting work in, especially when it piles up. As if the guilt weren’t enough, I’m now getting crap from teachers. One in particular says he “feels abused” because he thinks I’ve been using the show as an excuse to not do his class’ work. The worst part about this is that most teachers have a dillusion that if they say they’re cutting you slack, it means they’re cutting you slack. This means that I’ve been getting a lot of “I know I’ve been cutting you a lot of slack, but…” when in actuality I’ve gotten guilt trips and tongue lashings all week.
Now that the show is actually at the performance stage, it’s not nearly as stressful as it was. The first performance was a lot of fun, and we’ve all generally cooled down. However, it’s hard to forget the nervous misery of anxiety from the last week. Between stressful rehearsals and being berated by teachers, I feel that I need to do some things that will remind me that life is actually a lot of fun sometimes.
I am not what you would call a productive member of society. I have barely any work ethic, and my mind is of a rigid structure, always trying to resist absorbing new knowledge. This makes school work a bitch. My theory for how I got this way is by nurture. After all, I’ve got a pretty sharp mind when it comes to creativity, and I used to be a pretty smart kid in other academic aspects back in my middle school days. This leads me to believe that I have a lot of buried/lost potential. I likely fried this potential by beginning a cycle when I was very young which continues, to a degree, today: My gluttony. As a child I fed myself absurd amounts of video games and television while other children were likely reading books and actually trying to understand their math homework, whereas I just learned enough math to barely slide by. All of the aforementioned bad choices (save for maybe the television obsession) I continue to make today. But when I say “bad choices”, I mean from an academic standpoint. Basically, my habits are frowned upon by pretty much everyone. However, I’m not so sure I regret them. After all, I don’t do any of this mindless crap instead of my work, I just allow them to lull me into a mental coma when I’ve got free time.
The misconception that most adults hold is that, because I enjoy spending free time that way, and because I’m not the best student, they assume I slack instead of doing work. Usually I’d brush this off as them being judgmental jerks, but during Hell week it’s a little too…dick-like.
I don’t mean to make it sound like a moron, I’m just a bit stressed out since we just ahd a 2-hour talk about colleges. It terrified me because all of the advice we were given seemed to work on the assumption that we were all brilliant, a claim which I can’t quite make.
Still, I do regret not stretching my brain in the last couple of years. Frankly, after Hell Week, I need something to restore my faith in humanity (the Brotherhood of Man). First off, I haven’t seen a play in about a year. In my hierarchy of happiest places to be, at a good (modern) play is third, after at a concert and at a baseball game. I’m really desperate to see a play from the outside once again. Believe me, the view’s a bit narrow from backstage.
Secondly, I’m going to read a book. What with school commitments usually taking up about 10 hours of every day, I never have the time to read, and even lost the desire for a while. English class, however, has reawakened me. In a weird way, I’m actually enjoying Gatsby. 3 chapters in and I don’t quite see the point of it yet, but it’s easy to read, and mildly interesting. After all of the other stuff we’ve read, I assumed reading was always painful, but now I remember. So, my two steps to slight enlightenment are 1. See a (modern) play, and 2. Read an interesting book.
Now if I could only find the time.

-OSK

I love Dispatch, but who the hell is Pete Francis?

Better than 'Nam

2008-02-13T10:49:00.002-08:00

Everybody hates term papers. This is an universal truth. However. There are levels to which your term paper can be burdensome and suck. There’s the usual- You have a valid topic with plenty of information, and writing the paper is just annoying and requires effort you don’t want to spend. But then there’s my kind of term paper. You see, I’m fool enough to want to be different. I could’ve picked a topic which had plenty of information, like the Cold War or something World War II related. But no, I picked Vietnam. Given, Vietnam was a pretty big deal and has a lot of books written about it. But, being the daring (idiotic) student I am, I had to research disinformation during Vietnam.
We all know it happened. It’s sort of an accepted truth that everyone takes for granted, but I can’t find any source that gives me constant examples. Sure, you’ve got the Pentagon Papers. I thought that would be my saving grace, but unfortunately I forgot that the Pentagon Papers are 7,000 pages long. And believe it or not, it’s not 7,000 pages of juicy Vietnam disinformation tactics.
But I’ll stop bitching. What I really want to do is share with you all my startling findings of Vietnam disinformation. Once I dug deep enough, there is actually an astonishing amount of hidden meaning behind all of the government’s actions at the time. So without further ado, let me tell you what really happened in Vietnam:

August 4th, 1964. Two American Destroyers tread Vietnamese water in the Gulf of Tonkin in an attempt to survey the happenings of the Vietnamese conflict. The story goes that Vietnamese torpedo ships confronted the US Destroyers and attacked. The Destroyers escaped in a narrow escape.
Indeed, that was the story Lyndon Johnson told the American public. However, CIA agent Victor Marchetti would later retire and publish the truth in his essay to the Revisionist Conference, “Propoganda and Disinformation: How the CIA Manufactures History” ( http://www.vho.org/GB/Journals/JHR/9/3/Marchetti305-320.html). In the essay, he explains how the Gulf of Tonkin incident involved no actual battle at all. Vietnamese torpedoes never did fire upon the US vessels. The men aboard the Destroyers though that there may have been attack attempts, but there was no damage to the ship, and no one saw any fire. So why did Lyndon Johnson report an attack to the American people?
The report came from the captain of one of the American Destroyers, Kid Sticklan. According to his engineer, Stricklan had a discussion with Johnson in which Johnson “heavily suggested” that Stricklan tell Congress that he had seen torpedo fire. Stricklan did so, and Johnson received his “blank check” from Congress, essentially, his permission slip to enter Vietnam.
So why was Johnson so eager to enter Vietnam? In the Pentagon Papers, it is clearly documented that, long before, the Gulf of Tonkin, Johnson had been looking for a window of opportunity to enter Vietnam. In an entry to the Pentagon Papers, Johnson states that their entrance into Vietnam is on a “contingency basis”. Meaning he was looking for the right moment.
So why enter Vietnam? Well, apparently Stricklan wasn’t just the captain of the Destroyer. He was also a Russian spy. In the document “Stricklan is a Commy”, it is revealed that Johnson was actually the puppet of the U.S.S.R. The Russian dictator of the time, Joseph Stalin II, was actually behind a brilliant scam.
Enter the computer geniuses. Just decades after the computer’s inception into the world’s culture, the U.S.S.R. was already developing brainwashing computer technology. Stalin, having obtained an exclusive copy of page 128 from his Japanese brethren, finally knew where to find the one man he had been searching for all of his life.
As the US marched on Vietnam (according to Stalin’s wishes, unbeknownst to them), Stalin readied his cartridge.
5 years into Vietnam, and Stalin had completed the Banjo Kazooie portion. As the American public began to lose enthusiasm in the fight, Stalin ordered Johnson to report false body counts to the people to increase morale. He then proceeded to stage two: getting the ice key, and slamming the Banjo Tooie cartridge into the N64. He now had approximately a minute and a half before his N64 exploded. He raced to the ice vault to find a hologram of Luigi saying “Help me, Banjo Kazooie, you’re my only hope.”
Stalin’s N64 exploded from the shards of cartridge jammed into it, and he was fatally maimed on April 30, 1975. His death broke the hypnotic hold he had on American president Gerald Ford. Ford immediately realized what had happened and pulled out of Vietnam. After all, why else would we have possibly stayed so long?
Alas, Luigi may still be alive…somewhere in Vietnam.
Stalin’s copy of page 128 was never recovered from the explosion.

I think this is a definite 100%.

Seriously, I’m gonna get shot someday.

-OSK

Hey reader…you’re ugly.

Not What The Doctor Ordered

2008-02-12T12:02:00.000-08:00

Whose idea was this?

http://gateworld.net/news/2008/02/robert_picardo_joins_iatlantisi_.shtml

I’ll admit, I’m a Stargate fan. I don’t talk about it much, because it’s a bit of a social stigma, even among Science Fiction fans. Stargate does not get the respect which Star Trek, Star Wars, and Battlestar Galactica do (and neither does it really deserve it). Being a Gatehead is sorta like being an outcast from the outcasts.
And I like all that mainstream outcast stuff, most of it (maybe not “Wars”) more than I do Gate. But I have to admit that I enjoy Gate a lot. I enjoy the irreverent, almost campy humor. I’m okay with overlooking the fact that most of the characters are flat and only created to glorify the round ones. I’ll be honest, one of the things I like about Gate that I always felt was missing from Trek was a sense of realism. That seems weird, since most of Gate consists of jumping the shark. But I mean it feels like a more hands-on experience. The characters are less bound by their perfect moral codes and more willing to fight for what they instinctually believe. Besides, P-90 fire is a bit more satisfying than energy weaponry. Don’t get me wrong though, Trek pwns Gate any day.
But for a show that constantly jumps the shark and sells out for gimmick value, this Woolsey thing is almost too real. First of all, why would you ever get rid of Weir? She was an awesome character! Carter sure didn’t pull the ratings up when she took charge of the Atlantis expedition, and now she leaving too. The expedition leaders are just getting more and more ridiculous. I mean, Woolsey? Picardo’s a great actor, Voyager showed us that, but Woolsey is not exactly cut out for a leadership role.
On the bright side, it should make for some good plots, what with the expedition being led by a complete dumbass. I mean, who knows what kind of dumb shit Woolsey will get Atlantis into? He’ll probably try to make peace with the Wraith or some crap like that.
On the one hand, the Trekkie inside of me finds this hilariously awesome. I mean, every show has to tank eventually, and if this is the way Atlantis is going to go, it’s quite amusing. However, I am left to wonder whether a show can be salvaged from all of this. Honestly, I haven’t been watching Season Four. This isn’t because I don’t want to, but because I don’t have the time on Friday nights to sit down and watch it, then rewatch it and then chat about it on the forums, and then rewatch it again the next morning. And really, what other way is there to watch Stargate? No, I think I’ll just get the Season Four Box Set when it comes out and watch the whole thing straight.
So who knows, maybe it’ll be good. Don’t knock it ‘til you’ve rocked it. But c’mon, Picardo’s no Picard.

-OSK

Tally-ho…

Sean Mims' Musical Offenses

2008-02-08T19:38:00.000-08:00

“Mims once again gives fans a glimpse of talent. Something that gives you hope…Mims delivers a solid debut.”
-Jason Fleurant
“…the 26-year-old Manhattan MC adopts Jay-Z’s staccato flow…His seamless shift from pimp tales to reflective narratives…versatility”
-Henry Adaso
“a catchy little thing with a cool …beat and some goofy charm…the beats keep things moving…Kick back and enjoy it.”
-Christian Hoard

It seems to me that it was far from right for the reviewers of “Nobody’s Smiling”, “About.com”, and “Rolling Stone” to deliver opinions on Mim’s music without having heard some of it. It would have been much more Hot to keep silent and let those homies talk who have heard Mims.
Mims’ art has some defects. In one place in “Like This”, and in the restricted space of two thirds of a song, Mims has scored 114 offenses against musical art out of a possible 115.
There are nineteen rules governing musical art in the domain of hip hop- some say twenty-two. In “Like This” Mims violated eighteen of them. These eighteen require:

1. That a song shall go somewhere and change somewhow. But “Like This” goes nowhere and changes like a stubborn teenager.
2. They require that all vocalists in a song shall be alive, except in the case of absent ones, and that always the listener should be able to tell the absent ones from the others. But this detail has often been overlooked in “Like This”.
3. They require that the vocalists in a song, both absent and present, shall exhibit a sufficient excuse for being there. But this detail has also been overlooked in the “Like This” song.
4. They require that when the vocalists in a song deal in lyrics, the lyrics should sound pleasing, and being lyrics such as human beings would be likely to enjoy, and have a discoverable (if not intelligent) meanings, also a discoverable beat, and a show of talent, and remain in the neighborhood of the slightly audibly titillating, and be worthwhile to the listener, and help out the genre, and stop when the lyricist cannot think of anything more to say. But this requirement has been ignored from the beginning of the “Like This” song to the end of it.
5. They require that when the lyricist describes himself in the manner he does, the lyrics and musical quality shall justify said description. But this law gets little or no attention in the “Like This” song.
6. They require that when a vocalist raps of his superiority and talent in the beginning of a song, that he not prove himself wrong by the end of it.
7. They require that the MC shall make the listener feel at least a slight interest in the song and in its build. But the content of “Like This” is so bland that the listener wishes he could drown the song altogether.
8. They require that the quality of the song be so clearly defined from the start that the listener can tell exactly how it will turn out. And actually, Mims doesn’t violate this. The beginning sucks, and so does the rest.

Mims’ gift in the way of flow was not a rich endowment; but such as it was he liked to torture us by working it, he was somehow pleased with the effects, and indeed he did some quite sweet things with it. In his little box of unoriginal pop-crap devices he kept one or zero braindead devices, tricks, flat beats for his stale rhymes and uninteresting mixes to disguise each other with, and was never so happy as when he was working these terrible concoctions and seeing them go. One was to have a terrible beat tread in the footsteps of awful vocals which were too repetitive to not hypnotize the masses, thus covering up the terrible beat’s existence. The repetition is like being hypnotized with Rage, except you’re being hypnotized with suck rather than awesome. Another device that he pulled out of his box pretty frequently was the guest vocalist. His trick was to bring talent into a song which he had sucked it from, but unfortunately his guest vocalists had none themselves.
Mim’s is certainly not a master in the construction of lyrics. Insufficient talent defeated him here as it did in so many other enterprises. He even failed to notice that the flows which suck 15 tracks an album must suck the 16th time, too. But no, he thought it could be good.
Mim’s flow sense was singularly dull. When a person ahs a poor ear for music, he will flat and sharp right along without knowing it. Mims had the smarts to know this, but unfortunately thought his forte would be in the world of the monotone. He keeps near the monotone, but unfortunately tries for rhymes now and again.
A work of music? It has no invention, no appeal, nothing at all aesthetically pleasing; it has no pop-likeness, no thrill, no stir, just a painful drawling, analogous to being dragged through a garden full of pirhana plants.
Counting these defects out, what is left is Art. I think we must all admit that.
-OSK

Pastiche that, literary world. Pastiche that.

Video Game Review: Super Mario Galaxy (Wii)

2008-02-06T13:49:00.000-08:00

Alas, I am finally ready to review the release which is Super Mario Galaxy. It’s a game for the Wii, which is now infamous for its new and somewhat innovative controller interface. I think I may have mentioned the game here once or twice. I read many reviews of the game before buying it. Usually I would be a puritan about not spoiling it, but I suspected that those who reviewed the game had not played much of it, and I was right. All of the reviews I’ve read were obviously written by people who rushed the first 60 stars of the game to fight the final Bowser, and then called it quits so they could get their review out quickly. After all, they’re getting paid for their reviews (probably), but I’m not. So yes, I may have taken a month to beat it, and yes, it’s been 3 months since it came out, but at least I’m not calling the game easy because the first 60 stars were easy (of course they are) and calling it quits. You get the whole picture.
The Super Mario games have always been an experience. Mario became immediately famous from his NES releases, games which set the stage or the side-scrolling genre. Back in the day, Nintendo would happily crank out mutiple Mario games (3 on the NES) to eager fans. These games, however, were not so much separate entities as they were the previous game continued in a supplement, similar to sequels in the Halo series, which don’t have too much more in creativity to add to their predecessors. Any idea reused enough times, however, is bound to get old, and Nintendo knew this. I can only imagine was it must have been like to pop your “Super Mario 64” cartridge into your brand new N64 for the first time. It must have been startling to see a 3D Mario emerge from a 3D pipe in front of a massive 3D castle in graphical rendering which was at the time magnificent. The 3D aspect literally added a new dimension to world exploration and enemy combat, and suddenly Mario games did not have to be completely linear. Indeed, “Super Mario 64” was the new life for not only Mario games, but platformers at large.
64 introduced the platformer structure which Mario and other games still utilize today. The game takes place in one large world, in which lie several smaller worlds. In each sub-world there are a number of units to collect (in the case of 64 and Galaxy, Power Stars), and a certain amount of units allows you access to more sub-worlds. Galaxy follows this, with a few twists.
As in 64, Galaxy has 15 real levels, except that instead of having 6 “episode” stars, it has 3 plus 2 comets and 1 or 2 secret stars. The real creativity, however, lies in the gravity concept of the game.
Having the game take place in space was a great call on the part of Nintendo. I’ll admit, I was originally worried that the game would be disappointingly disjointed. I feared that it would consist almost completely of “you’re on a small planet, solve a puzzle there, access a way to another small planet, repeat”. And for the first bit of the game it is like that. It was really a bad idea to put the Good Egg Galaxy first on the roster, if in the game at all, because it does not make a great first impression. Its successor, the Honeyhive Galaxy, however, does. Honyhive, like most of the levels in the game, consists of one massive planet which acts as a main terrain, around which many satellites orbit. This is a great blend of 64/Sunshine-esque exploration, with the added twist of planet to planet transport.
The question on everyone’s mind when Galaxy came out was whether the control interface was any good. After all, the whole Wii thing was a bit of a gamble on Nintendo’s part. Well believe me, Galaxy knows how to use and not abuse the Wii interface. The main move in the game is a simple shake of the WiiMote. In normal conditions this allows Mario to spin, attacking enemies and breaking obstacles. However, it also allows him to use transport stars and activate certain abilities of the various Mario upgrades. The Nunchuck acts as a simple joystick should, and the interface gets comfortable frighteningly quick.
Now you may be wondering what a comet is, but since you’ve all seen me play Galaxy, you’re probably not. I’ll explain anyway. Basically a comet star is one where you replay a star you’ve already beaten with a new challenge. The first type of these challenges is a speed run. Like the name suggests, you have to replay a previous star in a certain amount of time. While slightly worrisome, these comets never really gave me any trouble. In fact, they seemed to be a waste of a perfectly good one of my 120 stars to collect.
The second type of comet is a Cosmic Mario comet. Shadow Mario is back in this game, except this time he’s not Baby Bowser, he’s some natural phenomenon. This comet requires you to race Shadow Mario across a map Koopa the Quick/ Il Piantissimo style. Just as with the two aforementioned opponents, he’s not that difficult. There were maybe one or two Cosmic Mario races that we had to give more than two tries.
The third type of comet is the Daredevil. This is a bit more legit than the other comets. The Daredevil challenges you to replay a star, usually a boss, with only one bar of health. It’s true, you only get 3 in Galaxy, but for most bosses you are given an overshield which raises your health to 6. 6 to 1 is a big drop, believe me. And in case you’re slow, only having one life means you can’t ever get hit. Ever. Most Daredevil challenges are mercifully easy to devise a strategy for. Topmaniac in Battlerock, for example, is an easy kill once you figure out how to avoid his spinning blades and prevent his usually harmless minions from spinning you into the electric barrier. Any ease on some Daredevil challenges, however, is compensated for in others. The Koopa witch Kamella in the Deep Dark Galaxy is a prime example. Though we’ve faced her methods of combat several times by this point in the game, never have we had to deal with her in such a closed space. Beating her with 3 or 6 health, piece of cake. Not getting hit once? Good luck. On a side note, isn’t Kamella a Paper Mario character? What’s next, X-nauts is Super Mario Galaxy 2 (More on that later…)? Come to think of it, Galaxy’s plot is a lot like Paper Mario 1’s. A lot. Let’s see, what was the plot of PM1? Bowser pulls Peach’s castle up into space and Mario must follow them into space to save her. Yeah…real original, Nintendo. But where were we? Oh yes, Daredevil runs. Good luck on Bouldergeist, too. That one only took me an hour or so.
The last type of comet is the Fast Foe. This one only really happens with block enemies, and, as you may be able to guess, it involves your foes being must faster than usual. Like Cosmic Mario, these are initially daunting yet quickly overcome and generally disappointing. And then of course they’re Purple Comets, but I’ll get to those in a bit.
Anyone whose played Sunshine was a bit frightened by the prospect of Secret Stars in Galaxy. Of the mistakes Sunshine made, non-Mystery level secret stars were probably at the top of the list. If you’ll recall, one involved spraying a gold bird until it turned into a Shine, one involved spraying the sun for no apparent reason, and one involved spraying sand. It seemed like the creators of the game wanted to award you not so much for cleverness and exploration (as secret stars should be), but rather for doing random acts which made them feel you were getting use out of the FLUDD pack. Indeed, Sunshine seemed to specialize in throwing away Shines. Of the 120 in the game, 24 were gained by finding 240 blue coins scattered throughout, 4 were uncreative secret shines, and many were awarded for random cleaning around Delphino. Yet somehow Sunshine still managed to be an awesome game.
So how are Galaxy’s secret stars? Well, they’re involved, which is a good thing. You actually have to try to get them , and there are entire planets and complexes designed to house them. They are essentially their own episode stars, as they should be. Yet their fault is that they are too obvious. Too often are secret stars accessed by taking a different transport star off of a planet than usual or feeding a Hungry Luma, a creature who seems to scream “SECRET STAR!” whenever you see it. In this respect, Nintendo has taken secret stars from one extreme to the other, from impossibly random to glaringly obvious. Ideally, Secret Stars should be awarded for exploration. In Sunshine, a good Secret Shine in Noki Bay would have been one where you had to walk around the perimeter of the level, a place no one would expect to look, and find one of the water symbols on cliff wall. You would spray it and then access a chain aof mazes and puzzles leading to the Secret Shine. This is neither obvious nor is it the result of random experimentation, but rather exploration. That said, Galaxy has a few good secret stars among its many misses, including the cleverness of Gusty Garden and Dusty Dunes (Shifting Sand Land II).
The new Mario upgrades are also fairly questionable. Remember flying, metal head, and vanish cap Mario? Well, those upgrade ideas haven’t been lost on the writers. Just as there were FLUDD pack upgrades in Sunshine, so are there upgrades in Galaxy. But they’re really not all that great.
First, Fly Mario. I’m going to get this one out of the way immediately because it sucks. And do you know why it sucks? Because it’s so awesome. Yes, Mario can fly again, just as he once did in 64. This time his flying ability even comes with a badass black outfit and better controls. Gone are the days of not being able to gain altitude to save your life; now you can ascend, ascend, ascend to your heart’s content. One drawback is that you can’t pull off the sick dives you could in 64. You first use Fly Mario in the Gateway Galaxy to gather purple coins. This is the only time in the game it is necessary to use it, and the only other place you can use it is the Comet Observatory, where it does nothing. Way to not use a perfectly good upgrade. Lame.
Next, the Bee Suit. This is the first upgrade you use in the game, and arguably the best. The bee suit allows you to fly from place to place, and keeps being brought back throughout the game in creative ways.
Boo Mario: Almost as useless as Fly Mario, but less cool, so it’s not so much of a crime. They use it once or twice in the Ghostly Galaxy, where it seems okay. But then there is only one more necessary use of it in the game. Underused and pretty uncool.
Fire Mario. This one’s a throwback to classic Mario, with your spin move letting you throw fireballs to light torches and burn enemies. It’s fairly cool, but it’s also pretty much a one trick pony. Whatever, we’ll call it worth it for the nostalgic value.
Nostalgic value does not save the Rainbow Star, which has been brought back as Mario’s invincibility. Just like the Boo Mario, there is barely any use for it in the game, unless you want to kick ass, which, given, is always fulfilling.
Spring Mario is pretty cool though. It’s incorporated fairly well and often after it’s introduced, and bouncing around and launching yourself is pretty fun.
Ice Mario is probably the second best incorporated upgrade in the game, after the Bee Suit. Ice Mario has many beneficial qualities including the power to walk on (and even long jump between in some cases) water and lava. The creators were fairly good about bringing this one back again and again, and it’s pretty fun.
Alright, I must discuss the secrets of the game. If you have not gotten 120 stars, do not read the red text. Believe me, it’s not worth spoiling.

