Scarlet's walk through the violets

Sun, 01 Nov 2009 04:58:27 GMT

Well hello there, information.

Pritzker Military Library: Nathaniel Fick speaks on One Bullet Away

Fri, 18 Sep 2009 18:01:58 GMT

Since hearing about how it is not common to smell or taste anything in dreams, I've been keeping an eye open (yes I did just make that joke) for when it happens. I just woke up from being a kid in an incredible flower shop and confectionery. Roses and pie.

I have recurring dreams. This is not one of them. This is new.
I am so in love with wherever that came from.

In my other dream, Brendon Urie came over and we watched a movie, talked about how many awesome ties he owned, and then I tried to get him to listen to Cage- but that's more like what the fuck, brain?

In real life, I just took over a bunch of new lines, and IDK an entire scene where thankfully I say and do very little but there's still blocking, for somebody who had to back out of the play. We're doing Dark of the Moon, and when that's over, it's Tobacco Road to memorize. I was supposed to be completely memorized by today, that's not happening. Otherwise it's going well. I met some nice people, I sing a song, and we all get to square dance.
That's right, GET TO. How jealous are you right now?

Tonight is Rosh Hashanah, who's excited, not me really. Also my aunt in New York just called me and that was tres awkward.

Classes are nice: anthropology, weird teacher, I feel like I'm going to be arguing a lot that mostly people are dumb. Intro to Criminal Justice- the instructor is about seven kinds of awesome. Survery of music history- history! music! essentially it's the best course ever, except for having to memorize all these definitions. And voice class is okay too. I like knowing how quickly I can learn things by ear, and I picked up the German for my song pretty quickly but the melody is still kicking my ass for some reason.

I refuse to be ill, and I am going to New York in December FOR REAL, and generally my life is swell even if I don't always know it.

Tue, 11 Aug 2009 09:57:31 GMT

Clearly I have been misinformed. Awesome exists, it's right behind you, OMG.

1. Generation Kill
This is powerful, offensive, hysterical stuff, supremely handled by one of the fucking best casts I've ever had the pleasure of being mesmerized by (two words: James Ransone). Take a good long look at the smoothest seven hours of filmmaking to ever grace a screen, Hollywood, and why can't you be more like your sister?

2. Star Trek
I've only seen it three times. The rest of the time I am consumed by my own stupidity for not seeing it in IMAX. Yeah, so, maaaybe having some seriously good-looking men IN VERY VERY FITTED UNIFORMS BEATING THE CRAP OUT OF EACH OTHER helps, but, I don't know, I guess the really fucking clever script is a clincher.

3. Harry Potter and the Half Blood Prince
Plot is left out, shit blowing up is put in-- meanwhile, Draco Malfoy is pimpin' and Potter is suddenly awesome. David Yates, I could kiss you.

Sun, 02 Aug 2009 21:18:27 GMT

Though lacking Jean-Luc Picard (it wasn't that much of an AU) and his gloriously bald dome, Star Trek still ate my face off. Seriously, who misled me into thinking this is not the most batshit awesome film ever?

Tue, 07 Jul 2009 06:52:35 GMT

Booked the flight to NY. Un/fortunately am staying through Christmas and New Years'; everyone should do it once, or not, the voices and I will see how it works.

human emotion, as influenced by deadbeat girlfriends, tumultuous homelives, and Chuck Palahniuk

Tue, 07 Jul 2009 05:25:06 GMT

In high school, Dorm People would come to me to talk about their problems, or to talk shit about other people, how much they sucked and how, exactly, it was their problem. While I couldn't or wouldn't offer any good advice- partly because I had no idea why they were talking to me in the first place, I'm not Dr fucking Phil, and partly because it's not like I cared, exactly- I listened and nodded along sympathetically because- and this is me as a person and as a little shit- I like hearing about Everyone's Drama. Relationship!normal, this-is-how-I-really-feel-about-my-so-called-friends Drama, that's the best kind and I liked (here's hoping for past tense) knowing about it so I'd feel less like a social fuck-up.

(In a faint, "I'll read this testimony if I absolutely have to" way, it's about motives. If I have enough of these slips of paper in my pocket, I'll understand everything you do, forever.)

Sometimes it worked. As for ignoring the symptoms and possible side effects, I am now a full-blown yenta.

