Friday, November 11, 2011

Eat, pray, love, WTF

Let it snow, times three, finally.

After absorbing this interview with Rob Miller of the reformed Amebix, I forwarded it to the Duchess who wondered, surprisingly sans snark (don't try & face punch, homie, I've got a Battle Ready Sword complete with Peptide Synthesis), if that is the dude equivalent of this post's title.

[ed.note: being culturally illiterate, I had to look the reference up]

Short answer: a small segment of us wouldn't be against it, & though able to pick Scotch ancestors out of a genealogy lineup, slim are the pickings of heading off to a sparsely-populated isle with naught on my back but a few lonely albums, books, & t-shirts to forge weapons to a single malt tune midst the primitive wild. Confession is good for the soul, or the stomack, or something; is that all there is has beat an insistent snare for awhile.

Writing remains, & always will, but the abattoir is cramped & the cemetery is running out of space. Two-and-a quarter chords & flailing dormant brushstrokes form hardly anything more than a poetry of blah. Retry? Sure, but it's not the thing, it's never the thing, but the pictures of isms & faces hacked out of space-time, born into indifference with the arrival of the next pin & glass box.

Save for touchstones, bien sûr, but those needn't be said as they're understood, pure movement to this hydra of stasis. I've got caffeine & a notebook with too few pages left. Can't make a torch out of that.


ifthethunderdontgetya™³²®© said...

Can't make a torch out of that.

You could multi-class as a mage-warrior. Then you wouldn't need to make torches.

Randal Graves said...

Are we talking 1st edition or later, 'cause if there are level limits depriving me of Bigby's Interposing Hand, I ain't interested.

Jim H. said...

"but the abattoir is cramped & the cemetery is running out of space."


"I've got caffeine & a notebook with too few pages left."

gives one pause...Nice.

Thx, btw, for pointing me to the Amebix stuff. A must explore.

Tengrain said...

Graves, you swine!

I double-dog dare you to don a kilt and forge a sword. I'll bring the scotch.



Demeur said...

And just why do you insist on being so esoteric? I thought Amebix was the newest sleep aide you were trying. And who need swords when you have that abundance of stacks? Death by a thousand paper cuts.

Randal Graves said...

jim, early stuff is extra raw, and the two LPs are fantastic. Just don't be shocked at the new one, much less crusty (hey, has been a quarter of a century) but it's good.

tengrain, as long as it's not a triple-dog dare, Schwartz.

demeur, if you think parrying with a copy of the OED is easy, you're welcome to try.

S.W. Anderson said...

"Poetry of blah" sounds like a fitting pastime for a cold, dark, winter-plagued Monday morning.

BTW, I have to wonder about your enthusiasm for kilt wearing and sword wielding on a snow-swept streetcorner, while awaiting the wheelie bus. The spectacle could get you passed by y'now. ;)

thatgirl said...

you know they sell swords at the Parmastantown Mall right?

Liberality said...

I love it when you get enthusiastic about art, music, poetry, STUFF!

Tom Harper said...

I thought an Amebix was a type of bacteria.

susan said...

When it comes to imagining a move to the Highlands I always pictured you as more the Incredible String Band type.

Beach Bum said...

[ed.note: being culturally illiterate, I had to look the reference up]

I can say with a complete sense of certainty I have you beat on that one.

Randal Graves said...

SWA, or arrested after taking a nightstick to the gut.

thatgirl, I'm sure they sell mugs, too.

liberality, I was being enthusiastic? Maybe you're just upside-down!

tom, to Perry Como fans it might be.

susan, I can't be both, practicing mellow hippiedom and blood eagle-ing my enemies?

BB, oh I don't know, sir, I've a 19-year old who's a terrible conduit to what The Kids are into these days because she's so weird.