The 120 star reward in 64 was alright. Seeing Yoshi was pretty cool, and laughing at his poor rendering in comparison to Mario Kart 64 (released at the same time) was fun too. Plus we got that little pat on the back from Nintendo, which made us feel like less of a loser for spending all of our time on our couch instead of being productive…yeah.
Galaxy decided to step it up a notch. When you get all 120 stars, Rosalina (Your hot yet terribly annoying guide on this journey) asks you to go to the center of the universe again. Yes it’s true, you must fight Bowser and watch the ten minute video/credits again. Deal. After you go through this, you can play the game over as Luigi. And yes, I did, because I’m that cool.
Luigi doesn’t handle all that different from Mario. In fact, it’s pretty much the same game over again. Except this time you know all the tricks and can blaze through it a bit faster. Also, Luigi has an annoying habit of sliding about six feet after you stop moving the control stick. This makes Space Junk a bit more difficult. Cosmic Luigi races are also a bit more difficult than Cosmic Mario races.
After you beat the game with both bros, you open up the Grand Finale Galaxy. This part is a bit disappointing. You see, all you do there is grab 100 purple coins on your way to Peach’s castle. Then you talk to the mail toad and he sends a letter to your Wii which parallels the note at the end of 64 from the creators. In any case, the Grand Finale Galaxy is still cool because it gets you 121 stars, which just feels awesome.

I’ve been slowly coming to the sad realization that Super Mario 64 is not as awesome a game as I have thought for the last ten years. Frankly, it’s too easy. It’ll probably still be my favorite forever just because of the nostalgia, but Galaxy certainly has some innovation and difficulty on 64. Bottom line, buy/play this game at all costs, it’s great. It’s got a few setbacks and gimmicks, but overall it offers a new dimension which breathes new life into Mario. I just hope the rumors about Super Mario Galaxy 2 are true.

-OSK

Fun Fact: If you look at all of the letters highlighted by sparkles in "Super Mario Galaxy" on the game's front cover , they spell "U R MR GAY" Accident? Who knows?

DOUBLE COOKIE!

“Anyone who doesn’t believe in Faeries isn’t worth knowing.”

-T. Amos

Someone's Up on His High Horse, And It's Probably Me

2008-01-30T20:26:00.000-08:00

Sorry kids, time for some bitching.
I more or less enjoy a very comfortable position in my direct community- The position of “guy nobody dislikes”. This isn’t to say everyone is my friend, enjoys my company, or even likes talking to me, but there seems to be a clean division- Most people like me, and those who don’t like me have no opinion. I mostly believe that this is the case because I try to be cool to everyone. I try to maintain a mentality in which I assume you’re a good person until you prove me otherwise, and even then I try to just ignore you. But every once in a while I run across some real assholes, and I’d be lying if I said I didn’t become confrontational.
You see, I’m part of our Dramat Association’s Winter Musical, and it’s not exactly running like a finely tuned machine. It’s a tough show, and most of our actors are much too lazy to actually exert the energy necessary to make the show work. A few in key roles (and some not) have openly admitted to me that they don’t care at all about the fate of the show. Which is quite annoying for those of us who do care. This is largely the product of three factors: 1. We have a new director this year. While very good as a director and knowledgeable in theater, he has an interesting personality that sometimes comes off as a bit weird. 2. The show, quite honestly, isn’t all that great. Now, I’m not the best judge of musical theater quality, as I more or less hate the entire genre of musical theater. My main issue is that it lacks real plot and substance, and it consists of cartoon-esque stereotyped characters in a campy environment with sickeningly happy resolution. Generally I’m the one spouting this blasphemy as the rest of the cast and crew praise how great the show is, but this year the show is so cartoonish that everyone gets what I’m saying. Suprisingly, however, I’m one of the only advocates for respecting it and making it good. Go figure. 3. The set is bland. We have lots of new cast members who have never done a theater production, and I think they were hoping for a jazzier setup than what we have.
But the fact of the matter is that this show could be good, really good. The issue is that most of the guys can’t play a scene without making jokes and improvising, breaking character. Now I gotta tell you, people who goof off at inappropriate times (Yes, this is hypocritical), really bother me. But the people who really piss me off are those who blatantly do it for laughs from their peers. You know, hams, the people whose actions scream that they’re constantly begging for attention, and you seem to be the only one who sees them for what they truly are, as everyone else feeds them the attention they want. This need for attention is generally paired with them being a huge asshole/douchebag.
This type of person has plagued me for a long time. You see, the problem is that I don’t know what to do about them. In this case, they’re marring what could potentially be a great show because they think they’re above the whole production, and no one else will address the problem because they think the people are fucking hilarious. Well what’s not hilarious is our musical sucking because of a bunch of douchebags (Douchebags who I saw as respectable actors in the past) who are willing to bring everyone else down just because they don’t care.
I’m very mucha victim of primal instincts. While it usually comes off as horribly pathetic, we all know that I can succumb to anger when pushed (“stupid bitching dog”). I feel a calling to stand up for all decent people held back by douchebags; I feel like I should call these people out on who they are and what they’re doing in front of everyone, but that’s where instinct clashes with ethics. I guess all I can do is pray for this to go well. Unfortunately Jesus appears to be busy answering random ass questions online, though he’s quite good at it. But I mean really, that’s kind of a lame miracle.

Crap I gotta finish that Huck paper.

-OSK

You’d think if I had the equations I would’ve been able to do something.

PMAT PMAT, SAT SAT

2008-01-29T10:37:00.000-08:00

Alas, no Bio on the SATs.
Yes, I recently had the experience of taking the dreaded SATs for the first time. I’m not a total idiot, but I’m not ridiculously bright either, so to be honest I was a bit worried about the whole thing. What with this year and next year supposedly being the hardest years to get into college since the beginning of time, I like to imagine that somehow doing well on the SATs will deliver me into the college of my dreams (not that I have the slightest clue as to what that college is). The unfortunate (fortunate?) truth is that more and more colleges don’t even give a rat’s ass about the SATs, and they’ll likely be a small matter in the admissions process at a lot of schools.
The funny thing about the test was that it wasn’t actually that hard, compared to what I was expecting. I didn’t leave any problems blank save for a few at the end of the third math section (ridiculous), and one sentence completion with words I’m sure they invented. But I had no time to heave a sigh of relief at the test’s apparent ease (We’ll see how it really went soon), as I had to take a practice test the very next day.
You see, I’m enrolled in an SAT prep class because neither my parents nor I have real faith that I can kick serious butt on the test. The class itself is actually quite amusing; our instructor is definitely one of the weirdest guys I’ve met, though he’s only creepy sometimes. Constantly making references to drugs to account for student’s virus-caused sniffling, and even going as far as suggesting that one of our students probably wants to grow up to be a porn star (We think he was kidding, but we’re not sure), we students are left to wonder how he ever landed a job with teenagers. Just the other week, the class was going a little crazy, and he made an aside comment to a few of us, stating that the experience reminded him of an acid flashback. Yeah, might not want to spread that around.
Our newest scheme is to ask him to tell us is life story. I imagine it’s either thrilling interesting or terribly weird. Either way, intriguing. However, we won’t be able to do this for a while, as we don’t have class over long weekend (Thank God. No standardized testing is taking my mini dwarf of a vacation from me), and we had a practice test last time.
Oh right, the practice test. As I said, the day after we took the actual SAT we were forced to take a practice one. Two days in a row? Hell, believe me. I tried to get out of it, but the rents weren’t cool with me skipping, so I ended up spending another four hours in a grey(blue?)-scale bubble-graphed misery. Turns out I was only one of six people, as opposed to the 20 we usually have. Apparently two days in a row isn’t everyone’s cup of tea.
The practice test started out terribly. Essay first, but I guess that’s not so bad when you consider that you’re getting it out of the way. The topic was about whether it’s better to take action or gather knowledge, and I swear to God, I almost referenced Batman Begins. You know, the whole “actions define you” thing. I mean, after all, what does knowledge and opinion do for you and the world at large if you never do anything with it? Change comes from action, no passive thought. But what am I justifying my thesis to my reader(s?) for? You really don’t care. In any case, apparently a friend of mine actually made up a book and author to reference in his actual SAT essay. Ballsy, I’m intrigued to see how it plays out.
But what was really bad about the practice SAT was that I started out feeling sick. And I’m not talking about mildly uncomfortable sick, I’m talking about a lesser version of that night lying on Koops/J_V’s couch, burping my heart out. I never really got that burp thing, but it still happens, and I still hate it.
Eventually I got better, but I had absolutely no work ethic for the practice SAT right after the real one, especially since the practice turned out to be way harder. I guaranteee that I did 100s worse on the practice than I did on the real thing. Guess I can trust the prep company then; they sure do a thorough job of testing. Moral of the story: Never take the SATs two days in a row. Ever.

On an unrelated note, I’ve had another play idea. This one’s going on the backburner for now, as I’ve got a few projects to tackle before then, but I’m still intrigued by it. It takes place in a running shoe store, based off of the one us blogger runners frequent. There are four characters, all male. The first is the elderly (70s) store owner who is an experienced runner and who cannot run any longer because of his age. The next character is a sophomore in high school who starts out enthusiastic about running, and ends realizing that his running career is coming to an end, as he will not be good enough to run in college. The third is a college runner who is nearing the end of his career, as he is too occupied with family ties to continue after college. The fourth is a professional runner is his late 30s, who is coming to terms with the fact that his body is breaking down. The first scene features the teenager and the college student shopping for shoes, the second scene the college student and the professional, the third the teenager and the professional, and the fourth all three of them. The owner is present in all scenes. Each scene takes place one year after the last, and we slowly see as an audience the trio coming to terms with the end of their competitive running. Each older man represents to the younger ones what they could have been if they had been born stronger, had tried harder, and had been luckier. The one issue is that there’s not enough conflict. But maybe there doesn’t need to be.

-OldSchoolKlingon

Benjamin Disraeli lies.

Jumping The Shark (Journal Entry #3 of Pilot Power Master Steel Crush HeliCyrus RazorClaw Cerebros)

2008-01-24T20:14:00.001-08:00

Day five. The rations are completely spent; I’ve been out of food for a day and a half. I , Pilot Power Master Steel Crush HeliCyrus RazorClaw Cerebros, was careful with the water and have only been without water for a day. I should be able to go another 2 days or so before my dehydration kills me.
I, Pilot Power Master HeliCyrus RazorClaw Cerebros, have no way of telling how far I’ve come. Based on the time I’ve been moving (Constantly, save for 3 hours of sleep each night) I’d estimate I’m approaching 200 miles. The sun beats down on me now with a grueling ferocity…Wait a second, what sun? There’s no sun here. It sure as hell feels like it. It seems like the further I go, the hotter it gets. Sweat drenches my ridiculouslystrongtight muscles, and my need for water becomes even more tremendous. My pounding headache will not subside, and I, Pilot Power Master Steel Crush HeliCyrus RazorClaw Cerebros, fear that I may faint before I find help.
If there even is help. I, Pilot Power Master Steel Crush HeliCyrus RazorClaw Cerebros, have no reason to believe there is anyone else on this entire fucked up green world. And this certainly isn’t a quick way to move. Damn, I wish I had that helicopter.
I’ve heard tell of mirages on the deserts of foreign lands, so I, Pilot Power Master Steel Crush HeliCyrus RazorClaw Cerebros was suspicious when I saw a light in the distance. It was on the ground, maybe 6 miles away, barely peeking over the horizon. I, Pilot Power Master Steel Crush HeliCyrus RazorClaw Cerebros walked for a mile or two more before I realized that it was, in fact something. A massive light of some kind. The first sign of anything but green and black I had seen since I came here.
I couldn’t stop myself. The possibility of finding something (or someone?) is so magical, that I start running, ad I can’t stop for anything. My legs scream at me in agony, but I, Pilot Power Master Steel Crush HeliCyrus RazorClaw Cerebros, ignore them. My breath is raspy, desperate. My heart beats like a rabbit’s, and I realize that if this is not the answer, if this is not some sort of relief, I will likely collapse from exhaustion and possibly die in this hell.
Finally, as I feel like I cannot exert any longer, I, Pilot Power Master Steel Crush HeliCyrus RazorClaw Cerebros, reach it. It is a magnificent bonfire, easily 50 feet high, with meat strung up all around it. As I stop running, I realize with joy that my legs are still holding me upwards, and that I am still conscious, and that I have found some salvation.
A bullet rips into my side, and I, Pilot Power Master Steel Crush HeliCyrus RazorClaw Cerebros, taste blood as I collapse into darkness.

I, Pilot Power Master Steel Crush HeliCyrus RazorClaw Cerebros, awake to find myself completely bound and gagged. A hot pistol barrel is pushed hard against my temple, I lay in a prone position. I can’t see who’s holding it. Suddenly my gag is removed, and a coarse female voice spits acidic words at me.
“Who are you? What’s your story?”
I don’t particularly want to explain my life story and situation to this person, the person I assume shot and bound me. But then again, I don’t really have a choice. “Pilot Power Master Steel Crush HeliCyrus RazorClaw Cerebros.”
“The hell kinda name is that? Where you from?”
“I’m an England Wrestler Transformer.”
“England, huh? No way. Barely ever see a Brit around here.”
I have no idea what she is talking about, but I ignore it. “And you? Who are you?”
She spit into the fire, which was causing me to sweat like a dog. That was probably the result of this fiery climate. “Name’s Earhart. Amelia Earheart.” The name means nothing to me.
“What’s your story?” I ask, trying to keep her talking for fear that if I don’t, she’ll become bored with me and pull the trigger.
“Come from a place called Earth.” Earth. I was from Earth. “Made a fly at circumnavigating the whole damn planet, got a little lost somewhere around Bermuda, and flew myself right into this hellhole. After ending up on some planet where I met a Starfleet captain, I was summoned back here. Kept flying through here, and I was pretty good at it, too. Then after a while I run out of fuel, start droppin’ out of the...”She gestered upwards”…Sky, or whatever the hell it is. So I eject, and have a nice landingand the plane…” She gestures across the fire, where I assume the wrecked plane was. “…actually doesn’t turn out half bad. A few months of repair and I had it back on its feet. But I’ll tell you, these walls, this green shit, it really messes up some aircraft. I’ve seen some disgusting crash sites.”
“How long have you been here?”
“2 years or so. Met plenty of people over those two years.”
“There are more people here?”
“Every once in a while some lucky bastard like you or I walks away from a crash, but most of the time they’re might beat up.”
The idea that there are people here is astounding. But I still have one itching question. “What is this place?” It’s surreal, the way I’m having an almost casual conversation with a crazy nut who has a gun to my head, but I, Pilot Power Master Steel Crush HeliCyrus RazorClaw Cerebros, had no choice.
“No one quite knows.” She pulls the gun away from my temple and stands up, walking over to the fire and grabbing a large chunk of meat off of a skewer. I, Pilot Power Master Steel Crush heliCyrus RazorClaw Cerebros, don’t know what kind of meat it is, but my mouth waters at the sight of it.
I have a better view of her now. She is dressed in decrepit clothes, her face tired and dirty. She is middle-aged. She walks with a walking stick, because her right leg is in some giant makeshift cast.
She turns to face me, and takes a large bite of the meat. “Met a scientist gentleman once. He had some pretty neat theories about this place. Said it was in a different dimension, a conversion point of worlds where things got dumped every now and again.”
That sorta explained why she came from a different world than I. Sorta. I think. I’ll be honest, I don’t really know what she just said.
“I need a way out. In my world- There’s a war on. And they need me, Pilot Power Master Steel Crush HeliCyrus Razorclaw Cerebros. The RazorClaw Cerebros family ahs been prominent in every England Transformer rebel military success.”
“You need a way out?” She laughs. “Honey, we all need a way out. There aint no way out I know of, but this fellow, this scientist, he told me he thought maybe there was one.” She pauses for dramatic effect. I, Pilot Power Master Steel Crush HeliCyrus RazorClaw Cerebros, don’t appreciate it.
“How?” I finally ask.
“ You’ve noticed, you must’ve, that it gets hotter as you go further?” Yeah, I noticed, the heat is murderous. “Well, he said this green stuff, he thought it had a large metal composition. So eventually, it gets hot enough, the green gets hot, and could eventually melt. So maybe that’s the end.”
I’m filled with excitement. “I must get there. I must return to my people.”
“It’s not so easy, buddy. This scientist, he said before it gets hot enough to melt, the green turns red, somewhere around 10,000. And…the blocks move.”
“What?”
“I don’t really understand how he hypothesized this. But that’s what he saud.”
“What happened to him?” I had to talk to this man.
“Accident” she says shortly.
A beat. She finishes off the meat. Its blood frames her lips.
“Well, as much as I enjoy being bound, if you could let me go, I’d really appreciate it.”
She laughs a bit, then more, then uproariously. “Sorry, pal. You aint going nowhere.”
I, Pilot Power Master Steel Crush HeliCyrus RazorClaw Cerebros, was afraid of this. “What do you need me for?”
She smiles, and her bloody lips shine in the firelight. She points to the ample meat surrounding the flames.
Shit.
“It’s hard to survive out here buddy. How do you think I’ve made it for two years?”
Suddenly the fate of her scientist friend becomes abundantly clear to me.
“I’d like to get to know you, though” she says, “There’s not much company out here in the Green.”
I know she took my gun, I can no longer feel it at my side. But perhaps she missed my knife? Yep, there it is, in my pocket. I, Pilot Power Master Steel Crush HeliCyrus RazorClaw Cerebros, can barely reach it with my bound hand, but I manage to. I slowly free my right hand as she rambles madly.
She takes another piece of meat and begins eating it. She holds the gun at her side, but pays no attention to it anymore. When I have both hands free, I leap up and hop wuickly over to her. She raises the gun, but I, Pilot Power Master Steel Crush heliCyrus razorClaw Cerebros, slap it away and knock her down. I leap for the gun and get to it, turning it on her. “God damn it” she says in true despair.
“Well, I really must be off,” I tell her as I free my feet. “I’m taking half of your meat, and half of any water you have in that plane. And I’m taking the plane, too.”
I, Pilot Power Master Steel Crush HeliCyrus RazorClaw Cerebros, load the plane up with what I need in preparation to fly back to the helicopter. The copter has much better gas mileage and is heat resistant, so I must use it if I wish to continue. Earhart has ample fuel on the plane to get me a long way.
As I fly away, I bite into a piece of the meat, savoring the taste of food once again. The idea is disgusting, but the men are dead already, and if I do not eat them, I, Pilot Power Master Steel Crush HeliCyrus RazorClaw Cerebros, will be dead soon.
There is a way out.

-Pilot Power Master Steel Crush HeliCyrus RazorClaw Cerebros

It’s all around me, like a beautiful pink sky!

…But…It’s pink…

Album Review: ZOX: Line in the Sand

2008-01-23T20:05:00.000-08:00

I’ve decided to start writing reviews. As much as I am a supporter of judging things for yourself, I have a bit of an addiction to reading reviews of things I’m interested in. If I loved a movie, book, or album, I like to read what other people liked about it, and more interestingly, what they didn’t. If a new release has just come out and I have yet to see/buy it, I like to see if it’s worth the cash, even though I’ll probably buy it either way. Maybe it’s just because a professional critic is one of my many dream jobs (Getting paid to read books, watch movies, or play video games? Does life get better than that?), but I like to pretend like my opinion matters. So from now on I’ll have an occasional review of a new release I’ve been anticipating or happened to come across. Today’s subject matter is ZOX’s new album, “Line in the Sand.”
ZOX is a four-man group who emerged out of Providence, Rhode Island in 2002. I think my favorite description of their music is “violin-laced reggae rock”. Their sound is unique, to say the least. Although reggae rock seems to be on the rise in the past decade, few groups have been able to find as perfect a blend of one with the other as ZOX. They know when to head-bang, they know when to lilt like Marley, and their lyrics are catchy as hell. On top of it all, they’ve managed to incorporate the stylings of violinist Spencer Swain so integrally into their work that their form would likely fall apart without him. It’s this fusion of diverse genres: Rock with reggae with classical with the outpourings of a hapless romantic vocalist Eli Miller, which capture a diverse audience for the group.
Now, you all know how I generally feel about romantic music. It’s just a regurgitation of the same old crap that’s been sung for years and years, and because of that, ironically, there’s no heart in it (think Daughtry). But since I discovered ZOX they have been my sole provider of romantic tunes, for two reasons. The first is that there is a sincerity in their music which I believe is unrivaled in modern pop. If you’re not actually head over heels, you as a vocalist have to be a good actor to convey the feeling of your music, and “Line in the Sand” is a prime example of Miller’s acting ability. The second reason is that ZOX’s music, for the most part, is not a lyrical celebration. Without depressing, it is a fitting balance between lovesick and sick of love. The narrator is alone and with a partner at the same time, and he doesn’t quite know how to feel about it.
Now for the album. The opener, and also the album’s name sake, “Line in the Sand”, is a great way to kick off this performance. Generally I dislike when groups use song names as album names, as I believe there is barely ever a case where one song epitomizes the feel of an entire album. That said, the album opener seems to almost be written from the point of view of the band. Kicking it with a funky guitar part and a violin riff that sounds more like a synth than an orchestra instrument, it is a departure from past ZOX. I believe this is more rock and less reggae than we have ever heard on a ZOX album before, and I love it. The chorus chants “This is how I feel/This is where I stand/This is what I can do/ And this is who I am/Now I see my face/Like it was the first time/I don’t know what’s changed/But now it feels like mine”, pointing out how the group’s identity has changed, and you better get used to it. Great song, definite album highlight.
The funk/rock continues into “When the Rain Comes Down Again”. The lyrics are fairly run-of-the-mill ZOX, and very catchy. There’s a bit more of a showcasing of the violin in this one than in the opener, which reminds us of the ZOX we’ve always known and loved. Eventually the song degenerates into a big guitar-violin jam, and we start to hope the rock continues.
Which it doesn’t for a bit. Next up is the album’s first single, “Goodnight”. This, along with “Line in the Sand” and “7th Avenue Prophet” was a song I heard on the band’s myspace prior to getting the album. At that time, I really expected “Goodnight” to be the album closer. It seems to be in the same vein as “Eventually”; sweet and lilting, but still catchy. It probably would’ve made a better closer than “Lucky Sometimes”, but it seems to really flow here as well. Besides, I don’t know where else “Lucky” could go otherwise.
“7th Avenue Prophet” starts off, as Bhuddalicious pointed out to me, with a bit of a Postal Service feel to it. This song is where I began to suspect that the album had a political agenda. By “political agenda” I of course mean the only political agenda in music these days (Save for some SR themes), which is anti-Iraq War propoganda. The song starts “A pair of dog tags you call sympathy/Hung like a cross around your neck/On tired streets you sermon tirelessly”. Okay, so their idea of anti-Iraq War propoganda is talking about anti-Iraq War propoganda? Not too creative, but effective nonetheless. The verses here are a bit flat, but the chorus is everything we come to expect from ZOX. Despite the repetition of the horridly sappy line “You can’t keep on running forever/Love is the only forever”, I can still accept this into the band’s catalogue.
The first time I heard “Toward Los Angeles”, I was a bit confused. The chorus sounds more commercial pop than we’ve ever heard ZOX before. But if there’s one thing this album has taught me, it’s that pop is not a bad genre by necessity. It’s just one that’s been corrupted by the popular music of the day.
With a title like “I Miss You”, I really expected the next song on the album to be an overly sappy piece of crap. You can imagine my delight, then, when it kicked in with an upbeat, rockish verse. The song through and through is just fun, but the chorus is really the highlight of the piece. Continuing “Towards Los Angeles”’s commercial pop sound, the chorus is a heartfelt anthem I’ve had stuck in my head for four days now.
I almost feel like this review is unjustified, I mean, all I’m doing is praising this album. Well, I guess I do have something bad to say about the next song, “Another Attack”. Musically, it’s very good, although a bit off the beaten path for ZOX. Frankly, it’s a bit trippy, incorporating flittering guitar riffs and high-pitch background singing. It’s no big shock that this is the work of another artists, bassist Dan Edinburg, as it sounds so different from Miller’s conventional work. The first time I heard the song, my first thought was Michael Jackson. Fortunately this energetic intro eventually finds a place in ZOX’s heartfelt hapless romanticism, but this is also the song’s major flaw. Continuing the trend of “7th Avenue Prophet”, this song seems to be a direct address of the current world situation. But instead of delving into specifics like the political groups I so idolize, “Another Attack” is lyrically an awkward middle ground between hapless romanticism and an attempt to be politically relevant. A verse goes “Another attack/There was that bombing yesterday/Happened somewhere far away/ Am I fit to complain?/Lovers come and go/But I can’t explain/Why there’s so much pain/All around the world/She’s just another girl/And I survive/Should I be satisfied?” Well-intentioned as they may be, it almost feels like Zox don’t actually know what they’re talking about when it comes to politics.
Next up, “The Wait (Part II)”. It’s pretty weird to make a song which is the sequel to an album, but it’s something I could see myself doing, so I’m not put off by it. The song itself is a solo effort by Miller, who sings a lilting acoustic ballad without the backing of his band. His only accompaniement is a fleeting female background singer who adds a fitting tone of remorse to the song. As far as the subject matter goes, I believe it is about someone waiting for a lover to return from war. I would not believe this if so much of the album weren’t political, but given that it is and that the song is a tale of waiting for someone to return, I can only assume. A nice break from the rampant rock on the album.
I’ve always had a problem with parenthetical titles, so there’s my main issue with “The Same (Doesn’t Feel the Same)”. This may seem hypocritical of me to say after I’ve criticized their political content, but this and “Don’t Believe in Love” seem to not have the sincerity and heart in them that most ZOX songs have. “The Same” is a good rock with uncreative lyrics, and it eventually breaks down into an intriguing guitar-violin duel which is almost analogous to a break dance battle. “Don’t Believe in Love” is a bit more moving, but it lacks the violin kick we come to expect from ZOX.
The closer, “Lucky Sometimes”, is easily my least favorite of the three ZOX album closers. It too lacks a strong violin line, their claim to fame. Really, it’s got good instrumentals, but they start out a bit too sunny for me, reminding me of the disappointment which was “Exile On Mainstream”. This song takes a direct approach to Iraq, even mention the “War Machine”, a term I thought I would never hear in music outside of State Radio. Though I believe “Goodnight” would have been a better closer, this song does fade out very well, and leaves the listener quite satisfied.
This is a very good album. I recommend you look into it even if you’ve never heard ZOX before, as their combinations of genres makes it so that everyone has something to enjoy. While it is disappointingly short, this only means that every song on the album is a wholehearted effort from the band, and it shows. I look forward to buying ZOX albums for many years to come.