I am almost positive that this derives from my ongoing sickish fascination with humanity as a separate species (I don't understand people, and they usually don't like me, I'm a freak, blah blah. So I hide in the foliage and take pictures) and middle-class America's/world's mundane...ness, selfishness, and complete lack of objectivity.

I'm not exactly going to sit in my house that I own at my computer of which I have two and bitch about how much America sucks, because that would be stupid and untrue and tangential, but Americans making America less awesome and less a shiny machine because of their own greed and weird religious shit makes me angry. I'm sure this is so for citizens of other countries.

But again-- sickish fascination! I'm allowed to have sickish fascinations, or rather, I have the time and the money and the will. We all have things that grab us by the nipples and force us to care about them for one reason or another; this is very darkly related to why I continuously try to fit my gargantuan backside [but getting smaller!] into tiny, Wentz-sized parking spaces- the scene fucking fascinates me, you have no idea. It's like watching cultural history bloom. Oh sure, I like the music, but I like the pretty more. Notice I don't go bonkers about After Forever splitting up, even though they are way more awesome/Dutch. Way more awesome/Dutch than Exclamation Point At The Disco.

But anyway-- yenta. It's bad. It's so mundanely bad that I'm pretty sure I bought VIP tickets to check out the shit going down for myself, and that just made me yell at my brain later because of Rant # [Unknown]: Industry & Privilege [AKA A Credit Card Doth Not a Better Fan Make].

So now I want to know everything about everything, but also don't really because, jeez, it's probably dumb. Tell me anyway in the hopes of making me less of a social fuck-up; don't tell me how that's counterproductive.

Desperation does magical things.

Wed, 01 Jul 2009 08:31:34 GMT

Warped Tour, I have found, is not all that different from Projekt Revolution, or in fact any music festival, as far as execution. I could have saved myself a lot of trouble had I figured this out sooner; I know it now. It was one hundred and six degrees, which is the equivalent of 'it's hot out, deal' in Arizona terms, and with which only the sun-resistant, fanged camel-related residents of this state can deal. There was also a delicious breeze.
It could have been worse; also, now I want a snow cone machine.

The Roundup.
The Bouncing Souls, NOFX and Flogging Molly were among the bands to not be in Phoenix, which isn't terribly surprising because life can't be all awesome-in-one-place all the time, and I missed Black Tide, Underoath, and only caught the last song of Escape the Fate's set (This War Is Ours- at least they waited until the end, that was nice of them).
Among the Shiny:
Madina Lake. If they were great when I first saw them at PR, then they were even better today. My ongoing fascination of twins aside- no, really- Madlina Lake give performances, not shows, and with energy alone- no tracks, no lights, on the Ernie Ball Stage, and yes, Nathan Leone still stagedives and I don't know how his bandmates aren't on blood pressure medication. The sound was great, and N. Leone's vocals are spectacular. It's rather all incredible, and topped off with a yummy good message. Plus, they're supernice.
Saosin. Possibly the one band it does not make sense to mosh to, and yet there I was, clinging and being clung to, swapping DNA, pushing, hoping we don't all fall down. They did not play 'Bury Your Head', but that's okay, because they are Saosin, and they did other awesome things, like be on stage and play songs.
Versaemerge. Perhaps the one band signed to Ramen that I am not embarrassed to listen to and maybe want to cuddle. Despite their inherent awesomeness, I feel that maybe most of the guys in the audience were there for Sierra Custerbeck's legs, and in general that Phoenix could have been less of a douche during their set (whoever the idiot is who put In This Moment after VE should be forced to listen to Prince's entire discography). But other than that, they are adorable and they play instruments. No, seriously, I want to keep Blake in my pocket (although apparently he's six foot two), and I want the drummer's hair, and I like their songs.
Less Than Jake. Geez. So freaking cool. I don't even listen to Less Than Jake, except for when I do because they play and then you must come and see what sounds so freaking AWESOME. They are punk? Ska Punk? IDK. They have horn players in their band.
The White Tie Affair is just another adorable band in... actually a very small handful of bands I want to keep in my pocket forever and ever, and they are notable because I had no idea who they were, picked a name off of the list because I had an hour to kill, and stayed the whole thing, and LIKED IT. They are also very energetic, and smiley, and do cute things, and the music is catchy but not in that annoying, I-have-you-by-your-teen-years way. Also supernice. I ended up buying their CD- I like buying CDs, iTunes is a clever menace- and they all signed it and even spelled my name right, which not even Jewish people do. There is, actually, an 'i' in 'Bina'.
The Others: In This Moment, Aiden, Streetlight Manifesto, Senses Fail, Peachcake, P.O.S, Alexisonfire, The Seasons Premiere.

Other than the covered amphi with the ceiling fans and the restrooms...go with me here...Cricket Pavilion is faulty. Faulty, okay? I can't say any more than that.

I am sore and tired and my physical therapist is going to hate me, but- I had fun. My first Warped Tour how cute.

Mon, 29 Jun 2009 22:11:02 GMT

Um.

So, this was going to be about Mondays and how God spoke unto the nations and told them how Mondays were going to suck to make the rest of week phenomenally better in comparison (He left out the part about this being a deal with Satan while they were stoned)...but then I think I started shipping God/Michael.

...Satan, as he often did when He was high, was alternatively boasting about crispy barbecuing all of mankind and bemoaning how He was misunderstood. And God, who was a happy, cuddly stoner, snuggled the Archangel Michael closer, pet his leg and tried not to recite along, but it was a close thing. After a while He tuned out anyway, and thought sadly about Sunday being like the second layer of chocolates in the box. Delicious, He thought to Himself, and like a surprise after the first layer of Saturday chocolate, but come Monday and the chocolates were all gone. (It had been a hard week, okay? Don’t judge.)
Satan was saying God’s name over and over (nations trembled with inexplicable dread) trying to get His attention. “What,” said God, and "yes, I'm listening," and "no you're not terrible" (hoping that went over all right, Satan could get pretty moody) and if none of the words sounded right that was okay, it was very good weed. He felt fingers in His big ethereal beard of cobwebs, spun gold and leftover cotton candy, and okay, maybe Satan was also a handsy stoner and maybe that’s why none of the other Archangels ever hung out with God anymore, at least not when Satan was around.
(“It’s not about…that,” Gabriel said kindly, but without stopping the round of table tennis. “He’s just kind of…”
“Weird,” said Uriel, with a hard eye on the game. "He's weird."
“You’re really weird together,” Raphael added unhelpfully, but he was distracted because Gabriel had just tied the score.
“If he puts his hand anywhere near my tunic I’ll smite him,” Michael tells God later. “I mean it. I put up with the cuddling, and his really bad weed breath, and that creepy “special friend” of his, Ashmedai? But the tunic- no. Noooo.” He stares into the distance with a horrible look in his eyes. God is maybe a little frightened, but He agrees with all those things, especially about Creepy Ashmedai, but secretly He thinks Michael likes the cuddles.)

this is the flesh, this is the nectar- this is the pit

Mon, 29 Jun 2009 09:57:57 GMT

The whole "strength in numbers" thing is OH LOOK I AM NOT TALKING TO MYSELF IN PUBLIC BECAUSE THERE IS SOMEONE BESIDE ME, SEE, MAMA I MADE A FRIEND.

I hate public places. I don't like crowds and am very possibly frightened by them (crowds, not mobs, it's different; teenagers, not adults- it's high school all over again). So I am going to be so fucking cool lookit and ignore people with my [hypothetical] Shades of Doomy Plastic.

Wal-mart better have what I need, and I better get access to a sewing machine (I am badass I hem my own pants) but unfortunately, due to a large ocean separating my country from Europe both ways and lack of foresight, there will be no Pee-mates. Them Port O' Johns. Do they sell ~~hazmat suits~~ toilet seat covers in supermarkets?

All of this AKA My Super Freakout Over Nothing, or like, Being a Free Person, because seriously? Priorities, let me go get them! I lose my shit and go comatose over what I am doing right now (I think). Maybe.

No, this was going to be a clever little thing about how much I obviously suck at being normal, or normal relative to the norm, which is not so normal, and this always goes back to how much easier this would all be if, switching to plural first p. to avoid the Onwent Awkwardism, we all just, fit in, ya know? Fit into skinny pants, that is, and glued the 'do, and no, the people in my head are not scene.