-OSK

Nutella rocks my socks, and well…you know.

What's In A Ham Sandwich?

2008-01-21T20:01:00.000-08:00

So I copied this from a word document, into my email, and then into blogger, so I have all those funky A's where apostrophes should be. Deal, I don't feel like cleaning it up.

Writing has always been a huge enthusiasm of mine, if not a talent. The conceptual process of developing ideas is a lot of fun to me, but I have a ton of trouble actually conveying those ideas on paper. I‚Äôm pretty sure one of my main flaws in executing plots is that I come up with several events which should happen over the course of the book/play/movie/story, but don‚Äôt necessarily know how to flow from one event to another. Put simply, I‚Äôm not a linear thinker, as I am in so many other situations.

The basic transformation which must occur in all of my plots is a character transformation, usually some sort of epiphany or drastic action. The trick is revealing this transformation to the audience as it unfolds, instead of springing it upon them at the end, in which context it actually makes little sense. But alas, I keep trying.

I was recently asked by a friend to write a short story for the school paper. I agreed hastily, not really conscious of what responsibility I had just taken on. It‚Äôs true, our school paper doesn‚Äôt exactly have high expectations, nor does its audience. But many people in the school community know that I write, and I felt a pressure not to disappoint. My other issue was that the story had to be about 2 pages long, and none of the plots I have ever hatched have been nearly simple enough to condense that much. So I had to start with a fresh, simple idea.

What I came up with was this: A man is getting ready to go to his friend‚Äôs wedding as a best man. The best man (the main character) is very well off in life, and very happy with his life. As he s getting ready to leave for this wedding, someone knocks on his door. This man, whom he initially thinks is a solicitor, is just a man searching for company. The ‚Äúsolicitor‚Äù will not leave the man alone and will not let him leave for the wedding, asking him to have lunch with him so they may get to know one another. The main character resists and resists until finally he gives in and has lunch with him, to find that he is actually a very interesting and enjoyable person.

I know that the plot sounds like it sucks. But it‚Äôs not a simple story of a man being annoyed by another man. As much as I hate messages, it is about someone finding it a rewarding experience to put all of their wants and needs aside and enjoy another person‚Äôs company.

This entire thing has made me think a bit about my writing style. This two page story is a simple tale of getting from point A to point B, not wanting to have lunch to having lunch. And it was pretty damn hard for me to get between the points, because I have trouble leading up to the eventual payoff. But I‚Äôve come to think- Maybe I shouldn‚Äôt compare my writing style to the norm (Fuck it, right?), because I‚Äôm not the norm. I don‚Äôt have the skill of dropping subtlety, but hopefully my enthusiasm can still carry me. Not subtle, but zany. Because my characters are weird, and they don‚Äôt come to realizations about things by mulling things over, they come to realizations by being forced into humorously surreal situations. Desmond and Lucy don‚Äôt have a heartfelt talk where they pour out their life stories and insecurities, they literally attack each other because they‚Äôre aggressive. And the truth comes out during their umbrella/cane sword fight, which isn‚Äôt a zany tip-of-the-hat to the comedy world, it‚Äôs a surreal drift into a place where characters don‚Äôt even know themselves, and fight like hell to protect their phony backstories.

I think that I write what I know. And I‚Äôm an Isolationist, so my characters inevitably find themselves away from the real world. People in the real world reason and rationalize to bring about change within themselves, but my characters are thrown into surreal environments in which nothing is concrete.
So are my characters real? No. Are they allogrical for my isolationist confusion?

Maybe?

-OSK

One year from today, providing I am alive and physically able to do so, I will make a post which has this very same fortune cookie. I swear to you.

Terminator: Bad Judgement Day

2008-01-14T18:04:00.000-08:00

This "Bad Judgement" being the continuation of the Terminator universe after Terminator 2. You see, the key to a good sequel is to continue the story of the previous movie, not rehash it. T2 did this. It had the new addition of the John Connor character as a regular, and the interesting twist of Schwarzennager protecting what he used to want to destroy. As if this weren't enough, the movie then went on to explain how the events of Terminator 1 had created the machine uprising which the series was based off. Kudos to the writers for using time travel uber-cooly, as it was meant to be used.
T3 however, was a piece of crap. I mean, who thought that redoing the exact same plot of T2 was a good idea? Despite what Hollywood may think, the incorporation of a hot female Terminator is not enough to make us think that that turd of a movie was actually good, though she was appreciated. And of course the worst part of T3 was that they ended up negating the entire message and achievement of T2. It wasn't bad enough to make a terrible sequel to a great movie, no, they also had to go back and ruin part of what made that great movie great.
And they still haven't given up. Now we have two new Terminator projects- the tv series (which appears to take place between T2 and [cringe]T3) and a fourth movie in the works. I'm watching the series right now, and thus far I'm pretty disappointed. First off, Sarah Connor is completely not her badass T2 self. She appears to ahve reverted to her sissy T1 days. Unrealistic and dissapointing. Then we'ev got Summer Glau (River from Firefly/Serenity) as the new protecting Terminator. River was always my least favorite Firefly character, but I blamed Whedon more for that than I did Glau. Whedon obviously had a great ability to flesh out the other characters in the show, but copped out by hoping that making River 'that crazy girl' would be character enough. And the sad thing is, most people thought it was, taking her ambiguous character for a deep and complex one, when in many ways she was a flat (and often annoying) character. But despite this, I had hope that Glau may actually be a good actress, and while I haven't been proven wrong, I sure haven't been proven right yet either. Among the other roles I've seen her in since Serenity were a similar crazy girl in a SciFi Original movie (career low point?), and now a Terminator? Can she play a human and show human emotions? The world may never know if she keeps being typecast as mysterious, crazy, and inhuman. And by the way, it's really weird to see her with so much makeup on. I prefer her without it. And one more complaint- How can all this crap happen between T2 and T3 and not get mentioned in T3 at all?
As far as this fourth movie goes, I'm not really sure what to think. What with it being T4, I assume it takes place after T3, and that sounds even more terrible. I mean, T3 was already excessive, and all a sequel could do would be to spell out what was already explained in the previous movies. It's be like BSG Razor; stuff we were told in stories doesn't need to be spelled out for us again, though Razor did have a good ending. The world (by which i mean Terminator fans) seem to be psyched about Christian Bale possibly starring in the movie, but that doesn't say anything about the plot. It'll likely just turn into one big action sequence with shreds of a plot here and there, and unlike in Mario (damnit!), that's not what I like to see in movies.
For the record, I'm not actually that big of a Terminator fan, but to me this milking of a franchise is a representation of how Hollywood kills decent stories (See "The X-Files" and arguably "SG-1", though I don't think so). Really I just don't want to do my homework and figured I'd blog about what I was watching on tv. If my music slut tendencies are any indicator, I'll be drooling over this show in a week.

-OSK

Waitwaitwait...The last supper? And Six is Jesus? And Baltar is Mary Magdalene?

Becoming the DeK

2008-01-12T20:46:00.001-08:00

Generally I don’t like to talk about myself on this blog. Sure, I talk about my video games (Damnit!) and my music, and other assorted interests, but I don’t really like to let you readers get inside my head. This is honestly because I don’t know what the hell is going on up there. For the most part I think excuses like that are just things people say because they don’t want to open up, but I honestly don’t know sometimes. I think I’m coming closer and closer to becoming the DeK and not expressing or addressing my emotions at all.
But tonight got me to thinking. I was placed in the rare (and exciting) situation of having to interact with a mass of people I had never met. This allowed me to partake in one of my favorite activities- Striking up conversation with random people in search of enjoyable company. And I’m not even talking about goofing around just because no one will ever see me again. Although that’s always fun. I was toying with the idea of going by a different name for a while.
Unbeknownst to most people who see me as just goofy (and zany), I actually enjoy being polite and normal with people I meet, without compromising my somewhat insulting, edgy sense of humor. My attempts to find companionship were very successful. Initially, I found myself in a group of four, the other three of whom knew each other, but like me knew no one else at the event. Our alienation was a good reason to stick together, and they were really cool people.
After drifting from that group, I found myself chatting with a guy I had run cross country with, and we talked courses, placements, and best times for a good 20 minutes. I really think XC is a universal language; there seem to be runners wherever you go. We were soon joined by his friend, who proceeded to tell me every hilarious story of kids getting kicked out of their school that he possibly could. The stories in and of themselves were great, but the kid's Italian style of storytelling (hands wildly depicting everything that happens) made them even more funny. Apparently back in the 50s some guys changed the environmental controls in their dorm to create an environment perfect for marijuana production, and an entire floor of their dorm was dedicated to it. Only after receiving heinous heating and electrical bills did the faculty realize what was going on. Another story involved two boarding students creating an elaborate plan to sneak off campus (walking over 40 miles), board a plane, and fly to Vegas to be married. They were stopped mere miles from campus when a faculty member spotted them on the side of the road as he drove to work.
The remainder of the night involved failing on the dance floor with these two bozos, their girlfriend, and another female friend of theirs who kept me from fifth-wheeling. Luckily for me, all the guys were bad at dancing so I wasn’t failing miserably alone, as is so often the case. All of these were cool people, and I was bummed that I didn’t have more time to talk to them before I had to go.
I guess the realization I’ve come to tonight is that it sucks that we don’t really have enough time in life to get to know and hang out with people we usually wouldn’t. So much of our lives are confined to one school, one sport, one job, one friend group, that there must be legions (Yes, legions) of awesome people we would really have great connections to who we’ll never meet or we’ll meet and never see again. Life is so short and confined that you would need to be leading multiple lives at once to enjoy the company of all of the people you’d be great friends with.
One of my main points in “Perception” (My original Isolation post) was that when people like me meet new people, they are often intoxicated by them and don’t see their flaws. And I get that. I’m sure the people I met tonight have plenty of flaws, and maybe I wouldn’t actually want to be their friend if I knew what they were truly like. But it’s really not about them specifically. It’s about all of the awesome friendships you could have that you just don’t. Don’t get me wrong, I love my friends, but you’ve got to wonder what things would be like if you were in a different situation. If nothing else, it’s intriguing.
On another note, I’m going to stop getting on my one case about not being proactive with girls. I often think I’m too picky or too cautious, but I met a lot of cool girls tonight who made me think that maybe my immediate pool of choices just isn’t my cup of tea. Most of these girls were taken, though, so don’t get on my case about not being proactive.
So ends this rare glance into the Klingon’s personal thoughts. I’m sure I’ll regret talking about myself on here soon, but if I never talked about myself, what would I ever have to laugh at as I reread these posts in a couple years?

Wow, I actually stayed on one topic for an entire post. Wow.

-OSK

Cinema, simulated life, ill drama
Fourth Reich culture, Americana
Chained to the dream they got ya searching for
The thin line between entertainment and war

Just stare
Just stare
Just stare
Just stare
And live the nightmare

Of Legions and Legends

2008-01-11T19:36:00.000-08:00

The silence of the blogosphere (at least our corner of it) saddens me. Of course, it’s as much my fault as anyone else’s. I’ve suddenly found that I’m actually quite busy all week. It’s surreal. In any case, maybe I can jumpstart the blog cycle again. Or maybe you guys don’t care at all. Whatever, we’ve already established that I like the sound of my own typing.
This is really BFTSOB, but I’m so sick of doing sequel-posts (you may have noticed it was an obsession of mine for a time) that I refuse to classify it as the inevitable BFTSOB III.
For those of you wondering about the fate of Galaxy (That being you, Juicy, as all other bloggers who read this were involved. Of course, there’s also my legions [yes, legions] of readers who are obsessed with “Breakfast With Friends” but don’t let their presence be known. I know it’s true, I know it…), there sadly was not enough time to finish it. In fact, we made it through just over half of it. Now, the quest continues with Koops and I (by permission of J_V) in our scarce and cherished free time. Needless to say, the gaming has become too few and far between to constitute any more Galaxy live blogging. Unless of course we’re still going at it come summer, but I hope that’s not the case. It’s time for BWF to kiss Galaxy live-blogging goodbye. Perhaps one day when we all beat it you’ll all finally get “All 360 of Which Are American Dreams.” Don’t hold your breath.
So apparently I’ve been recruited by the school newspaper to write a short story. I’ve received many a fond comment (having not even begun it yet) from editors saying they’re sure I’ll surprise and not dissapoint. Since when am I hyped? The question in my mind right now is how can I possibly unleash one of my signature overly bizarre, burdensomely complex, and yes, zany plots in a short story format (only 2 pages?). This is sure to be chaotic.
On the topic of my artistic outlets (I don’t even want to talk about Rash right now. Updates on that to come), I’ve decided to pursue a goal which combines two of my passions, music and “The Legend of Zelda”.
Damnit, I told myself I would stop blogging about video games! Oh well, this is relevant.
Recruiting my fellow blogger, musician, and gamer Koops, I have decided to attempt to compose a song with him based completely on the songs from “The Legend of Zelda” video games. Uber-cool, I know. I came to this ambition after watching many youtube videos of gamers playing Zelda songs, mostly on guitars. The songs we plan to incorporate are as follows-

Overworld Theme- http://youtube.com/watch?v=sUVsGLES5K8&feature=related
Song of Storms- http://youtube.com/watch?v=N8pI42EIfio
Gerudo Valley- http://youtube.com/watch?v=1rfGbB0zqz8

Yes, I am aware that all of those videos are the same guy. He’s the best I’ve seen. Despite what the videos suggest, the song will not be completely guitar. In fact, I’m hoping barely any of the songs will appear in the composition exactly as they appear in the games. It’ll be more Legend of Zelda Remixed. As far as lyrical content goes, I don’I plan on singing about Zelda. That sort of thing trivializes your music and makes you a stupid parody band for the likes of Youtube. And youtube is a bit too high of an ambition in reality. In the spirit of Linkin Park’s “What I’ve Done” (Emo LP lyrics over a ripped keyboard riff from the Halloween movies), I plan on taking Zelda instrumentals and putting totally unrelated lyrics over it. So what to sing about? Well, I dwelled on the idea of a political message for a while. After all, political music is pretty much my favorite kind. But I soon came to realize that I don’t have nearly enough of a radical political conviction to say anything meaningful. Somehow I don’t think an “I Have No Idea Who the Fuck to Vote For If I Could Vote” song would be very good at all. Throwing away that idea, we come back to my recurring theme of isolation. My inspiration in this case is Audioslave. Despite my frequent rants about love songs, I do have some “regurgitated love shit” indulgences. While the likes of Train (and Matchbox, to a degree) have lost their appeal to me, ZOX and Audioslave are mostly love songs, and I love them. In the case of ZOX this is likely due to my nostalgic memories of listening to ZOX, alongside with Spencer Swain’s sick use of the violin on the rock scene. My commitment to Audioslave, however, is a bit different. While their albums are worth buying simply for Tom Morello’s guitar work, I also enjoy what Chis Cornell (vocalst) has to bring. This is because his lyrics often revolve around the idea of isolation. In “Out of Exile” he seems to sing from the point of view of Odyssius, venturing on an island far away and slowly losing his mind. In “Gasoline”, Cornell is a man under house arrest who can’t stand the isolation and ends up killing himself by dumping gas all over and burning the mother down. Isolation driving people to their limits? Sounds like my cup of tea.
So I’ve decided to take a page out of Audioslave’s book and chronicle a journey of isolation. This journey is that of Rowland the gunslinger, main character of Stephen King’s “The Dark Tower”. In the first book of the series, Rowland is chasing a man he has never met across a vast desert, all alone, and he continues on this journey throughout the book. I’ve always wondered how he coped with the isolation like he did, and I’ve decided I should figure it out in lyrics. You may be able to tell by my elaboration that I’m stoked for this project, this project I don’t have enough time to even start for an age.
Speaking of Youtube, it’s users have caused me to have a bit of an identity crisis. When I was looking for a Rage video, I discovered videos posted by more than one user with “Nintendo” in their handle. When searching for those Zelda videos a few minutes ago, I came across a Zelda video posted by a user whose avatar was a shot from monkey island. Once when I was on a Stargate board I discovered that several other users in this small community were runners.
I always thought that the interests of myself and a few friends was strange and rare- That my interests were so vastly disconnected that it was weird that even I liked them all. But after occurrences such as those just mentioned (they are only a few examples), I’ve come to wonder. Are there armies of teenage Star Trek-watching, State Radio-listening, Monkey Island-Playing, running, acting writers out there? Are all of those interests somehow in the same vein? And what is that abstract (or possibly obvious) connection that I fail to see?
I can only suspect that these existing clones of me are one and the same as the legions of shy, hidden readers I have (Chetro?). So to all you hiding, you rock, because you have good taste. Tell me your blog URLs so I can have more to read. And if you don’t have blogs, get blogs. You rock. But you also suck, because I don’t feel unique anymore. You suck. Except for Chetro, you’re the man.

Great, now I’ve got imaginary friends.

-OSK

“Who the fuck am I?”

-Cenron Henderson

Spheres of Gravitational Influence

2008-01-02T23:20:00.000-08:00

I'm endlessly amused by how Shigero and co. pay so much attention to keeping the rules of gravity correct on certain planets, and then they create completely bogus gravity-defying mechanics to feed their own fancy. I mean, I still don't quite get how hitting an arrow in a different direction can cause the gravity to shift in that respect. Or how Bowser has the power to throw himself and Mario from his throne area onto the giant orb of doom. Or how Mario can never fall off of the space station, and also can't wak on the bottom of it. And I have a few gravitational queries about Rosalina, but we'll not go there.
Ah, the speed run. This time it's Sandblast; could be challenging. There's one part where there's a snake-like planet comprised almost completely of non-deadly quicksand circulating in a rapid current. As you travel down this 3D river (I guess all rivers are 3D, but this one makes more use of the 3rd dimension. Think of it sort of like how Mario Sunshine is a 4D game). This river itself is perplexing; Bowser must have worked his ridiculously jumping-the-shark superpowers on it. I mean, why is there a constant circular flow of sand? If the planet itself is the gravitational body around which the sand orbits, then shouldn't all of the sand be moving (or at least oriented) towards a point central to the snake? Is this mass of earth so incredibly not dense that the sand just flies around it erratically? But there is an order. Besides, how would Mario be able to maintain aposition on the planet? Screw it, let's balme it n Bowser Voodoo.
Speaking of Bowser, isn't Nintendo giving him a little too much credit with this game? Back in the days of Paper Mario 2 (Not so long ago) he was just a pathetic side-criminal who had to resort to fighting Mario in a bxing ring to maintain his pride because someone else had kidnapped Peach. Then in Sunshine, he resorted to pathetic tactics of pollution. This was most likely the result of Global Warming Activist Propoganda (Also known as them funding Nintendo), but it still didn't make him look that great. I mean, we fought him in a fucking bath tub. But somehow, he's managed to pull out space travel (Paper Mario 1 ripoff), weapons of mass mushroom destruction, and gravity-defying powers. Seriously man (dino?), who died and made you God? Honestly though, if I were Peach, I'd probably marry Bowser already. Apparently there's no such thing as a restraining order. She's already seen that no matter what she does, she's going to end up a captive of Bowser again and again. And personally, I'd take KIng of everything evil (and therefore most good things too) over a portly plumber.

Of course, I'm just saying this for want of Rosalina. Seriously Peach, beat it.

-OSK

What the eff is this kid doing? I just said "What the eff is this kid doing?"

Wall Kicks Will Work...Sometimes

2008-01-02T21:37:00.000-08:00

This one goes out to Chad. I'm sorry I haven't beat Galaxy as fast as you, but you are kind of a beast, and I'm trying. And by the way, don't be afraid to friend me.

So the desert level is really awesome. I don't get how desert and flying saucers quite go together, but if Shigero Miyamummumummuna says they do, they sure as hell do. Unfortunately this "Shifting Sand Land 2" has deadly quicksand pretty muvh everywhere, so progress is slow sometimes. But then again, this game would be no fun if it weren't hard. It's not yet impossible, but from what I hear from TTBM, it's going to get there, though he apparently ahs faith in me.
We've recently discovered the upgrade which is the transformation into Fire Mario. When Fire Mario, you can throw fireballs by shaking your WiiMote, thus destrying some enemies that you previously could not. This is really cool simply because it is a throwback to the original NES Mario games, in which if you obtained two upgrades you would become Fire Mario, and be able to throw fireballs at enemies. Instead of being just a clever, gimmicky throwback, it is also extremely cool in Galaxy, where you can, for the first time, use the fireball in a 3D scenario. This allows for puzzles involving lighting torches, and presumably burning things eventually. One criticism of Galaxy I saw in a review was that the lighting of the torches was a bit too Zelda. It went on to suggest that Galaxy's drastic departure from the structure of its predecessors had possibly taken Mario too far from his roots. But honestly, these games needed a big change. I'm not sure you could do a Galaxy-structure game again, but it's a refreshing change this once.
Luigi continues to dissapoint, with yet another obvious hiding place. I've really always liked Luigi, and I've been continuously dissapointed as Nintendo has repeatedly portrayed him as a total loser. From making him a psycho in original Super Smash Bros., to then not bringing him back as a regular character in Melee, to making Luigi's Mansion so embarassingly bad, to Galaxy, he's repeatedly been a bummer. Apparently there are also rumors that there will be a Luigi's Mansion 2 for Wii. Not even just another Luigi adventure, but another Luigis' Mansion. If this is true, then that means Luigi (in his girly terror) and his weak vacuum cleaner will be back to once again suck. Great. Pretty soon Luigi will become the most hated Mario character, maybe even passing the likes of Wario and Waluigi.
This gravity thing is awesome. I mean, we actually ave the ability to kick a coconut from one planet to another so that we can use it as ammo against an enemy. OH, and then there's the building in the center of the desert. Basically, you begin at the top of it, and running (upside-down relative to the gamer) you have to move out of the building (through various floors) as the building floods with sand, threatening suffocation. Awesome.
So I'm a little frustrated at my own dormant talent. You see, the Boldergeist terror which we encountered last night was a scarring expereince that, between J_V and I, probably took up two hours, It seemed impossible. However, this morning I awoke and decided to retry it, having somehow enjoyed it despite what should ahve been a traumatizing exerience. In 6 attempts, I defeated him (on daredevil, of course) 3 times. Why couldn't I pull that shit last night? Then I went back to the galaxy with teh star ball and dominated it in one try. Seriously, uncool. I still suck at Manta Racing though.

-OSK

1/17/1973

Disproportionally Large Hands

2008-01-01T20:25:00.000-08:00

I really don’t understand how Bowser makes friends with so many bosses. I mean, a giant evil mole? Did Bowser really

“FUCK ME SIDEWAYS”

Sorry about that. Anyways, did Bowser kidnap this mole’s cake-offering girlfriend and tell him to guard the star with his life? Or perhaps he uses his gravity-changing powers to brainwash them. Yeah, that makes sense.
The question has been raised as to if Peach and Bowser really ever did it. If so, it would give whole new meaning to the Goomba Guy saying “Giant dinosaur dick” as an exclamation of rage (probably at a Goomba). Also, how did Bowser get to command his Koopa army? He’s so stupid and such a dick that I doubt anyone would actually support his rise to power. Unless of course he is the heir to the throne (the king’s dog inherits the crown?) Or perhaps he won the hearts of the people through military victories. I mean, he does have the smarts to work out a plan which nearly destroys Mushroom Kingdom and kidnaps the princess by pulling her castle into space. But for being that smart, he can’t seem to figure out not to pound on the lava orb platform even after he’s been hurt twice.
The idea has also been brought up to try to use a different villain than Bowser in a Mario game. Our suspicions are yet to be confirmed or denied that Wizpig is the true Galaxy villain, but thus far Bowser has gotten to do all the fun stuff. Being a strong advocate that Nintendo should make two Mario adventures for the Wii (the first time since the SNES), and I think it could be cool to include a different villain in Galaxy’s sequel, as is the pattern with Zelda (based solely on the example of Majora’s).
The question then, is who the villain would be. The Big Boo was done in Luigi’s Mansion (I want another Luigi game too, by the way, just way better than Mansion). King Bob-omb, maybe? Boldergeist? No. Get back to you on that.
By the way, Boldergeist daredevil is apparently a bitch. Hopefully it’s my turn soon. I have faith.

-OSK

Guns don’t kill Koopas, Mario kills Koopas.

Third World War, Third Round

2008-01-01T15:04:00.000-08:00

Luigi's reaction to hearing he's being included in a Mario adventure.
I thought the return (again) of the Gooper Blooper would be the biggest Mario shock I would ever have, and quite honestly, it was. But this comes close too. You see, the past two Mario games (64 and Sunshine) revolved around getting Stars and Shine Sprites. Stars are back in this game, but apparently with a twist. As we entered a single-star (supposedly) Galaxy last night, we encountered a green star. Yeah, I know. First of all, it’s enough of a shock that there’s a secret star in a one-star Galaxy. Next, it’s a shock that there’s such a thing as an all-natural star. Apparently there are two more of these in the game which you can collect. To what end, I’m not quite sure.
On the topic of green things, we’ve just saved Luigi. I’m curious as to what function he serves in the game; rumors that he becomes a playable character have been rampant for a long while. It appears he will hint at hidden stars that you missed in previous worlds, pretty cool. I like that you actually get some kind of tip as to where (or at least on what episode) you can find hidden stars, as opposed to just spraying those stupid golden birds. Way to go Nintendo, give into the pressure of the fans and put Luigi in a Mario game.

-OSK

Meat in the sky

Unfortunates

2008-01-01T01:06:00.000-08:00

Right now I am in such a marathoning groove. I want this marathon to go on for hours more. Unfortunately, I have driving lesson on Wednesday, and being the responsible (haha) guy I am, I’m making sure I get my sleep. Axtually, we’re getting more playing hours this way, but they’re more spaced out. Bummer.

-OSK

Really solid blogging night…haha.

30 Stars Seems Like A Bigger Landmark Than 2008 Years

2007-12-31T23:41:00.000-08:00

Secret stars? No such thing! Or so I wish. Truth is, they’re really hard. And once again, we’ve avoided them, and are now riding around in a bubble to get pieces of a transport star. Koops has two pieces to go. Died two times now, I’m not looking forward to this. We three are the only ones left here now; apparently watching us play Galaxy isn’t the most thrilling thing ever. Oh great, Koops just used the transport star and there’s another bubble to get through. J_V and I are going to have a lot of fun with this.
Okay, J_V’s turn.

It being 1:30 AM of January 1, 2008, I feel the need to address yet another fallacy- New Years. As we three gamers were surrounded by New Years enthusiasts tonight, I became quite confused. Never have I felt that the dropping of some ball in New York represents nor brings me to discover any great change in my life. I don’t need Lifehosue to sing about Dick Clarke to be able to reflect on my life. And maybe I don’t want to. But all of our guests seemed obsessed with the event.
New Year’s is one of those packaged holidays like Valentine’s Day and Christmas. They’ve become so much the product of the capitalist system (ratings for tv, showcasing celebrity performances) when really there’s not that much to celebrate. Could it be that people have the need to feel that they’ve changed and progressed and that they have an opportunity to resolve for the better?
In any case, this game is being awesome.

-OSK

Look at us, we’re making a statement
Look at us, we’re making a statement
Look at us, we’re making a statement
Look at us, we’re making a statement
Look at us, we’re making a statement
Look at us, we’re making a statement
Look at us, we’re making a statement
Look at us, we’re making a statement

I'm a Chuckster. Yes, I Had Heard That

2007-12-31T19:55:00.000-08:00

First 100 coin attempt on J_V, not going so hot. Secrets stars are difficult, as always. So I think that my last post was my 100th. Woo hoo. Once again, these stars are intensely long, which is at first frustrating, but then cool in retrospect. It now appears that every other star has to have a boss as opposed to evry star. Not quite as frustrating. I really like how there are only 3 bars of health, it makes experimenting around with crap a lot more dangerous.
So we actually have a significant posse here tonight. It feels weird, they’re all here to hang obviously, but all seem terrible bored/annoyed with our playing. Deal with it.
First Bowser level we think. Yep, there’s the man himself firing meteors. No issue though.
The battle itself is quite strange. You’re on a giant orb with several circular windows in it. Bowser tries to stomp you, and you have to get him to destroy the window and hit the lava beneath it. He then runs around with his tail on fire. You hit him at this point, and then again. Looks like my turn is coming.

-OSK

No slapping, please.

Star Ball= Manta Ray Riding?

2007-12-31T03:05:00.000-08:00

I hope not. I'd hate to be hindrance to the group again. I know that J_V had a small bit of trouble on the manta, and I ended up getting completely owned.

Yep, I got completely owned. Whatever. What the hell is a foibles?
Dude...you're on a planet.

So J_V's Star Ball is apoparently the cosmic speed run against the Petey Pirhana reincarnate. I have faith however. Yep, he's got it.

Aww screw it, I'm going to bed.

-OSK

What? I've been going for 12 hours!

Complaints from 30,000 Feet

2007-12-31T01:46:00.000-08:00

A little sometrhing I wrote on the trip back.

I really hope we get transporter technology down to a science soon. I remember watching a Voyager in which Harry Kim references how he made the trip I’m making today (there and back, in fact) in a couple of hours. That’d be nice. It’s not really the 8 hours that bugs me, but the extreme discomfort of flying. Thus far my sleeping plan has failed; after sleeping 4 hours last night, I managed to pull off one hour on the plane before I became painfully awake. Planning to spend the majority of the flight in blissful unconsciousness, I requested the window seat, another of my mortal arch-rivals (along with Guitar Hero). The rationale was that I would never be awoken as people passed in and out, but now I find myself with a backfired plan. Crammed into the claustrophobia-inducing window seat for four hours now, I want nothing more than to walk around. However, one of my comrades has fallen asleep in the path of my exit. Great planning, OSK.
God, I hate how these seats recline. For some reason I’ve never been into the whole reclining on a plane thing, but you really realize how obnoxious it is, especially if you’re not a little guy. The girl in front of me just pushed back aggressively into my knees for the billionth time, and being the short-tempered Klingon I am, I gave her seat a sharp push of warning. I’m hoping it just seems to her like the seat has reclined to its max, not that some pissed-off guy is unleashing his wrath after four hours.
So plane seats suck. And the food…I was excited about the food. First time I was ever served a meal during a flight was the trip over for this vacation. The chicken was alright, the mini-pie quite good, the brownie spongie and dry. However, this meal was crap on top of crap.
Okay, I convinced a comrade to switch seats with me. This may seem mean, but their legs aren’t nearly as long as mine, so they should be fine.
So maybe I should stop being such a whiney little bitch. After all, it’s Zero Day, right?
I guess this is the part of the post where I completely change gears and talk about some other random crap that’s on my mind. I’ve noticed that’s sorta become my style recently- Gone are the days of planning posts out and giving them a definite purpose. Instead, they’re random collections of my thoughts from the day. Blogging probably makes me a worse English student actually, seeing as it regularly lets me practice bad habits of disorganized writing. But whatever, I like writing this better than I like writing organized crap.
Alright, I suppose I’ll change gears right now. I’ve always thought the worst type of blogging is the type that talks about blogging, save for a few exceptions. Bottom line- Air travel sucks and I’m a bad English student.
I don’t get it- I slept 4 hours and I can’t catch a wink of sleep on this motherfucker (Better, J_V?), but everyone who got 8-10 hours is out like a light? Such is the curse of my talent of avoiding sleep. I swear, one of these days I’m just not going to be able to sleep for days on end. Apparently teenage insomnia runs in the males of our family.

I guess flying isn’t that bad. I mean, hundreds of years ago people spent years crossing the ocean, only to spend their first 7 years in their new land as a slave of the captain who brought them over. I suppose I’ve got it a little better.
-OSK

Roll right, rock hard. Actually not that great of a song, but I like how the phrase sounds.

Stop Genocide in Mushroom Kingdom

2007-12-31T01:26:00.000-08:00

Great, secret stars. I’m really hoping these aren’t Sunshine-caliber secrets, as I’ve had enough random shines for a good while. Nice, new dome. Gotta say, the feeding of the big stars is somewhat stupid-looking. Basically everything involving plot in this game is kinda stupid. Except Rosalina.
Haha shock balls are back.

So I’ve worled up quite a star bit deficit, I should probably work on that. At this point I’m officially really into this game; it’s definitely got my attention.

The koopas on the ship are the saddest things I have ever seen. They look like the old guy’s dog in Family Guy. Maybe I’m doing them a favor by chucking them at my enemies, into a fiery, painful death.

They’re the new pink Yoshis.

-OSK

TRANSFOOOOOOORM!

Bawls and Beeness

2007-12-30T22:45:00.000-08:00

As has been pointed out, these stars are rather time consuming. It’s kinda cool, but at the same time they’re not particularly difficult, so it’s a bit annoying. But still cool. Now onto the bee suit. God, the bee suit. What’s with the bee suit, anyway?

Okay, Koops is the bee now. We’ve decided we basically have the water pack back, and J_V thinks it’s embarrassing.

It’s okay, it’s okay, it’s okay, it’s just my beeness.

So this second galaxy has a lot more character than the first. Honestly, I was a bit disappointed in how disjointed the first galaxy was, but hopefully this is an indicator of an increase in quality.

I’m also hoping Bowser levels are kickass. As I replayed the Mario 64 Bowser levels this past week, I realized that, while cool, they aren’t actually that difficult. I’m hoping the third Bowser level makes me cry…maybe not. Whatever, I’ll just keep saying I have allergies.

There seems to be some sort of boss for every single star. This either is the result of lazy designers (creatively) or a game which is building towards ridiculously hard combat further on. I’m not sure which thought I prefer.

-OSK

Those are penguins.

Welcome Back

2007-12-30T19:58:00.000-08:00

If Sunshine was the poop, this looks like it’s going to be the shit (or merde, if you will). I’m not sure if this is a better game yet (If the hype is correct, it is). I think the whole triangle thing is it. That, and Rosalina isn’t half bad. By not half bad, I mean smokin’.
So it appears this game is going to usher in plenty of science chat…great.
Evil energy? C’mon…
If the game designers make the most of this awesome gravity aspect of the game, this will be very interesting. I don’t really get what value the star bits have- maybe it’s 100 of them for a star instead of coins?
Gotta say though, I hope this game becomes more than solve a small puzzle on a small rock to access another small rock where you repeat the process. I’m holding out for bigger planets.

Anyway, this is awesome, and I’ll be back soon. Welcome back.

-OSK

What a fatso.

I Thought Legends of the Hidden Temple Was Cool Way Before All You Shrubs "Rediscovered" It

2007-12-29T17:19:00.000-08:00

All week (plus), all I can think of when I listen to “I’m Housin’” is Sunshine, and it saddened me. But now, it is a reminder of salvation. However, I still must slave and sacrifice some to make it back to the dojo. Ahead of me lies a cumulative 10 hour commute back to the hallowed Batcave, 10 slow, torturous hours containing a significant time change. This time change demands I take my shocking ability to go without sleep for long periods of time to a whole new level, and I am doing everything within my power to cheat this time change.
What is the best plan? The original idea was to not sleep at all tonight, thus forcing me to sleep during the monstrous commute. Having awoken a mere couple of hours before the marathon, I would theoretically be rejuvenated and ready to kick pixilated ass. However, let’s remember my aforementioned ability (and tendancy) to go without sleep for long times. Who’s to say that I wouldn’t make it through the night, only to find that sleeping during the commute was impossible? This would undoubtedly lead to an UBER crash during the marathon. Exactly what we don’t want. So the new plan is to try to make it to 3 or 4 AM, and then achieve 4 or 5 hours of sleep. Hopefully this would make me tired enough that commute sleeping was probable, and if it wasn’t, I still may be able to go on that little amount of sleep for the marathon. Cross your fingers.

But since you probably don’t give a shit about that, I suppose I’ll share a bit more of my experience over here.

Fallacy- What It Means To Be An American

Fool me once, shame on you. Fool me twice…Well, you don’t. You see, apparently being obviously American (Backpacks, baseball packs, general tourist attitude) in a hot tourist location makes you a target. People try to sucker you, and we got a bit suckered right off the bat. As our American group walked down some outdoor stairs in a popular location on our first day here, we were spotted by 5 guys, possibly homeless, possibly just trying to make a buck, who had decided to spend their day preying on generous souls such as us. As we completed the stairwell, each of us was blocked by one of these men, who asked us for our pinky. I was perplexed, and along with one of my companions, withheld. However, one of our group had foolishly given in, and the rest of us followed reluctantly, and as a result of peer pressure. It may just be my pride, but I’m pretty sure I gave in last. Just saying.
In any case, the men proceeded to make some sort of braiding around each of our pinkies as they spouted homely values of prosperity and dominantly peace. When this was over there was another awkward moment in which we all stood there wondering “What now?” until inevitably, someone made it a charity event and started dropping greens (or blues, as it was). A minute and a half later we stood there, now alone, with less money, thoroughly suckered.

About 8 days later, and it’s round 2 of Americans against the world. Spotted as the Americans we were by a waiter at a local breakfast spot, he eagerly waved us in with a warm smile. Having dropped into this nice place a handful of times before for a coffee (but never a meal), we gave in to the friendly-looking waiter. Let the suckering begin.
The first sign that something was fishy was the beer one adult ordered. For future reference, ordering beer= you are an American. The beer received was massive and costly. Someone was trying to fool us into thinking that local custom was to have that size. Then we ordered a pitcher of water. You know, with the intent that it would be free. But no, we were brought two large glass bottles of water, which we were later charged for. Once again we took this to be a misunderstanding and made nothing of it. There seemed to be nothing wrong with the wine one adult got, however, until we realized it was $16+. All this we took respectfully and didn’t make a big deal out of.
For those of you who don’t know, it is the custom here to never tip. Most restaurants build gratuity into the bill, and the capitalist idea of tipping for performance is completely absent.
When we got the bill, we attempted to pay with credit cards. He refused every one of the six or so different kinds we offered him, claiming they could only take a type of card I now suspect does not exist. We resorted to cash and paid with exact change, as we had done in many classier restaurants in the past week. When the waiter saw the exact change, he inquired as to what was wrong with the service. We told him nothing was wrong, and once he had left, we debated amongst ourselves why he had asked. We settled on the hypothesis that he was trying to play on our American affinity towards tipping. Having figured him out, we were pissed and wanted to leave. As we made our way towards the door, he reappeared and asked again what was wrong with the service. We once again told him it was fine and moved to exit. Suddenly, his mild annoyance escalated into rage. He pursued us out the door, all the while yelling (in his own restaurant) “The bill is the bill, tip not included!” anmd then cursed us with “I do not wish you a good night, I do not wish you a happy New Year, Do not come back here!” Asshole.
Moral of the story- Sucker me once, shame on you. Sucker me twice…Well, you don’t.

Fallacy #2- Nostalgia

I always seem to be able to find something about any part of my life which I miss. If you were to pick any era of my thus far short life, I would undoubtedly have some bit of deep nostalgia associated with it. And I don’t mean eras like preschool, first grade, anything like that. I mean even more specific, like last December break or freshman summer. For some reason, I have always been a very nostalgic person. It is likely that this is because of my fascination with isolation, as things I am nostalgic about seem completely gone and lost, except for where they reside in the romantic section of my mind.
This vacation has been very interesting. How could it not be? History all around me, breathtaking views right around the streetcorner. However, it has not been my favorite of all time, simply because I find it very hard to relate to history. The palaces of the long dead mean nothing to me, their ornate golden thrones seem a waste of resources in my mind. I’ve never been an art fanatic. However, I felt a strong notch of nostalgia in my stomach tonight as I peered through a window into the local famous art museum.
The day I spent there was probably one of my least favorites, lots of looking at paintings which I couldn’t relate to at all. We were there with a member of the family one of my comrades had been staying with, a guy who seemed really great, but who I didn’t get to know very well. At the time, I had not really felt any way about spending the day with him and my group, but somehow tonight I was filled with amorphous nostalgia. It may’ve just been because of the perfect sadness of the scene- The dark exterior of a massive, magnificent museum which was uncharacteristically vacant. It is our last night, and the surrounding land is serene and almost completely silent, and I’m staring down into the museum, somehow feeling I’ll miss it. Could it be that deep down I actually enjoyed the museum tour? Could it be that the man we were with was an embodiment for me of the cool people in the world who I will never meet because I’m there and they’re here?
No, I don’t think so. I’m coming to think that maybe there are two types of nostalgia- the real and the fake, and I was experiencing the fake, as I have many times before.
What is fake nostalgia, you may wonder? It is when you are in a particularly uninteresting phase of life, such as my school year thus far. Not at all unhappy, just uninteresting. You are caught in one surreal moment which really has no meaning but is strangely cool, and you convince yourself that you have an attatchment to that part of your life. Basically, you create memories which are better than the actual occurrence. I don’t know if this happens to anyone else, but I know that it is the case here for me. It makes me wonder- How much else of my nostalgia is fake? Not the friend stuff; that’s good shit. But middle school, when life wasn’t nearly as good as it is now, are my memories of that sunnier than reality? And how about freshman year, which was dominantly awkward and annoying?
No, based on the memories I’ve heard my elders recount, I hypothesize that only the meaningless nostalgia reveals itself as trivial. In any case, sometimes I wish I wasn’t such an imagery guy.

1 fucking day.

-Batman

Bon Voyage…Throwback much?

Trying to save, Being Excommunicated From the Area

2007-12-27T15:13:00.000-08:00

Figured I should check in, seeing as I’ll only have free internet for another day or so, and seeing as I just goaded J_V into triple (double) posting, I don’t want to take crap for being a hypocrite. Then again, I could’ve just told you I didn’t have internet…wait, no, I’ve been commenting. In any case, I just like the sound of my own typing.
I’m so ridiculously stoked for Galaxy, it actually hurts sometimes. I don’t think any of you can understand the despair I felt about a week ago, knowing that I had to slave through 11 days to make it back to my beloved (albeit uncomfortable) couch with my equally eager comrades. Alright, perhaps this trip isn’t exactly the epitome of “slaving” through 11 days. Indeed, I think I’ve been unfair to this trip, as instead of enjoying it, I sometimes think of what I’m missing. But with a mere 3 days to go, I’ve let myself get a little looser.
As tempting as it is to keep rambling without content or purpose about Mario, I’d actually like to remind my readers that this blog is not exclusively about video games.

Contrary to everything you’ve seen here in the last month.

So instead, I’ll follow in Juicy’s footsteps and tell you about my Christmas. Or lackthereof. Actually, it was quite nice to not make a big deal of the holiday. You see, unlike at home, the holiday was not commercially crammed down my throat here. In fact, if I hadn’t known the date, I wouldn’t even have guessed it was Christmas. I don’t think I heard a single song about Santa or Jesus all day, and while I take no issue with either figure, their music is not a favorite of mine.

My Christmas experience began the night of Christmas Eve. After having a great dinner, our restaurant served us their signature two desserts, one piece of chocolate mousse and a tube of some ice-cream-like substance. Having not really been eating the past four days just because I didn’t feel like it, I suddenly remembered how much I like food. I quickly polished off my plate and waited 5 minutes, knowing what was about to come. And indeed, I was eventually recruited to assist in the completion of the family member’s sweets. Needless to say, by the end of the night I was sugar-loaded. And like a 5-year-old boy, I couldn’t sleep at all that night.

Eventually exiled to the hotel lobby, I published the pathetic “Sob Story” and resorted to AIM to seek out conversation. Luckily the time change made times like 4 AM actual practical IMing times for friends back home. After waging meaningless conversation back and forth with several buddies I had no real desire to speak with just for something to do, I was finally contacted by Juicy.

The first main subject touched upon was me uncharacteristically complaining about my good situation. Just goes to show you all how I’m missing all of last year’s drama. Life is so uneventful now.

But the second topic was a bit more uplifting- The theater endeavor many of us have planned for this summer. After rereading the intitial 2 pages I wrote of the script (progress, I know) I realized that, if we really give, this could be both awesome and possible. Juicy can attest to how awesome the entire situation could be.
So I’ve decided there’s no turning back now. I’m really pumped to write this motherfo. I think a tight-knit group of friends working on such a momentous project would be awesome, and actually make us all feel productive for once. So this is it. When I get back, preparations begin. Who cares if the script is barely off its feet? I’ve got the concept, now I’ve just got to start writing instead of spending time doing homework, watching tv, playing video games.

Maybe not that last one. In any case, this all begins after Galaxy.

So this is it. Jump on the bandwagon; all the cool kids are doing it. This is going down; no turning back now.

-That Klingon Kid

You're the one I love
But I kill all that I see

Sob Story

2007-12-24T20:26:00.000-08:00

Oh, how I miss my room. I miss the nights when, if I couldn't sleep, I could just go downstairs and play video games, or talk to someone on the phone who I knew would be up, too. Back in the good old days when my happiness didn't effect other people's happiness. When i had the luxury of sleeping when i felt tired, and waking when I wanted to.
But now, sharing a room with relatives, I am either forced to lie in bed in silence for the entirety of the night, or come out into the hallway with my laptop and resign myself to a night of no sleep. And there really is no return to the room. Having returned once when my omputer battery died to try to get some sleep again (to no avail) my second departure has seriously pissed off one relative, and I can no longer return. It's really a lose-lose situation now. Either I return and get scolded for keeping the other relatives up and lie in bed for 4 more hours, or I stay out here and get scolded in the morning for "staying up all night". Seriously, dude, it's not called staying up, it's called not being able to sleep. Don't act like you've never heard of it. But the option of staying out in the hallway is the obvious choice, as it avoids hours of boredom without my computer. Which isn't to say I'm not pretty bored right now. I mean seriously, someone get on AIM and talk to me. It's only 11:30 where you are. Don't try to pull that crap and tell me you actually have a life and have to do something else.
Oh yeah, and I forgot my headphones, so now I have to sit here in silence. So seriously, someone talk to me.