I think I'm babbling. Computer text babble is not so good. I hate crowds! Did I mention I hate crowds? Did I say I'm the slickest they is? Meanwhile, my mother is like, are you performing? I return a witball. Yeah, I say, I'm playing at Warped with my band, right after Underoath (which is total B.S. because Underoath will headline your ass). Me (cont.): I don't even think I'd be this nervous if I was onstage. Mom: So join a band. Me: I'll get right on that.
We sip our Diet Snapples.

FEEL FREE TO IGNORE ME FOREVER, I AM CLEARLY DEFECTIVE. Ooh, a brick wall.

Mon, 22 Jun 2009 11:20:42 GMT

Things are looking up already, how nice. I am putting words on a page and Doro is coming to Phoenix in September.

Doro.

I love when the U.S. lags five thousand years behind everyone else, eating cake.

Mon, 22 Jun 2009 06:27:47 GMT

I really, really hate the half of my brain going "ooh shiny" at fucking everything and the fact that the teen years are no longer the most awkward because there's like, a colorful, ramen filled niche for 'em now. I'm 21 and trying to work past the fact that no, I am not old, and it's okay to listen to and like what Pete Wentz pulls out of Vegas//LA/his ass on a daily basis. The equation here is fat girl+the pit-(half dozen bands I actually like)
I could've gotten this shit out of my system in 2005.

UGH JESUS I HATE MY FEELINGS I'D EAT THEM IF I COULD. FUCK LA JOLLA, FUCK HIGH SCHOOL, FUCK MY LIMITED FRIENDS, FUCK MY CO-DEPENDENCY ISSUES, FUCK THE FRIGHT, FUCK THE PUBLIC ARENA. Be sore from all that fucking.

I need to go find pants.

Sat, 06 Jun 2009 22:53:15 GMT

So Friday kicked off with a member of the Jewmunity flagging me down and handing me a [skinny, orphaned, five week old, male] kitten (in short), and my sister and I toted the poor thing around and the Petsmart clinic poked and prodded him, and he fell asleep on me about five thousand times...

...and then I cried like a little baby this morning when I handed him over to Halo Animal Rescue because we just can't afford another cat, and also the [adorable wonderful] two we have will hate us. But the volunteers were sympathetic, and totally not new to the crying, and we can call to check up on him. If someone doesn't adopt him in about five seconds, I will be very surprised, but they'll call us first, so.

Latest American fail/news not history

Fri, 29 May 2009 10:51:14 GMT

I'm a kind of crazy visual person. I love movies, I love the idea of movie-books (book-movies?) It's just that this idea has been poorly executed about 4893409560939342453 times- through poor casting, poor directing, suck-ass writing, cheap sets: it's your call. Inevitably, it's some fucking executive or whatnot somewhere saying "I don't give two shits about the seventy five million of you who read this book and fell in love with its glorious characters and decadent prose, I just want to make money. So I'm going to cast Britney Spears as [your beloved heroine here] and Dane Cook as [corresponding beloved hero here]. There will be sexual content. There will be 'brief nudity'. There will be fart jokes, titties, and swear words. The American audience wants what I have to give, little bitches, so bring the kids."
Of course, it's never actually that mindbendingly vomititious. Itty adjustments, we assure you. A subplot here and there. Entire scenes. Characterization. What happens in the book, like, at all? But, as many a self-congratulory, asscrack discussion board troll will tell you, they MUST change stuff. Not EVERYTHING EVER can be translated to the screen. That bit wasn't even IMPORTANT. No one wants to watch a FIVE HOUR MOVIE. Fans of oh, just about any decent swatch of scribble will say otherwise, because guess what: the books were actually that fucking good. Bitches. And if you weren't so keen on fixing what isn't broken and making money, actually pulled the industry out of your ass, that sort of thing, something beautiful could occur. Beautiful things have occurred. As far as my film interests are concerned, these beautiful things have been handed to me on polished silver platters by the BBC, who I may want to service, so the balls I'm aiming to kick are a little closer to home. Like Hollywood, CA. Not like it ~~Steve Kloves you are a dead man~~ cares.

A poem.

Roaches, roaches, delicious crunchy roaches
Put them in a salad, put them in a soup
Boil and serve with butter, marinate and grill them lightly
Make the beetle icecream, I know I'll have a scoop.