87 stars. Yeah, that's really all I have to say. 5 days.

-OSK

Who exactly is Che Guavera?

Post For You Far Away

2007-12-24T08:14:00.000-08:00

As I imagine that all of your lives are empty and meaningless without me, I suppose I'll take the chance to say hi, if only to give you all a few more lines of text to cherish and revere.

But naturally, I'm really wanting to talk about me. And my visions. Of world video gaming from OSK industries. Namely, my visions for Mario games and "You-wake-up-in-a-room" (I think 'll have to change the working title of that one, it doesn't quite have a ring to it).

Yes, I am aware that Mario games are property of Nintendo. But when a good friend of mine takes over the world, they will naturally hand Nintendo to me. Unlike my literary and theatric ideas, I feel I could actually finish the design of a Mario game. I can't come up with my own ideas, but I can sure as hell steal someone else's, point out its flaws, and better them to fit my wants and needs. Having just played Mario Sunshine, I like the format of it very much. I think the idea of having Mario 64-esque levels, just less of them with more stars each is cool. That way, each level is so much more developed and has so much more depth. I'd keep the format of the Sunshine levels- 8 "episode" stars, one 100 coin star, and 2 secret shines. But you see, there wouldn't be any of the "Secret of Ricco Tower" type stars. They were wickedly cool, but now that it's been done, it's been done. This would also add to the depth of the level environments, as there would be even more stars in the actual level. Also, the secret stars would actually be clever. As opposed to having to do such things as spray the sun and golden stars to reveal shines, you would actually have to work for these and they wouldn't just be random things. If I were actually able to replace the golden bird shine in Noki Bay, for example, I would make it much more difficult. You would have to walk around what appears to be the outskirts of the level. Instead of an invisible wall, you would find a ruins mark very, very far along the rock face. When you sprayed it, a maze formation would appear. It would be extensive, and the entire thing would be on a timer. It would be virtually impossible to get to the end before the timer ran out. The best you could really do is make it through the entire thing mere seconds before the last section closes. At this point you would recieve the shine.
But the kicker would be the end of the game. After you aquired all 120 stars (11 from each of the 10 levels, plus 10 evilly hard "castle secret stars"), Luigi would become a playable character in that fire. Also, a koopa will suddenly appear deep in the woods. When you find him, he will ask you for 100 blue coins. Although I hated the blue coin system, I would make it a bonus in this game, as opposed to part of the 120 stars. I do think it was cool how the blue coins always kept you on your toes. They would be so cleverly hidden, however, that you would only naturally run into 10 or 15 of them while getting the 120 stars if you were not looking for them.
If you were able to supply the 100 blue coins, the koopa would open a portal to a secret 11th level, Bowser's castle. Having already fought Bowser 3 times during the game (and seemingly defeating him in the last encounter) no one would expect to see him again. The level would consist of the same 11 stars as the other levels, but they would all be much more difficult. The first star would involve a Baby Bowser boss fight. Another would involve racing a paratroopa around Bowser's lava moat, and you're in a boat (a rowing system would be involved- Koops can attes to how much of a pain this would be). The level would only have 101 coins, and most would be hidden. The second secret star (only accesible after getting all 10 other stars in the level) would climax in a fourth Bowser battle atop the castle. If you beat this, you will get the 131st star and your reward will be knowing that you are the man. Other random details would be that levels themselves would be hard to find (think shifting sand land) and each of the four Bowser battles would have a different format (As an example, imagine a Bowser battle in which about a dozen huge magnets are floating in space. You and Bowser can jump from magnet to magnet. Your objective is to throw Bowser towards a magnet when it is aligned on the other side of an electric orb (of which there would be maybe three) so that he would pass through the orb on the way. Also, the game would take place in a larger playing arena. Not quite Zelda size, but an almost as massive landscape. This will make the quest for the 10 "castle secret stars" incredibly hard. You will need 75 stars to fight the thirdl Bowser.
But since making a Mario game will no doubt find me with a lawsuit, let's focus on my brainchild (or brain-fetus, rather) "You-wake-up-in-a-room". This is very much a copy of the "Kid wakes up on a boat" book, but is more practical in actually pulling off. Being landbound, there's much more for the main character to do.
It starts out with you waking up in a room. Go figure. Your character has no memory of who they are, how they got there, etc. Basic Hollywood amnesia. Initially, the game is a game of "Escape the Room". It then becomes a game of "Escape the Building". Much more complicated. You emerge from the building, having no clue what's going on, and find yourself in a city. You attempt to talk to people, only to find that you cannot understand their language and they cannot understand yours. Great.
The first huge section of the game takes place in this city, which lies next to an ocean. Without being able to communicate with anyone, you will have to collect items and execute a chain of devilishly hard actions and exchanges until you are presented with a way to stowaway on a ship heading out to sea. Basically these devilishly hard actions would mirror the style of the Monkey Island series- following logic every once in a while, but mostly having to do with thinking out of the box and trying unexpected things. You can imagine how difficult this would be with an entire city, and no understandable dialogue.
Having boarded the ship, you will have "Escaped the Nation". You arrive on another continent to discover a rural area with a low population. But they speak your language! But don't get comfortable, it only gets harder. Back on the first continent, you could be lucky enough to discover that stowing away was an objective. But there is no noticeable objective here, and tons of stuff to collect and interact with. The dialogue will be Monkey Island style- Essential, but challenging to use to get what you want. There is one objective that you can discover, which is finding a man who can teach you the native tongue of the first nation. This quest will take you about half the time it takes to do all of the other necessary, but seemingly pointless side quests on the rural nation. These will be frustrating because there will be a handful of long side-quests which bear fruit, but also a handful which are long and either lead you to items with no use or complete dead-ends. Once you have learned the foreign tongue and obtained the other knowledge and objects you need to on the rural nation, you will want to return to the first nation. You have now completed the first two parts of the game, but the third is the biggest and hardest. Using items and knowledge from parts 1 and 2, you will now have to use your knowledge of the native tongue to find new uses for them.
Just so you know, if you missed any necessary quests from part 1 that you need in part 2, or missed any in part 2 that you need in part 3, there is the difficult option of hijacking a small boat from the rural nation's port to make for easy transport. Hijacking this boat is eventually necessary, as it is the only way to get back to the first nation after part 2, as the boat you stowed away on remains in the second nation's port for the rest of the game. This will likely result in much motoring back and forth to find things which you missed earlier.
Once you do the necessary things in part 3, you begin to uncover the scifi backstory of the game. I haven't quite worked out the details, but basically your character was somehow inserted into this surreal, artificial world from "the real world". This game climaxes as it becomes a game of "Escape the World". This may seem like jumping the shark, but the scifi backstory and truth about the main character will be hinted at the entire game. I will make sure to make him seem a real character in an unreal world. Many dead-end side-quests will also throw some light on your situation without giving away the ending. Talking to some characters will do this same thing. There will be no cutscenes in the game, so planting these hints will have to be done subtley, but at the same time noticeably. I've always agreed that a good mystery is one where you couldn't have possibly guessed the ending, but when you see the ending, you realize that it couldn't have ended any other way. In order to escape the world, you will have to do something like find a portal back to your world. An idea I really like, though, is that this artificial world has strict boundaries, and by finding the means to launch into space, you could exceed these boundaries.
When you emerge back into your world, there would be a brief textual explanation of the events which ahd transpired, filling in some but not all holes. You won.
Crazy, I know. Awesome, I know. I really want to lay out a plan for this.

So it's 3 AM here and I probably should be trying to sleep instead of sitting here typing this long-ass post. I can't seem to sleep at all here, what with snoring relatives and a night club right outside where we're staying. Tonight was pretty quiet (I don't imagine night clubs are hopping on Christmas eve) but having slept 'til noon yesterday (My one solid night of rest thus far) I'm not in the least tired. I really hate sleeping away from home. Which isn't to say that I mind spending my nights playing Mario 64 o my computer a pain, but the day after is always hell. By the way, controlling Mario with arrow keys sucks. I consider my 84 stars thus far quite an accomplishment. I've been having a good time here, but I keep thinking of everything in terms of Mario. I find myself thinking "That would be an awesome surface to belly-slide down", or "I bet there's a blue coin around that corner...No one would expect that!" Each of these thoughts is followed by something along the lines of "Seriously, OSK?" So I'm happy and unhappy at the same time. This is cool, and I long for Mario. Once again, I apologize to you all for the horrible timing of this vacation, but only 5 days now! Having basically had a 12 hour time change (What with the actual time change and having to conform my sleep cycle to those around me) I don't know how I'm goin to be able to function that first night back, but I'll sure as hell grit it out. Maybe I won't sleep at all the night before and sleep on the way home, then hit the energy drinks hard. That sounds like a sound plan. God, I can't wait. How can I possibly enjoy this vacation entirely and still make it go by more quickly?

I need a montage.

-OSK

Is it bad that "teh" is starting to look right?

The Black Room of Death Chroncles, Episode 2

2007-12-19T11:01:00.000-08:00

There is a room where Mario (Luigi?) lies and waits for me. Waits patiently in the cold blackness of space, the biggest black room of death of all. They lie on my desk, they’ve tempted me every day to come into the dark room with them. But I cannot without my comrades. Now, driven to insanity by the allure of the treasure of a new adventure, I pace the room where they reside. This room is cold as a tomb, and their adventure will remain in it until I return. It will lie dead until my comrades and I come to reanimate it. I am a guard against impurity of playing; I will not allow myself or others (paper clip) to explore this adventure without our entire group. And yet here I am, facing a role-reversal. Suddenly I am the one going away, being waited for. I am the sole barrier between them and the black room of death. There is no way around it. I will have to live with this anguish for 10 days.

For you.

-OSK

Yeah, nightly, right.

There Are Rules

2007-12-19T10:32:00.000-08:00

It's been mentioned lately how speed-running SM64 could and will most likely become a pastime for the gamers among us. I'd take it as likely that some of you will do it over the next little while, as I am gone, and your lives are meaningless without me. I'm thrilled, but let me lay down some ground rules:

1. Time must be carefully recorded. The timer starts when you turn the N64 on. Time goes off when Yoshi speaks his last words (You may rush through dialogue)
2. All 120 stars must be acquired (duh). For the sake of consistency, let's all beat Bowser, then go to Yoshi (You may turn the N64 off then on again after Bowser speaks his last words so as to avoid the long ending).
3. All three Bowsers must be beaten.
4. No collaboration. One person, one save file.
5. No guides or help from others. If you forget something, figure it out.
6.Stars may be acquired in any order you desire.
7. No glitching/cheating (Like we even can).
8. Games MUST be done in one sitting. This is as much an endurance test as it is a skill test. If you have to break to walk the dog or feed grandma, fine, adjust the time accordingly. But no deliberate breaks to give your mind a rest. Plan to do it in one sitting.
9. Keep time as precisely as possible.

If you have a problem with these rules, too bad, I won't be here to argue them. But I think they're fairly agreeable.

Good gaming.

-OSK

Stupid Excel.

Solid Ground (Journal Entry #2 of Pilot Power Master Steel Crush HeliCyrus Razorclaw Cerebros)

2007-12-19T01:02:00.000-08:00

A Preface: There were many Franks in many worlds, sometimes two in one world, or three, or four, but generally spread out in the universe, unaware of the effect the other Franks were having on his life. Some were even unaware of the other Franks’ existence. Such was the case with the Frank of Isolation. This Frank, The Frank, was a man in a world not his own, trapped in a world of green . Indeed, this was a foreign world to The Frank, who had lived all his life in the England-Wrestler-Transformer nation. Alone, and desperate for survival, he would strive to do the impossible by penetrating deeper into the mystery of this green world than any person had before.

The Frank had no idea how this would affect he and the other Franks in the grand scheme of things.

I, Pilot Power Master Steel Crush HeliCyrus RazorClaw Cerebros, feel my hands shaking as I sail over the first of these mysterious blocks. I am not so much upset as nervous. Indeed, my despair over the death of co-pilot RedShirt seems to have disappeared. The academy employs the Redshirt family for this reason; mourning never seems to last until the next episode.
I, Pilot Power Master Steel Crush HeliCyrus RazorClaw Cerebros, have no idea what these green floor, ceiling, and blocks mean, but their ridgy surfaces look uninviting. As the second block passes above me, I fear that this run cannot last forever. These blocks are not all aligned perfectly, and probability tells me, Pilot Power Master Steel Crush HeliCyrus RazorClaw Cerebros, that eventually I will be placed in a difficult situation.
I approach the third block, only to suddenly drop towards the top of it as the helicopter violently hiccups. I drop low enough to easily hit the block, but luckily I am barely past it. The thrash of the copter throws me forward onto the dashboard. I, Pilot Power Master Steel Crush HeliCyrus Razorclaw Cerebros, slam onto the interface of the copter’s computer. Suddenly the copter freezes in midair. I, Pilot Power Master Steel Crush HeliCyrus RazorClaw Cerebros, am obviously startled. Hesitant to raise myself from the controls (utilizing my wickedsexyamazing forearms), I peer up at the central display. A grey rectangle has appeared with several options. “Zoom In”, “Zoom Out”, “Select All”, among others. I, Pilot Power Master Steel Crush HeliCyrus RazorClaw Cerebros, suddenly realize that I have landed on the right-click pad of my computer (Yes, it makes total sense that two civilizations with no interaction or similar origins would have the exact same style of computer technology). Realizing this, I press harder on the right click, mortified of moving again. I, Pilot Power Master Steel Crush HeliCyrus RazorClaw Cerebros, gaze at the fuel gauge of the copter and realize the horrible reason for the copter’s hiccup: The fuel tank is all but empty. A leak must have been torn in the tank in the violent vortex which had brought me to this hellhole.
An idea strikes me. I, Pilot Power Master Steel Crush HeliCyrus RazorClaw Cerebros cannot fly more than a block or two more safely, and I must find fuel if I wish to continue. Perhaps it’s time to see exactly what this green stuff is made of. Holding down the right click with one hand, I rummage in my pocket desperately with my other, praying that OSK’s kindness has graced me with a deus ex machina. And there it is, a rubber band. Perfect.
I let go of the mouse. As the copter plummets, I, Pilot Power Master Steel Crush HeliCyrus Razorclaw Cerebros, intently peer at the approaching green ground, estimating the distance. A mere 100 feet above the ground, I tie the rubber band around the mouse, and the copter comes to a horrifying halt. Peering out the window, I estimate that we are but 40 feet above the bottom.
I grab a pistol, throwing the door open and dropping a rope ladder out the side. I grab emergency rations, good for 3 days. I, Pilot Power Master Steel Crush HeliCyrus razorClaw Cerebros grab an oxygen mask, and throw it on. Slowly I descend the ladder. The environment is suprisingly warm, and the black void even more shockingly gaping than it seemed from the inside. I reach the end of the ladder, 15 feet above the ground. I drop a pen from my pocket, it appears to land unaffected. Time for a leap of faith.

-Pilot Power Master Steel Crush HeliCyrus Razorclaw Cerebros

But…It’s pink.

Back to Hell

2007-12-17T15:01:00.001-08:00

We've finally reached the part of the game where nothing is easy anymore. In an attempt to get 100 coins on Sirena Beach, I chose the episode prescribed by one guide. After acquiring 99 coins, I ate shit. Great. That was followed by hours of trying to get red coins ona secret level, which iI finally got on one of them. This has been a very productive session.

Actually, it's picking up. We've knocked off a few clutch (by which I mean easy) secret levels. We're also working on some of the secret shines,a nd I've got to say, I'm a bit dissapointed. The golden bird was a good indicator of shine quality, as most of these are random and represent in no way how clever or good at handling Mario you are. the most recent one we did involved spraying the sun. WTF? Actually, it didn't just involve it; that was the entire shine. WTF?

Once again, let me praise the use of height in this game. Standing atop the huge tree in Pianta Village, the intricacy of the landscape far below me is almost breathtaking, but then I remember it's a video game. And it's even more spectacular. Back to Sirena beach 100 coins. Joy.

-OSK

There doesn't seem to be anyone else besides us here.

Poetic Outlet III

2007-12-17T11:05:00.000-08:00

High above the ocean
A gaping mouth of black
Wonderful, shining notion
Bring me back
To mushroom kingdom
Where Peach I can mack
Oh, gaping mouth of black
Yield me your secret red coins
My shines will be 90
The remainder but 30
Oh, shining mouth of black
Tower of rotating blocks
Where the fuck is that coin of blue
Which Koops missed somewhere along the way?
Tell me it's in the lava goo
So we can get more sunshine rays
So close, yet so far
Bring me back
To mushroom kingdom
So I may partake
In some of peach's cake

-OSK

Seriously, we're gonna be screwed without the water pack.

Back in the Dojo?

2007-12-17T10:17:00.000-08:00

Koops has proceeded to destroy this 100 coin star, and the future is looking bright, now that I've dsicovered so many secret shines (Every secret level has a "now-you-have-your-water-pack-go-get-eight-red-coins" secret shine. Much frustration likely lies ahead.
Mmmmm, Koops and I ahve had a novel idea- Use a boat to get to a time-limit blue coin across the bay. It worked. Way to go Koops' awesome boat skills. We're a bit scared that we each missed a different blue coin somewhere, but hopefully we're wrong (That would probably ruin our lives). The second baot blue coin is proving to be a bit more difficult.
I think I'm going to go crazy, looking for gold birds everywhere I go. It's that type of random shit on the part of a game designer that makes gamers like me go insane. Attention to detail sucks. Whatever happened to the simple "do what the title says" stars in Mario 64? Whatever, if I were a game designer, my games would be mecriless. Maybe someday I really will make that game about the guy who wakes up in a mysterious room by himself in a world where no one speaks his language. It'd be sorta like "Monkey Island" meets "Escape the Room", except without Monkey's hilarity and Room's terribly simplistic solution.
So this second blue coin is proving to be a real pain.
We're coming back to that one, it sucks. Speaking of things that suck, we're trying eight red coins on the hardest secret level. Okay, we put that one off to. Better to hone our skills on the easier levels before tackling that mofo.
Now It's Ricco Tower all over again with Koops,a nd it's not the prettiest sight ever. Given, he's a lot better at secret levels now, but with red coins (and with his boost insted of hover) it's not gonna be a fun time.

Now we're a few shines further, and i feel the groove coming back. It's been brought to our attention that Yoshi genocite was unnecessary, we just had to ahve them eat a certain fruit. Whatever, a Yoshi which started pink doesn't deserve life even if it has turned orange.

I've decided I don'tg like the secret level red coin buttons; they remind me of blisters. Not fun. Not to mention the pain associated with them. Okay, there's not really that much pain.

Gonna watch a bit. Be back.

-OSK

"If you die in the game, you die in real life." What movie was that from?

Revenge is 100 coins in 5 minutes

2007-12-16T17:25:00.000-08:00

Letme tell you a sad story, followed by a tale of redemption.

I checked the online guide to see which episode of Noki Bay i should use for 100 coins (our first 100 coins exploit). When I checked, I was about 40 coins in. They said "The Boss of Tricky Ruins". I was doing the one with the red coin fish. Koops said there couldn't eb more than 20-30 coins underwater, and I could only find 50 above. So with 52 coins, I descended with little hope of success. I had already poured a solid 20 minutes into this star. You can imagine my ecstasy, then, when I discovered 60+ coins on the ocean floor. The shine sprouted out, and I swam to retrieve it.

Fuck, where'd it go? Without Koops' attention to detail, my companion and I were utterly unable to find the shine on the expansive underwater city landscape. After about 3 minutes of hanging on, I suffocated.

That sucks, by the way. It really sucks when that happens. It really does.

I was now armed with the knowledge of the proper episode to use. I was also armed with anger. Anger won over.

I chose the red coin fish again. In about five minutes, I grabbed 52 coins above the ocean floor, descended below, and got my 100. I watched where it went, I triumphed. It was ridiculously easy.

But there are more victories to be told. I now know where both secret stars in Noki Bay are. I figured the network of secret water-activated passages must be hiding a secret shine, and I was right. But it wasn't as blatant as I had thought. Atop the map, on a high cliff, was a tree with a golden bird. When said bird was sprayed, it turned into a shine. God help us with these secret shines.

-OSK

2 weeks...

Second World War, Third Round

2007-12-15T18:47:00.000-08:00

Three nights of the weapon of video games above ground. Have I mentioned I love this game? Unfortunately the authority figures won't let this "marathon" go too long, for Koops and I have duties in the morning. Duties at something which will most certainly be snowed out if the weather reports are anything like predicted.
I don't know if I've stressed this yet, but I love secret levels. I just completed one (in two tries, I might add) which was awesomely massive and complex, involving pretty much every move in Mario repetoire. Im happy that Nintendo has, at least to some degree, preserved the raw How-Well-Can-You-Control-Mario aspect of Mario games, at least a little bit. After all, Mario was born of side-scrollers, so this is where the heart's at. Once again, I hope Galaxy was somewhat inspired by these levels, as I wouldn't mind if Mario kept being the opposite of Monkey Island.
We often talk about music which we associate with certain phases of the friend group (Mario 64, Pool table, etc.) I'm left to wonder what music I will associate with this endeavor. At the present time I'm thinking Rage/Audioslave, not because they're necessarily the best we're listening to, just because we're listening to them the most.
So we'ev decided to beat Bowser prematurely. Usually, i would consider this impure, but the entire town is flooded (inconvenient) and there's a ahine you can't get until you beat Bowser. So basically we have one more excuse to avoid all of the hard Shines.
By the way, blue coins are evil as hell. Like the beach shine sprite, we have discovered a blue coin which can only eb uncovered by spraying a patch of sand on a massive beach. MASSIVE beach.
Speaking of ebaches, I was playing my arch-nemesis today, Guitar Hero. I wasn't going to give in, but then I saw that one of the only two playable characters was Tom Morello. After shaming Morello's name by wrecking "Bulls On Parade", I gave up and went back to hating the game.

Koops is fighting Bowser...again.

-OSK

There is no way that sex could've worked.

Out of Hell

2007-12-14T06:55:00.000-08:00

I have conquered the hell which is the secret Yoshi level. I give Koops full credit for guiding me through that. Unfortunately, he doesn't seem to have the Yoshi control to make it to the island in the first place.

A few complaints-

240 Blue coins. I thought we only needed 120. i thought we were doing so fucking well. Guess not. But seriously, how can anyone find all 240 blue coins hidden in random-ass locations around the entire game? Well, I guess Koops and I will find out exactly how it's done.

The Shine on the Beach- If you squirt a random part of a fairly large segment of beach for a while, you get a Shine Sprite. How the hell were we supposed to know about a shine sprite under a random patch of sand? I'm sure there were myriads of fans out there with 119 shines tearing their hair out over the location of the last ones. I mean c'mon, that's even clever. It's just random.

Once again, a complaint about the hell level. It's probably taken up hours of our night at this point. Especially since I proceeded to repeat the same Shine from level 1 over and over again literally 20 times to get 20 extra lives, which I did not end up needing. I swear, if Koops can ever make it onto this boat, he's going to be pretty damn good at it. If ever.

So if you're checking the times of tehse posts, you may have noticed how ridiculously epic this gaming marathon has been. This started at about noon, and it's now 10:12 AM. Slowly, we are becoming more and more masters of Mario Sunshine. Really, this is what vacation should be- No concept of time, no commitments whatsoever, no anything. And miraculously, not tired. Fuck the twelve hour rule- Why ever stop?

Speaking of never stopping, I'm thinking of legitimately speed-running SM64. I mean, I love it so much, why not? Wow, I really am a geek. Props to Koops for actually making it into the level, he's destroying it. But yeah, I'd be interested in getting some friendly "who can beat SM64 the fastest" competition to see who would reign victorious (Me). But I'm not cocky or anything (Player since 1997). Perhaps that'll keep Koops and J_V busy while I'm over the pond (tear). God knows they'll be lost without me.