...There are more verses, I am burning them.

Thu, 21 May 2009 07:21:40 GMT

IMHO, Adam Lambert shouldn't even have been on American idol. Adam Lambert should have been fronting the big gay arena-rock lovechild of Twisted Sister, The Misfits and Queen like, yesterday, and this loss is saving him and those entertained by him from a mediocre career in mediocre pop music that, by the Googled looks of it, he is far too interesting for.
Then again, I don't watch American Idol. I don't have Tivo, so I can't fast-forward through the commercials, O DR4M4 and Ryan Seacrest talking. I do really hope this Kris Allen has the chops, and doesn't just end up like all those other Idol winners who we never hear from again. But if anyone can pull a Chris Daughtry and perform big sparkly circles around the so-called American Idols, it sounds like it's this Adam kid.

Of course, I'm partial to drama kids, scene hair, and eyeliner- or anyone who looks like this, really- so. We all know who had my vote.

Mon, 11 May 2009 05:50:42 GMT

I think I want to have the sex with David Tennant's eyebrows.

Month sum up.

Thu, 07 May 2009 14:21:34 GMT

-Timur Bekmambetov: awesome.
-Nightwatch movies: awesome.
-Must read the books. Movies may become less awesome.
-Russians: clearly superior
-Everyone needs a Madame Soupeau. Despite what you've read, you've done the same thing. Perhaps not with Nazis.
- Drama dept.: bunch of freakin' procrastinators
-College. Not working for it.
-Life: I live in Phoenix. After nine p.m., there is none.

And apparently I can prance about on a stage in front of complete strangers for two hours without breaking a sweat, but five minute presentations make me want to Michael Bay something.

Tue, 07 Apr 2009 10:46:46 GMT

So, I watched the Watchmen.

Nudity! Simulated yet gratuitous sex! People die! People lose limbs for no reason other than someone and Zack Snyder is trying to feel! And in true Gee Thanks fashion, the best character dies. They don't tell you these things in the previews. Oh no. I thought this was supposed to be a cool superhero soap opera movie where the world is eventually saved from mankind's massive inferiority complex, but no. Instead, one superhero kills another superhero and frames yet another superhero in some sort of desperate attempt to make people hate superheroes, I guess, for the sake of fake peace. Now fake peace, you must realize, is not as tasty as the real kind, and is much like an oxygen substitute, keeping us alive until it doesn't because the real stuff is better. If you respect Ozymandias' (and whoa can you say foreshadowing) decision but dislike margarine, you are slightly hypocritical, but no, not enough to leave a mark. "Humanity" might as well be "termite colony" if the forces of Good can't triumph over the forces of Evil because, ya know, it's kinda the right thing to do and maybe we should try it. Ya know, all that Golden Rule, Ten Commandment stuff. The Biblically Epic Smackdown of Evil might never happen, and we might all sit back and shrug and throw our hands up defensively, and then we really will deserve to burn. But neither God nor any fucking superheroes are gonna sell me mass-produced utopia. That shit has a cheap aftertaste.
Rorschach. What can we say about Rorschach? That he has the clearest set of morals of the lot, perhaps, or that he is the sanest person to ever be considered crazy. He is not the Comedian, who does good things, but also does very bad things to good people. Rorschach (at least movie Rorschach) punishes the Bad People like they're asking to be punished: men get arrested, dogs get put down. Thank you.
Dr. Manhattan is cool. Sucks what happens to him, sucks that we made him into a big blue pawn, sucks that he can't make his own damn decisions unless it involves brooding on another planet.

All in all, this is movie in a short line of movies (300, Sin City) that needs blood to live as much as humans and vampires do. This is a movie chock full of interesting, scintillating ideas, prospects and situations all being smothered by close-ups of cleavage and guts and Patrick Wilson's naked jiggling ass. There are unbelievably, heart-breakingly beautiful scenes and excellent, excellent sequences, like the opening credits. There is a plot, but there is viscera on the plot, ew. There is that "stylistic" over-acting that someone should be shot for reviving. There are many, many broken bones- like so many, are you impressed yet? There are no secrets- everything I learned about entirely fake sex I learned from Watchmen. And as usual, cock is scandalous (save for Manhattan's CGI penis), but women are free like the wind and wear very little clothing. Yeah us. Should I be sucking on Alan Moore's toes because he stuck a woman in this and she kicks in some skulls? I have one word for you- take it home with you, look it over- unnecessary. I stand firmly, FIRMLY by the fucking TRUTH that if you have a good story, people will want to hear it! You don't need big names. This movie has one, and it's the title of the comic. More importantly, you don't need insides on the outside! You don't need boobs! I know what boobs look like, I sucked on one a while back and might again in the future. You don't need bare ass. And if any of you out there are going "yes yes I do need all of that" and then wonder one day why porn mags no longer do the trick and your kinks have gotten kinkier and why you can watch a man get his arms sawed off or watch people crawl through pits of needles, shoot each other and generally die grotesquely and either go "that's cool" or just not feel anything...
I hope you realize why.

You may now return to your evil ways, over and out. Smiley faces up!

Thu, 19 Mar 2009 07:49:19 GMT

R.I.P Natasha Richardson.

Wed, 04 Feb 2009 03:06:01 GMT

Oooh, everything sucks. Oooh, don't tell stories that aren't yours! Tippy-toe around everyone's sensibilities! That's mine. You can't have it. You can't show any interest in it. It's never happened to you, so you can't care about it! You can't talk about it. Put down your signs. Stick to your goldmine corners of the world, and keep your sympathy out of my misery.

Whoosh. There goes the world over your heads. Oh my.

Mon, 19 Jan 2009 13:46:20 GMT

2/27 Coldfusion @ The Clubhouse
3/7 Jimmy Eat World @ Marquee
3/12 Sleepy Sun @ Modified Arts
4/3 Fall Out Boy w/Cobra Starrship, Metro Station, and Hey Monday @ Mesa Amphi
5/2-5/3 Bamboozle @ Meadowlands Sports Complex, East Rutherford, NJ
5/11 Nightwish @ Pavilion at Concrete St, Corpus Christi, TX
6/6 Chapel of Thieves w/Miracle Dolls

Death has never tasted this good.

Sun, 01 Jun 2008 12:27:10 GMT

(This has nothing to do with the title of the post.)

As much as Panic At the Disco collectively love/hates their first record, it stuck. And I'm sorry if this offends anyone, namely Beatles' fans, but no, I don't think they sounded like anyone else. Not in my generation. They certainly didn't look like anyone else, and they didn't worry about it like everyone else. Or they didn't at first, anyway. I think Fever was innovative, incredibly refreshing, and honest. Notice I didn't say "groundbreaking", because I'm not sure drawing inspiration from a gazillion different bands counts as being groundbreaking. I said "innovative". Much more better. "Refreshing" because I am a keyboard and synth whore. "Honest" because hello, have you listened to, like, any of it?

So, aside from all around stand-up musical goodness, Pretty. Odd. didn't quite smack me in the face, kick me in the ribs and make me weep like A Fever You Can't Sweat Out did. Thematically speaking, it's not supposed to, since the skies cleared and all; now it should just hand me cotton candy rainbows or something. I definitely reacted to the songs differently. I warm up to these or I don't, whereas I kind of hated the entirety of Fever until I listened to it one hundred times. And I still don't like some of it. But as usual- what I love, I love. Pretty. Odd. is a more challenging listen, melodically (if you consider string ensembles and horn sections to be above synthesizers, which I don't, necessarily), but Fever hit heavier with the subject matter. Good or bad, emotion is emotion and it's relatable, sure, but, I don't react the same way to songs about the weather, as pleasing as they sound or as thickly veiled in metaphor they might be, than to songs about heartbreak and disappointment (with a surprisingly catchy center). That said, I'm not going to compare the two albums past "how they made me feeeeel", because it doesn't seem right.

Those Stand-Up Tracks

She's A Handsome Woman- "Go on, grab your hat and fetch a camera. Go on, film the world before it happens." Okay. Yeah, I can do that.

I Have Friends In Holy Spaces- the last thirty seconds, zomg.

Northern Downpour- I'm not terribly fond of the ending. I don't like the final mix of the vocals. I think it's too harsh. Also, in some version or another that I heard, Brendon Urie did something magical with "Northern Downpour sends its love" that is NOT present on this record for some reason known only to whomever wants to ruin my week. But I do kind of love it anyway.