You know, it's somewhat ironic- We (J_V) criticized Rainbow Road in SM64 for being uncreative. Random objects floating in the sky, no creative theme to any of it, unlike the other levels, which are all bound by the semi-realism of their environments. I agree with this opinion. However, all of the "Secret" levels in Sunshine purely involve floating objects in space, and they really are brilliant. Drop all te plot crap; how's your logic and how well can you handle Mario (without the water pack)?

Alright, marathon coming to a close. See you next time.

-OSK

For you

Worse than 'Nam

2007-12-13T22:25:00.000-08:00

Let me show you hell.

Picture this: You're riding a Yoshi. Yoshis die when they touch water. Ignore the fact that that makes NO sense. Anyway, not only do Yoshis die in water, they also die after about 2 minutes. What the hell, Nintendo? Okay, so in two minutes you have to (riding Yoshi) jump some water, stomp into a manhole, walk UNDER the ocean, come out on an island, jump onto a moving boat (avoiding lethal water), ride this boat for a while, jump onto a stationary platform in the middle of the ocean (avoiding lethal water), eat a fruit to prevent Yoshi from dying, jump onto another moving boat (avoiding lethal water), and then jump onto another island (avoiding lethal water). At this point this good-for-nothing can't touch-water Yoshi squirts his juice onto some gelatinous goo on the top of a warp pipe, causing the deadly goop to go away. Enter the pipe.

The second level of hell: Inside this pipe you find yourself at the mouth of a river filled with water (This time water lethal to Mario). You must jump onto a lily in the deadly water (avoiding the lethal water) and use your waer pack to steer yourself down the very speedy river, grabbing 8 red coins along the way. If you die a handful of times, you start the entire process over again.

Only Vault can guide me through this.

Now Koops is fighting the white silhouette of an electric manta ray on a beach by spraying it so it divides. He's surrounded by electric slime. Seriously, what was Nintendo on when they made this game?

Okay, new picture of hell: Koops trying to destroy these Manta rays. I can't vouch for how difficult it is, but it's the first shine of a new level and he's gotten pretty owned 3 times now...Bummer.

-OSK

Haha, she said "lubricate".

I'm More Shocked Than I Was At the End of Battlestar Season Three

2007-12-13T20:36:00.000-08:00

Gooper Blooper 3? I'd be lying if I said my heart didn't skip a beat when I saw him. I think Nintendo's found in Blooper what theyw found in the Big Boo and Wiggler- A boss comical and easy enough to be a satisfying recurring foe, seeing as he's funny as hell and not at all challenging. I lmean, ripping his tentacles off as he squirms and shreaks in excuciating pain? It's unmario-ness is hilarious. Then again, maybe Mario's growing up, what with all the Yoshi genocide (mostly Pink). Not to mention Blooper's eyes turn purple as you yank on his ose until it completely rips off. Blooper, I look forward to torturing you in Galaxy,hopefully getting to rip your face open another 6 delicious, calamri-flavored times.
Speaking of Glaxy, Koops and I have decided that we're gonna be very disoriented when we start on Galaxy, desperate without our water packs. Oh, the desperation of only being able to jump normally.
So apparently "Buddhalicious" is our new blogger psuedonym for her? Not sure how I like that, but it's fine for me.

Koops vs. Blooper

Koops takes a few brutal hits, squashes a tentacle, grabs, BAM!
SO MUCH PAIN
If I were a child, the graphic nature of these fights would probably traumatize me.
Pull that motherfracker's nose. Okay, Blooper's back, Koops takes a tentacle.
Win...wow.

I apologize for the scatter-brained style of these posts, a lot is happening in a little time. It's actually shocking looking at how much is happening in comparison with how few shines we have. This game definitely kicks 64's ass as far as difficulty goes, yet we're still mauling it.

Okay, "Buddhalicious" wants the comp. Later.

-OSK

This live blogging thing aint half bad. And yeah, i don't feel the need to apostrophize (word?) "aint".

Shut Up and Mario

2007-12-13T14:43:00.000-08:00

Some dialogue.

"UHHHHHHH-UHHHHH-OH...Felt so good."

"Where is it?"

Stoner Voice: "Try riding the roller coaster man...YEAH."
"Hey, I'm not even completely sure where I'm going."
"UP"

The others are getting restless.

The question has been raised whether Rage (who has a non-black singer) can drop the N-bomb if covering a song written by a band with a black singer. Intiguing.

This is really bftsob. Whatever. Mario is cool. And I love marathoning video games. Okay Klingon, shut up and Mario already.

-OSK

Pink Yoshis are undesireable.

Welcome to the Zone

2007-12-13T11:37:00.000-08:00

by the ay, it's what we're in. Round 2, and things are getting pretty damn good. Although I'm kinda pissed off about this blue coin thing. I mean, 120? And they're in the most random places EVERYWHERE. This Sunshine experience will no doubt culminate in the two of us scouring the entire game for the myriad blue coins we missed. It's weird, amost all of the stars in the game are harder and/or more creative than in 64, but they cop out on 24 stars, whereas in 64 they only cop out on a few.
Apparently red coins flow in the current when in water, and can travel through rocks? What?
Koops is having trouble getting a watermelon across the dock. The ocean is incredibly expansive, given, not as expansive as in Wind Waker, but pretty freaking big. I'm okay with giving Nintendo props for hiding a blue coin underwater hundreds of feet away from the actual level..dirty clever.
Yeah, Koops si not doing so hot with this watermelon...
I wonder if Wiggler will makea third appearance in Galaxy. He'll probably be easy as poop, as usual. These "telephone poles" are proving to be real candy canes, which really isn't that bad. So apparently we can get the 100 coin star if we destroy 100 watermelons. Hmmm...maybe I should work on some watermelon puns. More on that later.

-OSK

I'd take those darn windbags right now.

The Black Room of Death Chronicles, Episode 1

2007-12-12T19:13:00.000-08:00

So begins my nightly installments into this new series. Basically, I've lost the creativity/will to write interesting things about my own life and have to resort to the esoteric, somewhat satirical world of video game mockery. Basically, this is a direct continuation on the How to Get Luigi and Pilot Power Master Steel Crush HeliCyrus RazorClaw Cerebros genre.

Krooper, the young Koopa guard new on the job, paced the length of the room nervously. Even in the dark room, it was hard not to notice the chalky outlines of the bodies in front of him. Bodies squirming in fear, in desperation, wondering if they'll ever see the light of day again. Through his low-quality night-vision goggles he could plainly see the mouth of Princess Peach flapping away, her snobby, girly cries of protest muffled only by the earmuffs he had remembered to bring after the third time they kidnapped Peach. All around Peach, bound to seperate chairs, were variously colored Toads, squirming, but silent. Damn Bowser for insisting he bind Peach "gentler" than the rest.
Krooper was tense. Their interrogation of Peach had yielded the information that Mario was on his way. He wasn't sure how Bowser would take the news. Not to mention Luigi had escaped his captivity in Boo's Mansion with nothing but a fucking vaccuum cleaner. Pursued by guards, he'd fled to the dead-end courtyard, and managed to carve "L is the real 2041" into the fountain. Krooper wasn't going to tell Bowser that, the King would probably kill him for just knowing teh secret.
Refusing surrender, Luigi had been shot and killed on sight, and his corpse was now lying in an ice vault next to Krooper. There was no way the secret of the key would be discovered.

Mario's here. God, why doesn't Bowser just leave the castle with Peach? Great idea, let's just stay here where Mario is. he's only kicked our ass 5 times before...

-OSK

Epic...EPIC

Calamari, Bitch

2007-12-12T17:06:00.000-08:00

Shine Count: 17
Blue Coin Count: 30

So we wimped out on the Bianco Hills 100 coin star. Usually I wouldn't allow this to happen, but the course is so miserably devoid of coins that the prospect is appalling. I mean, if you thought Dire, Dire Docks was a bitch of a 100 coin star, you haven't ever played Sunshine. A bunch of the coins are obtained only by doing random poop like spraying the doors of houses. Indeed, I often find that money pours from the threshold of my house when I douse it with a hose. Haha, many less-than-classy puns have come from the FLUDD water pack Mario squirts everything with (supersoaking Peach). In any case, we just endured some Shines which were a real pain, so I'm going to use that as justification for wimping out.

Koops has resorted to conspiracy theories fo why he's fallen.

You'd think Bowser would incorporate a level without water in it, given that without water Mario would be screwed. Then again, Bowser's never been the smartest fellow, what with him putting Stars and Shines in accessible locations instead of within "the walls" of the castle/island. I never got that, actually. I mean, we hardcore 64ers know that castle inside and out. There is no place where Bowser could have put a door into secret rooms in the castle that we wouldn't know. Well, I guess those doors could be outside of the playing field of the game, but the area surrounding Peach's castle appears to be completely ocean. Bowser worked nautics into his kidnapping plan? Maybe the guy's smarter than we give him credit for. Nah, he's probably just holding Peach and co. in the black room of death (More on that later).

And by the way, TTBM says there's no way we're beating Galaxy in our time span. Let's show him.

Oh, and since when does Donald Duck tell "That's what she said" jokes?

Musical stylings tonight: Rage Against the Machine (Evil Empire) and State Radio (YOTC). On the topic of these culturally relevant bands , I've been taking much pleasure in dropping lyric quotes in History class and trying to pass them off as legitimate contributions to the conversations ("Well Mike, it's because we'ev got bombs,a nd they;ve got barrels of gasoline" and "It's like a bullet in our heads" (I'm suprised no one caught the blatnt nature of that one. Maybe someone did and they just dislike Rage. Hilariously, I actually had a classmate tell me they were suprised to see that I listened to "Satan music" after they saw "Bulls on Parade. Dude, that's something old people say about political music. I guess the angelic OSK image from a few years back has stuck. In any case, video game marathons are good to rock out to.

Which brings up the topic of "Breaking the Habit", a post I almost made before I remembered I ahd to write a huge chunk of my English paper. The "habit" is slow music, and I've sworn it off this winter, and perhaps, beyond. I'm not talking about slow Dispatch, singing about Zimbabwean kidsand Old Man River, I'm talking about love songs. Last year I immersed myself in the likes of "Train" and "Matchbox Twenty". Solid groups, sure, but they tore me apart. I've come to realize that at my core I am a rocker, and to allow myself to be enveloped in the dreary sadness of winter is a self-betrayal that I will not torment myself with again.

"Mystery of the Tower" for Koops is definitely analogous to my exploits in Snowball Valley with silver coins. Which is to say we're probably making the same mistake over and over again without realizing it. I think he's taken a liking to the hover function of the FLUDD ho-supersoaker because he's so used to having the immortalization of eternal-jump Kirby. He insists it's ironic because he's bad with it. He always had a problem supersoaking. Ooooooh, might need some supersuchering for that BURN. Yeah, i know that doesn't make sense; shut up.

-OSK

Gooper Bdooder Blooper TBooper...Whatever, the Blooper's back!

Zero Day

2007-12-12T11:15:00.000-08:00

First off, this game has the lamest plot ever. I don't so much have a problem with the really long intro, but the plot itself is actually pretty bad. I mean, clean up pollution? Since when is Ralph Nader funding Nintendo for propoganda?

Oh, and just so you all know, the "chap stick" was the holiday soap a neighbor gave us. Anticlimatic, I know, but whatever. Koops is currently failing at the water pack. He blames it on inexperience. Now he's screwing up jumping. I'm pretty sure that was in 64.

Now he's blowing at special levels. I'm a little worried about how he and J_V will adjust to the Wii Mote (Or how I will adjust.)

Though I don't mean to make fun of Koops. It is pretty easy (2 game overs thus far on one shine sprite).

Now he's picking up speed again, though.

***************

Just finished another 6 stars. Now I remember why I love Mario.

Another query: What's with the palm trees indoors? I didn't think we were playing Halo...

Josh is suddenly kicking ass at wallkicking. Analogous to my never kicking ovber the wooden plank in Womp's fortress- he doesn't have to, but it looks way more badass. I've decided this game is in teh same vein as Diddy kong, as it too is a game filled with cute characters and sunny environments, but is considerably more difficult than the usual Nintendo games. Then again, Mario IS the usual Mario game, wjat with him being the mascot.

Oh, and the special levels appear to eb suspended in outer space, an outer space which has outlines of railroad tracks in the back...What? Come to think of it, the idea for Galaxy is kinda just a recycling of the "mystery" Sunshine levels. Except with gravity.

This must be coming off with the coherency of a middle-of the night post (How are these posts going to be in the middle of the night?).

Oh, and redemption. This is awesome because I'm redeeming teh pathetic OSK/J_Verts "Wind Waker" shame.

For redemption.

-OSK

That's what he said?

The Goofy Glass

2007-12-07T19:04:00.000-08:00

Weird things happen; life is full of weird occurrences. Women have octuplets, people discover they’re married to their half-sister, alien abductions occur. Astounding, never seen before, thought-provoking. But every once in a while something happens that makes all of that seem run-o-the-mill, that seems to dupe all other mysteries. I have just lived such an occurrence.
There is chap stick in my orange juice. When my lips touch the rim of the glass, I am overcome by that glossy scent, the memories of cold mornings before elementary school when my lips would chap to cracking. The juice itself has less of a trace of the substance, but its presence is undeniable. I am left to wonder how, and most importantly, why?
I’ve given up drinking the stuff. Far as my common sense tells me, drinking chap stick is not the best call. Yet I cannot bring myself to dump it down the sink, flush the problem away like some tick I’ve condemned to death in the toilet. This is far too intriguing- It is not possible that a chap-stick wearing person would have sipped from this cup and replaced it in the cupboard; these glasses came straight from the wash.
Could it be my imagination? I do have a thing about smells. They seem to stay with me. In third grade I had a copy of the First “Chronicles of Narnia” book (The Magician’s Nephew?). It’s cover smelled like…Well, I can only describe it as “rotten barbecue sauce”, though I don’t believe sauce can rot. Just for the record, I don’t believe I stuck my nose against the book, it was just so unpleasantly pungent that the scent struck me during every read.
Throughout a good portion of the rest of my childhood, I was plagued by this smell. It frequently visited me when I played “Cartoon Network Snowmobile Racer” with others during indoor recess (Weird, I know), and sometimes it would come upon me at completely random moments.
But I have never been plagued by the smell of chap stick. And now that I have left the glass here for several minutes, the smell is filling the room, and growing in intensity. Perhaps solving this mystery should be forgone for the sake of avoiding scental scarring once again.

Whose idea was it anyaway to turn Welch's Jam Jars with Disney characters on them into glasses?

Bftsoaws
(Blogging for the sake of a weird smell)

-OSK

The blood is on your hands
You’ve got it on your feet
Your fist is in the air
And somewhere in between

Review: The Tooth of Crime

2007-12-05T19:29:00.000-08:00

I finally have something more to say about the works of Sam Shepard. After finding my copy of Sam Shepard's "Seven Plays" collection the other day, I have had the pleasure of reading his musical "The Tooth of Crime" and revisiting a personal favorite play of mine, "True West".
Let me just say that "True West" is a gem. It is basically what inspired (or rather, helped me discover) my love for isolationsit writing. In a nutshell, it is about two brothers, the younger one a civilized screenwriter on the brink of Hollywood fame, and the older a brutish personality who does not interact with society. The older brother is, in every sense, a parasite; He has no home and lives off of the good nature of friends. When he's not doing that, he's either staying alive by stealing small aplliances such as toasters and TVs from homes or dissappearing into the desert for long periods of time. The two brothers are staying together in their mother's house (the older uninvited), and over the course of a few days the reader (viewer) sees them go from content with (and possibly enjoying) one another's company to attempting to kill one another. Throughout the course of the show, both characters' insecurities and shortcomings are showcased as they lose all control.
You can probably see some similarities with my writing in here: A few characters interacting in a fixed set away from society and, without a very profound catalyst, changing drastically because of the exposure of one another's flaws. "Live with a man for forty years. Eat your meals with him, share your time with him. Then, take him to the volcano's edge and hang him over it. On that day, you will meet the real man." I don't know whose quote that is, I only remember it from "Firefly". Maybe they made it up. In any case, Shepard disputes this quite quickly in his writings, as he demonstrates how severe human insecurities are and how delicate human relations are.
To him, however, this drastic progression does not need to be the result of the years of familiarity that brothers have. In "The Tooth of Crime" it is two rock stars (Shepard's modern cowboys), one a big stud knocking on the doors of the fame the likes of Dylan and Hendrix attained, and a no name sent by one of the big-timer's (Hoss) rivals. The plot is simple: The rockers live by a code in which no rocker can overtake a city which another has claimed. However, this code is beginning to be broken left and right, and Hoss does not know what to do. He is unwilling to go against everything he has learned. he is essentially an old man in a world of wild youth (though he is actually quite young). One of Hoss' rivals sends this no-name to duel with Hoss to the death (apparently a tradition in "the game"). Knives are soon abandoned, however,a s the the duel becomes a battle of words.
The second act is quite strange, as it focuses on this duel, in which a "Referee" scores them on what are essentially burns as they verbally attack each other to music. This ismade even more alien by their jargon. "Can't get it sideways walkin' the dog. Tries trainin' his voice to sound like a frog...Fear that he's crackin' busted in two. Bustin' in three parts. Bustin' in four. Bustin' and dyin' and cryin' for more" goes one insult.
But at the core of the play lies the question of what someone's role in the world is. We're all only here to be replaced, times change, codes of conduct change, jargon changes. Suddenly you can't keep up with the kids, and you thought you were one. It's almost a tale of growing older, metaphorically told in an hour plus timespan. What does Shepard seem to dictate is the answer? Hoss takes his own life. So the world keeps turning, you gotta go with the flow, and when you're out of the game you may as well be dead. When the peak of your life is over, your life is over. But the entire play is filled with backhanded tactics- Lying, harassing, bribery, all to win the game. So maybe if you don't break the code to start with, you got some class on the other clowns. Maybe respect makes you King.

-OSK

The result is displayed on the home screen; it shows that five percent of the women are taller than 175.5 centimetres.

Happy December 4th (A Thanks to HOVA)

2007-12-04T18:29:00.000-08:00

While his albums never truly seduced our ears, the combination of his innovative flows with DJ Danger Mouse's angelic beats won us over immediately. "Public Service Announcement", "Encore", "99 Problems", "Dirt Off Your Shoulder", all great mash-ups. And while his works have mostly died out within the triangle, I feel the need to give him a shout-out (which he will never hear) on this, the day of his birth (Also the namesake for one of his weakest flows, but this is supposed to be a thank you). While I don't believe in a lot of the abstract ideas we use in English class, imagery is definitely an important part of my life, especially with music. It seems that every album I have brings about a certain image from my life. For "The Grey Album", it's Mario going up the outside of the pyramid during "Shining Atop the Pyramid" with "Public Service Announcement" playing. It's one of those albums that hold special nostalgic value for me.

Just a reminder that my blog is NOT about video games (for 8 more days), though I constantly mention them. Just kidding, it really is about video games.

But on the musical note (punular), I’ve recently realized something about my developing music tastes. I believe the reason that my tastes have strayed from the likes of Jay-Z and LP is because I'm actually getting more involved with the messages and themes of lyrics. Weird, I know. Suddenly I'm not content to listen to music that obviously has no feeling in it, and is just a good beat with good vocals. Linkin Park was my first step towards this- While they're lyrics are raw, unoriginal, and virtually meaningless in the context of the band, I went to them because of they offered more extreme emotions than other bands, and thus were more interesting. But behind these emotions was nothing, it was just scream to scream. Which is fun sometimes. But one reason I really like State Radio (and really like a handful of Rage songs) is that there is actually significance to what's being said. It's not the same old crap about love that we've heard a million times to. Somehow, even though we're being force-fed the same love spiels over and over, we still revel in it like the media wants us to (Bullets in our heads?) I'm not denying that many love songs are musically satisfying as far as beat and instrumentals go, but eventually I came to realize that I took almost no pleasure in singing along to them. The same goes for shallow themes of sex and drugs (Jay-Z, and the rap generation he spawned). I'm not saying these aren't legitimate subjects (Actually, I sorta am saying that about sex and drugs), but they've been beat to death.
So why is political music any different? Well, on the surface it has major differences just because of the vocabulary used (gone are the days of albums riddled with personal pronouns "need", "want", "love", and other cliché words, and in are "The capital is crowded with effigies", "what we don't know keeps the contracts alive and moving", and my favorite “No battleship too big for your war emporium/ It's give it all ya got son, and go back to where you're from/ We're hiding in the weeks, we're the super neocons/ 'Cuz we got bombs, and they got BARRELS of gasoline". Okay, honestly the only reason I wrote that whole thing out was to unnecessarily rub the "barrels" thing in Koop's face again.
In any case, political music is far more interesting, for while it maintains the same themes of rebellion and disappointment, its content drastically changes over short periods of time (Rage lines like "More For Gore or the son of a drug lord", referencing the 2000 election, and SR's "Guantanamo"). In this case I believe being dated is a good thing, it allows for the genre of political music to constantly evolve as the world changes, and in retrospect the dated songs still hold meaning and important themes. Needless to say, politics change a bit more often than love. The political horse is far from being dead, and much further from being beat.
I realize that most people will retort that the way music sounds is the only important part, but recently I've felt like a mindless zombie listening to love songs, as they seem so superficial. It's actually weird, because all of the political music I listen to (not much, unfortunately) is drastically liberal, and I don't usually share its opinions. But it is intellectually stimulation nonetheless. So if you like music just for the way it sounds, cool. I'm just personally on a rant about it (Also, it may just be that love songs find no meaning until you're smitten, but they haven't worked for me in my times of smittenness).

Wow, that was a terrible Thanks to Jay-Z. Oh well, my other plan was to write my own version of "December 4th" with pretend quotes from my mother about my childhood, but me writing a rap would not turn out well. Be thankful. In any case, you rock, HOVA.

So apparently SCUMM and my good friends Guybrush Threepwood, Elaine, LeChuck and gang are now on the iPhone in some weird mini-game or something. It still doesn't make me want an iPhone, but it makes me miss my Monkey terribly. MI5 soon, please? Or at least start working on it.

With some adjective,

OldSchoolKlingon

MMMMMM...Look at that bacon sizzle!

Rare is Loco

2007-12-03T12:28:00.001-08:00

Of course, we already knew this, what with Diddy Kong Racing being a layered, seemingly never-ending endeavor. But the level to which they are crazy (brilliant) is even depthier than we imagined.
This post pretty much goes against everything I said about Banjo Kazooie in the last post; I don’t actually have that much against the game, I just think it’s the best game to make fun of, what with it being about a bear with a bird in his packpack who fights ugly runts of enemies and collects golden jigsaw pieces so as to defeat an evil witch. Oh yeah, and the game’s equivalent of Toad is a fat, short-sighted mole named Bottles. So yeah, pretty much prime mocking material.
In any case, it was a half decent game. However, in traditional Rare style, it was also an evil, mean game. Not in the way of Diddy Kong, mind you, where they lure in children with fuzzy woodland creature characters and then pound out their hopes of there being good in the world by making the game mercilessly hard. While still involving a cast of cute creatures, Banjo Kazooie is actually a rather easy game if you just want to defeat Gruntilda (the equivalent of the Final Bowser) without getting 100 jigsaws (I refuse to call them “Jiggies”). However, Rare has a habit of making games go far beyond the seeming end of the game (Future Fun Land, Adventure 2), and Banjo was no exception.
Seeing as I am likely the only one among us who has ever played Banjo Kazooie/Tooie, I’ll take a moment to detail the scenario so you, too, can appreciate the revelations I have recently have.
Banjo Kazooie was of the generation of N64 games directly based of Mario 64. It follows the formula invented by the N64 platformer: One huge playing field (once again a castle, albeit a much less loveable, asthaetically pleasing one) in which several sub-worlds are contained, and in each sub-world there are a handful of Jigsaws (stars) which can be found. Several Jigsaws (Stars) can also be found in Gruntilda’s (Peach’s) lair (castle).
One of these subworlds is beach-themed, and in one part of the sub-world is a sand castle. Upon entering the sand castle, Banjo finds that the floor is made up of tiles, each with a letter on it (there are many repeating letters for convenience). As I recall, one of the Jigsaws in that particular sub-world involved a character telling you a code, which you ground-pounded (ground-pounded) in proper sequence, opening a cage at the back of the room which held a Jigsaw. Many of us took this Jigsaw to be the sand castle’s sole purpose, and went on with our lives (meaning the rest of the game).
Later in the game is a snow-based sub-world. In this sub-world is a cave which a walrus resides in. There is another, smaller cave opening in the wall. When you enter, you see a key made of ice right in front of you. It is huge, and therefore, by the laws of video games, must be important. You walk forward, but meet an impenetrable glass wall. America utters it’s first “WTF?” of Banjo Kazooie.Bummer.
Now, let’s say you get all 100 Jigsaws in the game. Apparently, Mumbo Jumbo (A Wizard-esque character) then shows you the location of two huge eggs that you should find in the game. If you do so, nothing happens. America utters its second “What the Fuck?” of Banjo Kazooie.