When the Day Met the Night- *cracks whip* Oh yeah. I'm entirely unfond of horn sections, but the loveliness of this song makes up for it.

Pas De Cheval

Behind the Sea- The alternate version sort of kicks the original version's ass. Foremostly because Ryan Ross sings the whole time, and his voice really is incredibly pleasant. No, that is absolutely not a backhanded compliment.

She Had the World- LOVE the intro. Love it.

Mad As Rabbits- I like this song. I don't love it in its entirety, not yet, but I do love that Urie and Ross alternated verses and so in it.

Overall? It's good. It's very, very different. I can't listen to this record the same way I can listen their previous record. and that bothers me. Progression, if that's what you want to call it, but they didn't explode to the extent that they did by making a crappy debut album. Pretty. Odd., all two years of it, despite- or perhaps in spite of- all the goodwill, may be a little too accessible. For all the non-Beatles/Dylan fans, the techno freaks within who love a good synth, or just the odd tempo change, we'll fight it all the way to the very last track. They're good. I don't have to like it, but they are.

Kids, don't do meth and stay in school.

Thu, 02 Aug 2007 08:52:13 GMT

11 bands. Let me clarify.
Madina Lake, Styles of Beyond, The Bled, Saosin, Mindless Self Indulgence, Julien-K, Placebo, HIM, Taking Back Sunday, MY CHEMICAL ROMANCE, and Linkin Park.
Plus, lots of skinny jeans and eyeliner. That's just the audience.

Saosin ROCKED (You're Not Alone is going to make you weep, I swear) and MSI is absolutely fucking nuts and YOU LOVE IT DON'T LIE.
HIM was, well, HIM. This could mean many things to many different people. To me it means "really fucking awesome and Ville Valo is fucking adorable without the weird ass makeup". When he smiles, I melt into a big puddle of taanis-goo.
Placebo (I'm skipping around) I'm not such a huge fan of, but they were good, and Julien-K and TBS were awesome.

THEN DID I TELLZ YOU ABOUT MY CHEMICAL ROMANCE?
They did Heaven Help Us. HEAVEN HELP US. Do you have any idea how much I love this song? Yeah? Okay. Among the shiny was Give 'em Hell Kid and Teenagers, and they finished with "Cancer" and destroyed the bit of my heart that was left. This is what I try to explain to people (mainly my sister). You will never hear that much emotion in a song or experience the reaction of the audience in a recording, EVER. It was amazing when it came out and still is. But nothing compares to hearing Mr Way sing it live.

Oh, and Welcome to the Black Parade, which is fucking incredible live, and-
You know What They Do to Guys Like Us in Prison. I was PRAYING, you have no idea.
Gerard Way told all the males in the audience to take off their shirts "if you haven't already, and you know you want to" and wave them over their heads. WINKNUDGING LIKE WHOA and it isn't even necessary.
And the random "First base...Second base...*little moan, touching* third base." Random hotness from Gerard Way, ladies and gentleman. Unfortunately, this time it didn't involve Frank Iero.

I AM A PERVERT I AM OKAY WITH THIS.

And then, you know, Linkin Park? They did Papercut, Crawling, In the End, Numb, Points of Authority and From the Inside and I decided I could die happy now. Plus the new stuff, but at the risk of being murdered by LP fanatics, I like the older stuff more. And I love Mike Shinoda. You look at him and he just looks happy and pleased and thrilled about the whole deal.

*sigh* I love me some musicians.

I have a terrible sunburn. It speaks (yes, it talks) of ten fucking hours spent in the sun with rather shitty sunblock. It also speaks of achievement and Really Awesome Happenin' Shit.
I also have a poster. A FREE poster, because I had no money. Under the category of Things I Did Not Have Today is breakfast, but- except for maybe perhaps the headache- that didn't seem to be a problem because, ya know, there were far more important things going on, HELLO.

I suggest (if you treasure your hearing at all) earplugs. I had friendly little mush silicone ones (that were hot pink, yo) that brought the noise down to a comfortable level.

So I look like a newborn and my sister is calling me "Tomato Head" (she even made me a label) but you could not crush my spirit right now if you were miserable enough to try, because I just spent 12 HOURS watching 11 BANDS so please, step back.