Jump to Banjo Tooie. About halfway through the game, you encounter a large vault made of ice with a KEY HOLE. There is NO WAY to open this vault. America is pissed off. Apparently, N64s retain the memory of the game you were just playing for 60 seconds after the game is turned off. The rumor was that N64 had created a “Stop ‘N Swop” in Banjo Kazooie, a point at which you could, if you had the ice key (How?), turn off your N64, insert Tooie, and have the ice key. This rumor was completely unfounded back in 2002, when I played the games.

Then I found this last night.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=wrjQ_yLT1-U

Let me explain what you just saw. Prior to the beginning of this video, this player had gone to the sand castle and entered the code “NOWYOUCANSEEANICEICEKEYWHICHYOUCANHAVEFORFREE”
This code was not known when I played the game, not given in guides, and is noticeably long. How could someone have guessed it? Someone at Rare must’ve slipped.
After entering this code, the sheet of glass in the walrus cave disappeared, and the key was theirs.
Next, the eggs. Mumbo shows you two at the end of the game, but these two do nothing. Why? Because Rare was a pest and made six eggs appear at the end of the game, and only told you about two. We see this gamer get all of the eggs, and miraculously find the “Stop ‘N Swop” given the vague clues like “in the castle”. They turn off the game when told to, and insert Tooie. There is an error.

At this point, Rare announced that their idea to transfer the key and eggs to Tooie was true, but that Nintendo shot it down when Tooie was made, so while there was a “Stop ‘N Swop” in Kazooie, the transfer in the end was futile. However, Rare was trying to pull a fast one on us. Here is a video of Banjo Tooie, irrefutable proof of the key and eggs transfer.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=biND6aRmBu8&feature=related

Okay, I’m really immature to have enjoyed that, but whatever. The truth is the idea really was canned in Tooie production. But the intricacy of Banjo Kazooie is astounding, and secrets that take years to discover (especially with all the gamer geeks out there in the world) are evidence of devoted designers. I guess this’ll inevitably be a game soon to appear in my “epically revisited games”, and maybe I’ll have to go against my ways and finish the insufferably boring DK64 (Video game slut?).

So maybe Luigi is in 64.

Just kidding.

On the Family Guy note, I love the expression on Stewie’s face whenever he’s in a shot, and two other people are having a conversation in front of him. The artists make no effort to make it look like he is mentally present, he’s just staring off, eyelids half-closed. Check it out sometime.

-OSK

Rock and Roll Jesus With A Cowboy Mouth

How to Get Luigi in Mario 64

2007-12-02T14:21:00.000-08:00

This is a very complicated process. However, I have tested it myself and it is 100% reliable. After trying the toilet tactic, I was discouraged. I thought, though, that if the creator of that theory were right about Luigi coming from a shithole, he may be found in the game Banjo Kazooie. Have patience and I, Pilot Power Master Stee- Er, I mean, OSK, guarantee you will find Luigi.
Turn on Banjo Kazooie, and start a file under the name of Nicolas Cage. After the intro video, head directly to the garden with the dancing vegetables. Kill one carrot, then 2 broccoli, then two carrots, and the vegetables will suddenly follow you wherever you go. Next, proceed to run around the mountain Eleventeen thousand times. The vegetables will start to dance with each other. The vegetables will then tell you the location of the secret passage into the witch's lair. The passage will take you to the ice key. Also in the room will be Diddy Kong. He is a good friend of yours, but he is still wearing the belly shirt, so you ignore him. Now, get ready. The moment you touch the ice key, slam the Banjo Tooie cartridge into the N64, obliterating the Banjo Kazooie cartridge. You now have approximately a minute and a half before your N64 explodes, so get to the Ice Vault quickly. Open it, and you will find a hologram of Luigi saying "Help me Banjo Kazooie, you're my only hope.
Now, your N64 has undoubtedly killed someone by now due to the overheating which has occurred from shards of Banjo Kazooie being in its electronics, so buy a new one. Before you take it home, take it to whoever sold you your supscription to "Highlights" magazine, and have them give their blessing. If you do not subscribe to "Highlights", this will not work.
Now you are ready for the final stage. Insert Super Mario 64 into your new, blessed N64 and find 307 and a half coins in Dire, Dire Docks. The ice key will drop out of midair. Take it to the black room of death. You will find it inescapable. Now cry, for you have wasted your time, and finding Luigi only works for those who have lives, which you obviously do not.

Once again, I have tried this and it is absolutely flawless. I give you my word.

-I, Pilot Power Master Steel Crush Heli- Er, OSK

That's not cool, he ripped of the toilet joke. How unoriginal.

Crescent Island=Sweet

2007-12-02T11:36:00.000-08:00

First allow me to proudly introduce DrK's new blog, "Cut Down on the Alfredo Sauce", URL whatswiththebeesuit.blogspot.com (Also located now on my side-bar). This brainchild is a concept blog, focusing on our soon-to-occur adventures in mass videogaming. It's full of ancient (1980s Donkey Kong) jokes you won't get and references to characters you've never heard of; what's not to love?
In the spirit of blogs being born and withering, I was rereading some old "Breakfast With Friends" and "Seventh Notion" posts last night, pathetically realizing that I remember, in crystal quality, all of the inside jokes which have been made and slipped away in the last couple of years. What really interested me, though, were the comments that we left on these posts, as they show the different dynamics of the friend group as things went on. I laughed when I got to the one post J_Verts made where I sent him about 4 angry comments, and deleted them all in embarassment, only to learn that all of those comments were in his email...Awkward. Also, I love when the occassional anonymous user comments on one of our posts, taking our humor much too seriously, and the rest of us are left wondering "Who the hell was that?"
The posts themselves were quite interesting, as I noticed a definite increase in quality of my and J_Verts blogging skill as time went on. Gradually, gone were the days of blogging about how we didn't have anything to blog about and why we wonder why we have a blog anyway, and suddenly we were having fun with it, noticeably anyway.
I have to give J_Verts props, at this point, for initiating the blogging craze in the friend group. It has proved to be an excellent means of communication now that many of us are apart, and even when we weren't it was endlessly (Okay, mildly) amusing.
Now, I know starting a blog doesn't require a ton of work, actually, it is often the product of being too lazy to do other, more productive things. Nevertheless, it has gotten me thinking about the effort required to start something. One thing that made me quite sad while I read our past posts (I didn't read all of them, by the way, I'm not that much of a loser/ have that much time on my hands) was the number of times we came up with epic plans (Road trip?) and then quickly watched it fall through the cracks. I was talking to Donald Duck (the guy some of us know who quacks) the other day, and he said something that really epitomized all of my lost ambitions. " I can stand up in front of the business and make promise after promise. I can have all the ideas in the world, and they'll love me for it. But eventually, they come to me and say 'Mr. [Duck], where's everything you promised us?' You (Referring to me) might be a conceptual guy, but it's the execution that matters when push comes to shove". And it's the execution that I never provide. So, then, I challenge myself- This summer, do the play thing. And I will, because even if it crashes and burns, I'll feel ten times better than if I'd put it off until it was too late.

Determined and Crazed,

-OSK

Timba got owned...But 5 more T.T.s down!

Don't save it for another day.

A World Of Green (Journal Entry #1 of Pilot Power Master Steel Crash HeliCyrus RazorClaw Cerebros)

2007-12-01T08:22:00.000-08:00

I awake. Cold steel curdles the blood gushing from my wounded forehead. I use my totallysuperawesome biceps to hoist myself up and grab the pilot's chair. The room spins, I fear I may keel over again, but use the seatback for support, and instead vomit all over the body on the floor. Body? I hadn't noticed that before. I'm heartbroken to discover that my co-pilot, but suppress my misery so as to assess my situation. The inside of the copter looks to be completely unharmed, puzzling, as the trauma to my head suggests that we'd collided with something. Maybe we were just thrown around a lot.
Before I, Pilot Power Master Steel Crash HeliCyrus RazorClaw Cerebros, go on, perhaps I should go back a bit. Maybe it'll help me fill in the blanks.
I was flying a mission across the ocean with Co-Pilot Redshirt. The Anti-England-Wrestler-Transformer rebels known as the "Bad Guys" had been bombing our English Wrestler-Transformer descendant military camps for some time. As far as we know, these attacks were completely uninstigated. I, Pilot Power Master Steel Crash HeliCyrus RazorClaw Cerebros, have no idea why they would house so much hate against the descendants of the Gods, the English Wrestler-Transformers. Not knowing where the rebels came from or who they were, my commanding officer assigned me, Pilot Power Master Steel Crash HeliCyrus RazorClaw Cerebros, and my co-pilot captain Redshirt, to pursue their fighters after they attempted to attack our weapons arrays. We (Myself, Pilot Power Master Steel Crash HeliCyrus RazorClaw Cerebros, and my co-pilot) followed them into the Bermuda Triangle, where our sensor readings became skewed and incoherent. I assume that this was the result of some jamming by the Anti-England-Wrestler-Transformer Rebels (The Bad Guys), as they would likely need to use backhanded tactics to thwart a member of the famous RazorClaw Cerebros family, especially one of the rank Pilot Power Master Steel Crush. My co-pilot believed that it was the result of the mysterious happenings of the Bermuda Triangle as told in legend, but I, Pilot Power Master Steel Crush HeliCyrus RazorClaw Cerebros, do not believe in such things. At this time there was a large commotion, the copter spun out of control, there was a flash of bright light, and I awoke.
Having recalled these events, I do not feel that I have uncovered any more truths. I now go over to the front of the copter, where everything seems to be in order. Suddenly I freeze in astonishment, for out the windshield I see something so surreal that even I, Pilot Power Master Steel Crush HeliCyrus RazorClaw Cerebros, cannot comprehend it. For beyond the glass lies a gaping blackness, rivaled only by the solid see of lime green which lies below and above me. Managing to come back to my senses, I, Pilot Power Master Steel Crush HeliCyrus RazorClaw Cerebros, attempt to get the navigation system working, but the screen only reads Distance: 0. Best: 2995. Click and hold the throttle to go up. Release to go down. Click to start. I am perplexed, the copter seems to be suspended in midair, though the motor is not on. I use the radio to try to make contact with someone, but to no avail. The controls call to me, I have no other choice, unless I plan to die taking no action. I, Pilot Power Master Steel Crush HeliCyrus RazorClaw Cerebros, start the engine. My finger hovers over the throttle. I press it, and my distance on the screen increases as I progress forward. I see a block of the green mass at Distance 39. I think I should avoid it.

-Pilot Power Master Steel Crush HeliCyrus RazorClaw Cerebros

OSK's doing okay, too.

An Actor Among Musicians/ Winter Wonder Why

2007-11-30T09:17:00.000-08:00

12 days, 30 days
Yesterday was the first music-oriented rehearsal of this year's Dramat foray into the silly world of musical theater. I consider it a gift from a higher power that the dance teachers couldn't get their act together enough to actually hold dance auditions like last year, as the audition would no doubt prove to be a disaster for me again. Given the chance to cast me now, I believe the dance teachers would probably give me the role of Asssistant Assistant Stage Manager (That's code for cut). You see, it's apparently not bad enough that I suck at dancing, but I am the only person in the cast who does. While everyone stage-fell UL, I decided UR would be great, and when we were supposed to slowly trudge across the stage (a fairly simple move), I once again decided to move against the current of dancers. It really is just directional problems, though honestly I think we all kinda look like morons.
It's always puzzled me why people enjoy seeing musicals. The acting is exaggerated; all of the characters are sterotypical, 2-dimensional cardboard cutouts of people who feel love, anger, and despair exactly when predicted. And rarely do you ever find a popular musical with actual substance as far as plot goes, because once again, it seems to be cliche after cliche. And then of course, the dancing. The only real reason I can see people going to musicals for is the singing, but showtunes have never been my cup of tea.
So why do I go out for musicals? I love to act, and fool myself into thinking that there will be any substancial acting in the show. Sure, I've got a respectable amount of lines, but within those lines lies no more character than could be held in a thimble (No bigger than a thimble, but still plenty good AAAAA, It's okay). The point is, as I face yet another winter, I am once again reminded of how much I dislike everything about the season.
No sport worth playing, a dramat production that always dissapoints yet I can't stay away from, and of course the bleakness of the season. I never really understood why some people like winter. All of my pleasurable senses seem to be canned and muted. Congestion forbids smell, numbness touch, my eyes don't want to see the blanket of white which has deteriorated into a half-snow, half-mud eyesore, and I don't feel that I have anything to focus on save for school (Ew). All I can say is, I hope my hobbies can keep me going until March.

-OSK

Holy crap, that still says "There's A Man On the Wing".

The Meaning of Life (A Reimagining)

2007-11-29T09:11:00.000-08:00

I think we can all agree that, at least to a slight degree (In my opinion to a fairly radical one) I have changed a bit as a person since Tuesday, June 13, 2006. This has certainly been reflected in my blogging, which I'd like to say has increased in quality, and hopefully in intrigue (This wouldn't be a huge feat, as I'm fairly sure my original posts had about the level of intrigue of a zombie lemon ( endlessly amusing, but definitely embarassing in retrospect...Wait, who am I kidding? The zombie lemon was awesome). I find it interesting that something that started so crumby, a place where I could simply make jokes with my friends, give them shout outs, and be weird, has managed to develop into a place where I can actually write my thoughts, while still goofing around with you guys (Because that's really the important part, isn't it?). I just had somewhat of a realization that this is an issue of depth developing from shallowness; talk about a one-track mind. But after I've brought up the idea of isolation time and time again since that one post, I fear I may've killed it to some degree. Okay, I never could really kill it since it's so awesome, but it didn't make for good post diversity. Thus, I'm not going to cram this Sam Shepard philosophy down your throat again until I actually have something good to say about it. Wow, digression.
In any case, I'd like to change my established views on the meaning of life, and, consequently, the mentality which is Peace, Love, and Star Trek (the idea, not the blog). My stated pupose in my original post was to spread hope regarding unity in the world, through the philosophy of Peace, Love, and Star Trek (Star Trek being representative of togetherness). But as my blog has matured, it has strayed from its original didactic intent, and focuses on my perception of the world. And if that helps you, great. If you hate my writing, fine. If you're just in it for the occasional laugh, cool, thats awesome. But don't think I'm in here with some higher agenda anymore. Really, I'm just here to chill.

-OSK

Only signing his name once.

-OSK

So Much For No Grand Metaphors

2007-11-28T19:34:00.000-08:00

It could be said that the youth of America are shallow and unappreciative of true literary art, for the likes of visually stunning and sexually titillating material has become the main appeal for many of them to watch television or catch a movie. Many would argue that it is so often the case that a teenager buys his way into a flick just so that he may see a gorey torture scene or attractive actress, only to find that he’s also accidentally stumbled upon a literarily respectable plot with engaging characters as well. This may not even be exclusive to youth, as I’ve seen many a thirty-year-old (Okay, a few) with mouths agape in a blast-filled action movie. So is it a good thing that such bait is being used, as it is the only way to stimulate some people’s minds with a layered story? Well, I’m not really terribly interested in discussing that. My point, really, is that this cycle of dangling the shallow themes of plots (Examples being special affects and sex appeal, both of which are immediately visually rewarding, but don’t have the lasting rewarding effect that good stories do) is something which is generally frowned upon. It’s come to be known as selling out.
I used to agree with this idea, the notion that authors and directors and playwrights even, go for a cheap sell. But as I research the playwright/actor Sam Shepard, and think of his life and works in relation to the script that I plan on getting on its feet in the coming days, I am beginning to see that this “soft sell” is more an idea, an image, which captures an idea in the writer’s head.
I hope you’re still with me here; I know I don’t always make the most sense ever. But I have recently come to a realization: All of my more layered story ideas stem not from themes of human being, nor from delves into the psyche, but rather from shallow ideas. J-Verts and Koops know that my most recent story idea does have fairly developed characters. They are not completely fleshed out, but they are a start, and I would like to think that they are promising building blocks for a solid two-act play. Their interaction is somewhat compelling, filled with deceit towards one another and inward deceit, as well as reluctant affections which ultimately make the fruition of the plot all the more unbearable for those involved. I think I can safely call the plot as it is right now not shallow without sounding full of myself.
However, it did not start like this. My entire idea stemmed from “How cool would it be if 3 thieves robbed the same house, and like, clashed?” I was not so much interested in the characters as I was in their conflict. I was enthralled, like a child, in pure violence of three thieves pitted against one another. Only the actual act of outlining the plot brings about any sense of character in my stories. The characters come about, not by my choice, but by necessity. For, unfortunately, a play rarely happens well without characters. Because I did not plan for these characters to be in the plot, they are completely new to me when my pen touches paper, and I see them as if I were an audience with no previous knowledge. On this subject I then leave you with no didactic instruction or broad, intelligent connection, but rather a question: Can depth spring from shallowness? Does depth only ever spring from shallowness?
On the topic of Shepard, I do hold hope that my methods are tried and true, though not tried by me. A particular quote of his resonated with me: “…I don’t want to be a playwright, I want to be a rock and roll star. I want that understood right off…Writing is neat because you do it on a very physical level. Just like rock and roll. A lot of people think playwrights [have] special answers to special problems that confront the world at large. I think that’s a crock of shit. When you write a play you work out like a musician on a piece of music. You find all the rythyms and the melodies and the harmonies and take them as they come.

So much for theory.”

The level at which I relate to these statements is chilling to me. Shepard was fascinated by cliches such as cowboys and rock stars. He wrote handfuls of plays about modern or authentic cowboys, milking the idea of the showdown for all it was worth. In the way I was fascinated with clashing robbers, so I believe Shepard had been enveloped in his childhood fantasies of gunslinging outcasts who had a way with women and a quick draw for whoever wanted to meet him at high noon. Yet from these cliches he drew revolutionary characters and stories. I have had a long-time dream of being in a rock band someday. And not a band like you see mostly- One vocalist, one guitarist, one bassist, one drummer. I want to be in a band where everyone can do all of that and does do all of that. I want a band which is perfect blending.
Such is the nature of my ideal play. No character stands out as serving a particular role in the story, all are there to be the story, because the story turns out the same every time, and no matter how many bass intros or guitar and drum solos you have, the same song is being played the whole time. And the end of a play, just like when I get to the end of “Right Me Up” or “Flying Horses” is something brilliantly pretty and unexpected, but at the same time it all makes sense and you just see that it just couldn’t end any other way.

That would’ve been a great ending line…but I’ve got more to say.

Rockers jam, How do you jam as a playwright? You do what Sam Shepard did- You write plays literally by the dozen, you don’t rewrite unless you damn well feel like it, and you just keep writing until your whole life story is written out in your plays, told through different characters, and until everything that you ever wondered about is wondered about in every possible way by your choice cast. I agree that those “special answers” are a “crock of shit”. Good playwrights don’t try to fix the world at large, they try to fix their world, their person. And if someone in the audience wants to take that to mean we should pull out of Vietnam, good for them, the tool I used to clean my conscience is your tool for stopping bloodshed.
Most importantly, what I said about characters emerging to me for the first time is exactly what Shepard is saying about the melodies and rythyms emerging,and letting them emerge as they will. It’s like when the ancients invented the Pegasus Replicators- You build some little monomers, and before you know it you’ve got a beautiful city you hadn’t ever pictured.

Your frustrated musician,

-OSK

Except that it wouldn't be a city full of human-forms who wnated to kill you.

-OSK

It’s official- Live blogging will occur for both Sunshine and Galaxy. Likely hourly updates, so as to create a disgusting and completely unappealing (in its enormity) mass of posts. 14 days, and 32 days.

-OSK

The forty minutes spent on this post could’ve been better applied to my homework. Oh well.

-OSK

Sharkbelly jelly. Heh.

No Turning Back Now?

2007-11-25T18:53:00.000-08:00

It got pushed aside, I let it go.
As J_Verts has done, I apologize for abandoning our could've-been epic quest. I'm a bit ashamed, as this video game-blogging thing has been a fantasy of mine for some time. In a way, it would be concrete evidence of one of my epic feats. In the Wind Waker, I have made a mockery of this. Oh well, let's all forget about this, and maybe Koops and I will do the real thing during Sunshine or Majora.

In embrassament, your pre- mutation Klingon.

I hope you know, I hope you know
That this has nothing to do with you
It's personal, myself and I
We've got some straightening out to do
And I'm gonna miss you like a child misses his blanket
But I've got to get a move on with my life
And big girls don't cry

Legend of Zelda: The Wind Waker (Part 1)

2007-11-24T17:54:00.000-08:00

I ws about to say that this is the least tedious Forsaken Fortress I've ever done, but just then J_Verts got nailed by one of the guards and we got confined to a cell once again. It's annoying how these games put such annoying first levels in, onlyto have enjoyable, quality levels amke up the meat of the game. It's enough to turn any gamer whose not a complete psycho like me off of an actually good game. It's also a mystery why the guards in the fortress are so dead ugly. In any case, this fortress is huge, and I want out.

YES, going up the tower now. MOTHERCRAPPER, another guard. Beginning to wonder if knocking out those searchlights was actually necessary, maybe just a waste of time. Whatever, syupid mistakes.

LOL talking ship. When did Link start on drugs? Anyway, onto Rupee gathering.

Rage Against the Mario

2007-11-19T22:35:00.000-08:00

Okay, pick a star from SM64. Any star.

..................

I got that one today. Yup, 120 in one day. It was epic, magical, and a bit sad. Sad because this is a slight realization that the game that is a complete world to me can be summed up into a one day play-session. Whatever, this is outweighed by how awesome an act that is.
I've always been a video game whore, especially when it comes to Mario, but am I really such a Nintendo Zombie that i actually did this? No, not really. Under other circumstances, it's likely that I would've settled with getting 40 stars or so (easy ones, too) and then having a life for the rest of the day. However, all this media buzz over Galaxy has driven me crazy in anticipation of my turn to play this new Mario adventure, and the only thing that could sate my Mario craze was 64. Just as playing Galaxy before the traingle's time would be like going to a whore before your marraige night (paper clip), doing what I did today was pretty much the equivalent of not being able to marry that girl in the first place, and, in denial of your depression, self-serving.
But my Mario craving was not the only thing that I gave into today (Did I meantion I got all 120 stars? Just putting that out there), I also finally admitted to myself that I enjoy Rage Against the Machine. Yes, the band I once swore I would never enjoy has now made it into my library. I resisted, but between Dispatch covering "Bulls on Parade" (which caused me to fall in love with it), two thirds of State Radio being die hard Rage fans, and a recommendation from TTBM, I caved. All this does is further prove my theory that I am a music slut and I can be made to enjoy any music if I listen to it enough. Whatever, at least I haven't bought a Fergie album yet (Check back with me in a week).

Sorry, I don't have an exact time for this epic feat, as I wasn't planning on going all the way when I started (That's what she said). I estimate around 8 and a half hours. Maybe I should become one of those gamer geeks who speed runs the game to beat his own time.

Haha, maybe not.

But maybe.

-OSK

"ALLOFWHICHAREAMERICANDREAMSALLOFWHICHAREAMERICANDREAMSALLOFWHICHAREAMERICAN"

C'mon, there's making a statement and then there's being a moron.

The Race, Part Trois (Of Trois)

2007-11-11T07:57:00.000-08:00

Well, there go three seasons of XC. It's astounding (and it makes me feel really old) to think that I've only one to go. I honestly can't believe it's been 3; it feels more like 2. This may be because freshman year's season was fairly uninteresting to me, as I had few friends on the team, being a freshman. However, this year I very much feel that I am a sophomore living in a Junior world. I don't feel like I've gotten older; I can't justify in my mind the authority (by means of intimidation) that comes with being an upperclassman. Rather, it feels that the world has gotten smaller, and me no bigger. Unlike when I was a sophomore and I found it easy to relate to the freshman and befriend them, this year's crew seem to be very hard to relate to (The protege search lives on, fear not). In any case, being bigger on the team has led me to analyze my position on the team. Depending on which way you look at it, this was either an awesome or dissappointing season for me. On the one hand, my new PR is about 1:10 faster than my PR last year (Though I'm not sure how good of an indicator this is, seeing as three of the courses we ran this year were absolute pancakes, one of which we ran twice). On the other hand, my position on the team has dropped considerably. While at the beginning of the season I was fighting for #2, I have now landed myself in the #5 spot. Frankly, the experience is rather confusing: I improve as the season progresses, but drop back in the lineup. I suppose the only real answer to this must be that my body requires much more conditioning and nurture to excel, as my training as is is not sufficient. This is most likely do to my psuedo-slacking over teh summer, a time when I ran wrecklessly, always going much too fast and tiring myself out, and hit the weight room about 4 times in total. This training ahs left me virtually unable to maintain what I should be capable of for 5K. But I don't mean to bitch; all this means is I must not let myself slack, lest my racing career become the very definition of a tragedy.
But then there's the other race, that race which we all must train for but have no desire to run: The race for good grades in quick time. This race, like that on the XC course, does not always turn a good benefit when you train well. Why is it that subjects I slack on I do well in, but those I really apply myself in I do not? This week is not a prime example of this, as it was the week of the play. I barely did any homework, as four hours of every night (not counting practice) was taken up by rehearsal. My philosophy became study for tests, study for quizzes, skip homework. Most of my teachers were sympathetic, and it is not the school's tolerance that I wish to criticize. Rather, I wish to criticize the cruel, ironic hand of the education Gods who decided that the tests I actually put hours into studying would screw me over anyways. You see, I have deep fear for my educational future. I came to the realization this week, up on stage, that I truly enjoy theater. Be it taxing, and whether I'm good or bad at it, performing the play this year was some of the most fun I've had. Whether it be acting or writing, I want to pursue the arts. I fear, however, that my apparent inability to push for good grades in other classes which I doubt will have any effect on my future will prevent me from going to a college where I can pursue these artistic endeavors. Try, try, try again, but for what?

-OSK

I'll lay off the "sequel-posts" for a while, try to get back into a regular groove.

BFTSOB II

2007-11-01T08:25:00.000-07:00

So I'm only 2 pages into a plot synopsis of Act 1 of "Rash" and I've already got some slight writer's block. But it's nothing serious (I hope), I don't believe I've written myself into a corner just yet. Then again, it's not writing into a corner I'm concerned about, but rather writing something that's about as interesting as this analogy. Which is to say, not interesting. So I've taken a day off from it. After all, it's just a synopsis, it doesn't mean jack poo if I want to change it. I'm determined to actually write this mofo though, as I've never finished writing anything creative in my life. I mean, I want to so badly when I read a good book or watch a good movie, because everything within the stories seem so real, so concrete. Believable characters reacting in intriguing ways to out of the ordinary situations. To bring back the recurring isolation theme, they create a world. I assumed for a long time that the reason I couldn't create this world was because I wasn't as good or creative as famous writers or hollywood screenwriters, amd while that's largely true, I don't believe it's the reason I'm not finishing things. You see, when any of us read a book or see a movie, we enter it believing whatever the author/actors want us to believe. Why is it that we can watch Star Trek without turning it off because it's not real? It's because we accept the parameters of reality set by the fictional universe, and the only time something becomes bogus is when it defies its own set parameters. In essence, there is no world in the mind of the writer or the actor because they know for a fact that what is happening isn‚Äôt real. The world is created by the viewer. So I‚Äôm hoping that means that if I write something, it can possibly create a world I myself didn‚Äôt envision.
I do fear that my posts are becoming a bit too philosophic, and even though my writings have always had one foot firmly planted in my own universe of philosophy, I miss the days when I would just write about random shit. But in a sort of middle ground, I'll explain yesterday's encounter with Tom. Instead of really learning any music, Tom decided to bow to my request of a GarageBand tutorial, as I had no idea in hell how to use this near-pro program. His justification for this was that all musicians should know how to GarageBand, as it is a key component in composition. Expect to get updates on my crappy attempts to compose in the near future, as I'm sure the formula required to envision song patterns shall remain a mystery to me for a very long time to come.
Speaking of song patterns, it seems to me that every band I find worth listning to has been coming out with music in this past year. At first this seems awesome, indeed, I thought it was. Linkin, SR, Bradd, Matchbox, and soon to be ZOX? If my life were eternal summer, this constant influx of new material would be greatly appreciated. Unfortunately, I have this pesky little thing called school which takes up 9 months of my year, and due to school, I have had insufficient time to enjoy all of the new tunes which have been showered upon me (For the most part this is a shame, though in the case of Matchbox I wouldn't go so far as to suggest that "Exile on Mainstream" is all too enjoyable. But the title is clever. This has caused me to realize that school really does suck, and has further cemented a desire for summer into my mind. I miss going through 5 albums a day, but most of all I miss the freedom of just chilling with people. Whatever, break is on the horizon, and though I must express my dissapointment that the triangle will be further fragmented over both Thanksgiving and Christmas hiatus due to our overseas counterparts. Whatever, let's say Voyager March.

-OSK

God, I miss marathons.

The Race, Part Deux

2007-10-27T08:49:00.000-07:00

Well gang, it appears that I was wrong about mental edge. It does exist. I was fed up with being fourth, so I told myself ass would be kicked, and indeed it was. About a fourth of the way through the race, I was in the number 2 spot. This is to be expected, as our number 1 doesn't really gun it until the end, and I'm known to go a little too hard at the beginning. But get this- by halfway through, I was in first! All I can say is that it was exhilarating. Someohow, when you're #1 for the first time, the pain just seems to melt away, and everything feels so pure and right. Next up was the section of the course with severe dropoffs into freezing water, which I managed to avoid. However, I lost speed a little bit and allowed a guy to pass me, and then the bats spun me out and allowed a girl to get in front of me. 3/4 of the way in and I had dropped back to 3rd. However, the mental edge really started to kick in. I wasn't about to lose to a girl, let alone ditzy Peach. The finish was dirty, and I almost fell off the rainbow into vast space, but I managed second. I guess it just goes to show that if you really believe in yourself, you can do anything.

-OSK

Oh yeah, and the XC race got cancelled.

The Race

2007-10-27T07:48:00.001-07:00

It always seems enough in my mind to tell myself that I'm going to kick ass, to convince myself that I'm going to see a guy, pass a guy, see a guy, pass a guy. In recent weeks I have come to question not only if I am mistkaen in this (which I have long suspected) but completely and utterly wrong about it. We're always told that there is a large mental component to running, but I am either not at all effected by this component or terrible at achieving it well. Mentally, I'm about as tough as a three-year-old. You know, one of those annoying three-year-olds who acts like they're made of steel and then cries without forseeable end when they got knocked down. I can tell myself that ass will be kicked, and that's all well and good, but it doesn't change the fact that when I get out on the course I'm inwardly yelling onscenities at myself by 3/4 of a mile in.
I've been almost privileged, in the past, to be a mediocre runner on a fairly mediocre team, as I had the wonderful ability to look good even if I had a terrible race. Back when I ran 22-minute races, I was capable of running 21s, but would sometimes only run a 21:55 and get showered with praise by team and family. One thing that never made sense to me was why "PRing" is treated with the same degree of awe and congradulation no matter what your skill level is. Runners who consistently run under 19 or 20 minutes are heavily praised for their PRs, with good reason. But at the same time, the runner like me, who used to run slower than he was capable, was praised the same amount for not nearly giving his all. And then of course there are those (can we even call them runners?) who don't give half a shit about XC and recieve the same amount of praise for PRing just because they decided to try that day. In this way I've been spoiled, as any small improvements I made in the past warrented celebration. But now I find myself possibly (hopefully not) beginning to touch an actual plateau. I'm not getting slower, but everyone else is getting faster, and now people think I'm not giving it my all because I'm behind those I used to beat.
The issue is, then, how do I improve? I run hard at practice all week, I train in the offseason, I eat well, I hydrate, but I lack the mental edge I'd like to think I used to have but know I didn't. I fear the pain, but I also fear the defeat. I can't do it again. I have to win this one for my own self-esteem. So, pain, I have but one thing to offer you: Let this be our final battle.

-OSK

Do I need a cookie for this one? That ending line was pretty sick...

Life Prime

2007-10-26T18:14:00.000-07:00

No, it's not the next installment in the ever-difficult metroid series. I've really been thinking about perception recently, as is evident by that beast of a post I made yesterday. But aside from pondering the mechanics of the human mind and what exactly it is to be human, I've also had some shallower queries on perception floating around. More specifically, I've been thinking about what it means for something to be "in it's prime" and whether the true beauty of a thing is measured in its occurence, or its remembrance.
Ok, maybe "shallow" wasn't the right word, that sounded pretty fucking smart. I blame it on the Thoreau and Emersonian prose I've recently been forced to read for my recent uncharacteristic plunge into the profound. Personally, I'm inclined to think that most celebrated prose are not actually as brilliant as they're hyped. Rather, they're the result of a writer having a personal epiphany which has changed their life who tries to convey this epiphany to their audience. The audience drinks these prose in because they sound smart, and they hope that the writer's epiphanies can be transferred to them. However, it being a personal epiphany, the audience is never actually effected enough to adopt this epiphany themselves and apply it in there own lives. Basically, they walk away from the experience fooling themselves into thinking they've changed inside, but anything they've gleaned from the experience slips from them in short time.
Sorry, I've been inwardly ranting about prose for a while. Which basically makes me a hypocrite, but whatever. The shallowness comes from the connections I'm about to make. Let's start with Star Trek. The Triangle has often discussed how amazing it would have been to be as into Star Trek as we are now 5 or 6 years ago. Back then, DS9 and Voyager were running new episodes at the same time, and the tail end of the TNG movies were coming out in theaters. It was, without a doubt, the best time for a Star Trek fan to be alive. However, I was not into Star Trek back then, and the other two were arguably too young to fully appreciate the beauty of this "nexus of Trek". In the present day we have no more Trek to look forward to (No, XI does not count, as I am still not looking forward to it), and so we lovingly and longingly watch the myriad reruns and DVDs to sate our cravings. There is a sort of beauty in experiencing a show in hindsight, as you can truly appreciate it as an entire being. For me, also, my isolation fantasies play into this, as these episodes seem to come at me from nowhere, previously hidden from me in an unknown past. In this way, the shows themselves are a type of isolation, and a world their own. But is it more beautiful to experience the shows in their prime, or in this mysterious hindsight? For something in its prime is a wonderful thing itself...
Which brings me to State Radio. My second-favorite band of all time, favorite existing band, they are certainly in their prime. I fear I may jinx it by saying so, but this trio is on fire. I hope to see many more albums of theirs of or even near the quality of their recent work. Experiencing their work as it emerges, I am ever intrigued by their sound's evolution. But let us compare them to Dispatch, my favorite band, and a group I only got into far after their prime, and just before their official breakup. Looking back on them, it is fascinating to see their sound's evolution in hindsight, a progression from acoustic love songs to political reggae rock. This, too, is wrapped the mysterious isolation of an unknown past. My entire perspective on Dispatch is sandwiched between dreams of what it would have been like to be a fan in their prime, and this is fascinatingly mysterious.
But something that we all experience is the prime of friend groups. When groups move on and aprt, I often wonder about their primes. They are, undoubtedly, good times, but they leave a lot of things inclear. Those of you who read this blog, even those who have left the obvious friend group, i would like to think I am still in a prime relationship with, as we keep in regular contact and consistently have good times whenever we get together. However, with other friends this does not happen. I spoke on the phone today with an old friend whom was very happy to talk to me, and I to her, but I feel that the solid friendship is a thing of the past. This is not a fault of I nor her, but it leaves me wondering. For unlike Trek or Dispatch, looking at the past does not grace me with the beauty of isolation in this case. It just seems sad, leaving my mind with a bitter taste. All I can say is that my perception of the primes of life confuses me. Sometimes hindsight is happy, sometimes it's not. But either way, let's enjoy the prime times we can have now before they're gone.

-OSK

Joke of the Day:

Man walks into a bar. Woman wlaks into a bar. Man and Woman hit it off. Man and Woman go out for a nice dinner. 6 months later Man and Woman get married. Man and Woman have kids.

What?It's a nice story.

Perception

2007-10-25T13:48:00.000-07:00

I apologize in advance for the scatter-brain style of this post. I let my stream of consciousness flow freely,a nd feel that any editing may throw the mood/ message (if there is one).

It seems to me that pleasure is a product of perception. A person like me rarely enjoys things for what they actually are (Friends and music are the only two exceptions I can really put my finger on), but rather he enjoys them for what they seem to be. Summer after freshman year epitomizes this. From this summer was born the Star Trek marathon, and arguably the friendships involved. But let us look back at the history of marathoning; was it not a more intoxicating experience when it began? Prior to the creation of marathons, I had never truly penetrated the night. Sure, I had stayed up late (or early), but never really taken advantage of that time, never really had fun with the night. Because it was mysterious, it was intoxicating. This isn't to say that the quality of marathons has decreased since then (though the frequency certainly has), but now they're more relaxed, and we know what we're doing. We're good at our craft. But the one thing that made Freshman summer so distinctive was the mysterious feeling of it.
I feel this way about many stages of my life. When I was young, it would happen when I discovered a new TV show that really played to my emotions and curiosities. I would completely give into the show, letting it envelope me until I had created a world out of my obsession. Later in my brief life it became new people, and I believe this holds true for people of any age. When you meet new people who seem "cool" to you, you sometimes immediately place them on a pedestal, and adopt an inferiority complex. Deep down you wish you could emulate them, but feel that it is impossible. However, as they become your friends, you get to know all of their flaws intimately. In this way, I often find myself appreciating the presence of new acquaintances (whose character has overwhelmed me) more than that of the old. I guess I'm just reinforcing the age-old saying "You never miss something until it's gone." Really, you have bonded much more with yor friends than a new person, yet your thoughts are filled with the new person. For me, this is because I have a need to experience other "worlds". That is to say, I am very comfortable in my own domain, both physically and mentally. But my ultimate fantasies involve new places and new people. One of my first ideas for a novel was about a boy waking on a sailboat in the middle of the ocean, no memeory of how he got there or who he is. He is the only character in the story, and the entire book revolves around him attempting to discover new lands and peoples, but throughout the entire tale he is alone.
To be honest, isolation fascinates me. That fascination is essentially the flaw in all of my creative writing. I set up a simple plot in which a character is either physically or mentally alone, and try to chronical the mental progression ( or de-evolution) of him or her. Sometimes the character's quest is to escape their isolation, and sometimes it is a quest of understanding its intricacies. I get lost in my own thoughts contemplating the idea of questing for companionship so as to fully enjoy your isolation. Therein lies my creative flaw, then, as my characters may search for companionship or understanding, but I the writer do not wish for them to find it. For the answer does not interest me, but the seemingly unsolvable question.
In life, it seems that we always search for companionship. Indeed, this is the case with me, always hanging out with new people. it is human nature. What fascinates me then, is not man, but an inhuman man, one who baskes in being alone, though it is not what I desire from my own life. We are told by many that we as humans like to feel in control of our surroundings, though we are not in control of anything. I believe i am safe here, but a plummeting plane could kill me instantaneously at any moment. While I do not have a death wish, it is the lack of control that interests me. When I awake on a sailboat in the middle of an endless ocean and no memory, I do not wish to find my autobiography and a map home. For it is far more interesting to believe I am isolated than to know that land lies right over the horizon, just a day away. If I believe I am alone, is my time not better spent contemplating my predicament and discovering things about myself than it is plotting a course home?
The truth is, answers are boring, and from this sprouts my paralyzing fear of the afterlife. The sunniest prediction we ever get about an afterlife is heaven, a haven of peace, together with others, knowing all. But to know all is to have nothing left to seek, and to be eternally bored in your eternal happiness. This is not an original idea, some Greek dude who I don't have the will to look up said this long ago. And he was right. The best I can hope for in an afterlife, if there is one, is an eternal mystery in which progress is made towards an end that never comes, but eternally intrigues.
The truth is, none of this would actually please me in reality. I know that if I were to wake up on a sailboat in the middle of the ocean I would be miserable. But I'd like to think I wouldn't, and after all, mystery is part illusion.

-OSK

'Cause I can't stand to stay
Right where I am
Let the water fill this land
Bring it to your mouth
And pass beyond your lips
No gale can down this ship

And wherever you go
There you are
And if I go
I won't go far

JP Sousa Found A Radio, A Radio

2007-10-11T19:10:00.000-07:00

So I've realized that the only way I'm getting into college is if I start writing that play of mine. Right now I've got a premise. It's called "Rash of Robberies" (I was listening to the State Radio song when I thought of it). My writing style for drama is the crappy tactic of coming up with a mystery without actually knowing the answer yet, so I don't actually know why the stuff that happens in the play happens, but I will soon. Basically it involves a wealthy mother and daughter living in a wealthy house. The mother is slowly killing her daughter (by means of drugs and alchohol) due to a hatred that has built between them over many years. Over the course of the play, 3 different robbers break into the house (coincidence? I think not) and find themselves in a strange twist of fate, as they end up stuck in the house as hostages, because the psychotic mother will not let them leave now that they see what she is doing to her daughter. One of the thieves discovers a connection with the mother and daughter, and all three are connected, unbeknownst to them.
Sketchy, I know. But I'm filling in the holes.

Continuing to spoon out ideas as if you care, OSK

Baby falls 40 feet, caught by a street cleaaner
Coming home from the Union Hall
He saw the fall
A it's OK

Poetic Outlet (ish) II

2007-10-07T12:35:00.000-07:00

I just found this in a word document on my computer. I have no idea who wrote it; I guess it could be me, but it's not quite my writing style (bad).

In times when life slows you down
Enough that you can walk around
Without the thought of consequence
Tearing at your conscience
I sometimes wish
That like the fish
I could swim and not look back
But times like these
It comes with ease
The certainty that the things I lack
Will become my strengths eventually

-OSK

Holy crap, how long ahs it been since "Poetic Outlet (I)"?

BRADDIFUCKINGGAN

2007-09-12T19:09:00.000-07:00

http://www.braddigan.com/tour/

OCTOBER 14th- CHECK IT

He's the best Dispatch guy of them all

I love Brad so fucking much

OMG

-OSK

-YESYESYESYESYESYESYESYESYESYESYESYESYESFUUUUUUUUUUCKKKKKKKYEEEEEEEESSSSSSSSSSSSS

Hipocritoppotamus

2007-09-11T17:21:00.000-07:00

http://www.fox.com/backtoyou/showinfo/

Am I the only one who finds it amusing that FOX is releasing a sitcom that laughs at incompetent anchors?

-OSK

Shuffle kicks ass tonight.

Juneshman Year

2007-09-10T19:29:00.000-07:00

I think everyone knows that this year is a little bit different than the past ones we've had. For everyone. A few of us went to college, a few of us became upperclassmen, and one of us even injured himself off the XC team and now must deal with my endless cripple jokes (Not that he actually reads this). In a nutshell, there's a good degree of "What the fuck?" ingrained into all of our perceptions of the '07-'08 school year at this point. I'm not just talking about new things for me, they don't scare me so much. But last year, I had an established friend group at the beginning of the year, and a handful of new people seemed to throw themselves into my life, and quickly became my friends. Basically, the higher power who governs high schools spoon-fed me a unique and enjoyable year and atmosphere when I hadn't even asked for it. Last year had new faces, new friends for the Klingon and plenty of drama what with new relationships and prospective relationships ( As much as I don't understand it, becoming the Frank just to end up playing hours of black shades in the comp lab was an experience I wouldn't do without if given the choice. Oh wait, I do understand; Now I'm Batman, motherfucker.)
Life used to have taste, it used to be something I touched and interacted with almost violently. But now, I feel disconnected. I feel as if winter has just fallen and I've begun to forget the senses I used to excercise on summer days. Don't be too flattered, matriculators, I miss you, but it's more than that.

But J_Verts put it well in describing my protege hunt: I'm being impatient. I suppose I have to give this year time to envelope me. With exposure comes feeling.

-OSK, Not actually unhappy but utilizing angst for good blogging material. What a whore.

Fuck you, iPod. The only reason this post is such a downer is because of you. Shuffle my balls.

Was that a double cookie?

Triple.

Fuck. Quadruple. Fuck. This needs to end.

FIN, motherfucker.

What I've Done

2007-06-27T23:29:00.000-07:00

June was supposed to last forever.

It didn't. In past years, a summer has proved to be an eternity that doesn't seem to last long enough. This time it seems too short in every capacity.
What it really comes down to is that I've wasted this month. Sure, I hung with friends (about 3), had a handful of good times, logged an easy 10 hours of blogging, but other than that I've been a complete couch potato. It's ironic, then, that I came into this summer emotionally full-force, ready to have a great time, since I haven't had a great month as a whole. You see, when I first came into this, I had big ideas of what to accomplish with my new free times. Write a play, start that band (for real this time), and just have a generally awesome time with a variety of friends. What I found tonight, however, is that that is not the makings of a great summer. A teenager who comes into his summer dreaming spends it dreaming. What I've missed out on this go-round is the little moments. Little moments like sitting in a friend's garage at 1:30 in the morning, eating cold pizza, and reminiscing about the good old days of pokemon trading. Things I'll remember a little better than "Apartment", "Larry is Stuck in Time" or even "Diddy Kong Racing" (Solo, that is- Together it'll be a blast).
Indeed, for the last few months I feel like I've put my life on auto-pilot. I don't remember why I ever stopped "seizing the day", but somewhere along the way I became content to let life pass me by, as long as I got some indulgence now and again.
Well, that contentment is gone. There comes a point when you're sitting beneath a pine tree by the side of the road at 2 in the morning, trying your best to remember the opening lines of "Two Coins", and you realize it might be nice to have someone there to remind you. Whether that someone is a friend, or whether you could actually unpocket a girl's lips and the "two coins" of her eyes, companionship is such. This is why I text some of you at 2 in the morning.
I've found that the majority of my posting since I've returned has been more or less poetic bullshit. I used to come on here and talk about things that really epitomized me, and they were shallow and uninteresting. Now, in an attempt to find a deeper me, my posts have become very much a congregation of random profound-ish thoughts from the day which I end up linking with some forced metaphor. I'm not going to say I regret it, I'm hatching. Just help me find my inner blogger.
So there's your random poetic bullshit for the night. Now, here's a bit of the old me. Maybe I can find a blend someday.
Good news for State Radio fans- New single on JUly 16th, plus "Year of the Crow" album drops September 18th. Oh, and I'm totally seeing Transformers now that they're using "What I've Done" to promote it, primarily because no one besides Warner Bros. and Machine Shop have had the balls to support a Linkin Park which doesn't scream it's head off.

'Til next time I care this much.

-OSK

I stick loneliness
Your lips
And the two coins of your eyes
Into my pocket, yeah yeah