100 Nosebleeds, Run Electric, Die Innocent, Fake Your Paradise, Unwind… And What Now…?

I feel it is finally safe to make an announcement. After many months of planning this little catastrophe, I finally realize I am devoted to it, although it is going to be a very slow process. It will come together, though, and hopefully by the end of the year or a bit after.

After many months of contemplation, planning, scrapping, giving up on it altogether, and ultimately beginning it, I have started writing a “book” of sorts! Now, I am not with any sort of publisher or anything. But this is still very important to me. I do plan on posting it on various sites after it is finished, but that will not be for a very long while.

The title is indefinite as of now, but my considerations include “Dragmaster”, “The Crown”, and “Peril Street”, although it is unlikely that any of these wil make the final cut. However, the names have all helped to form the final idea for the final product, and I could not be more thrilled with how the story has come so far. I have finished the first two chapters, both filled with character development and a twist already! I am currently nearing the end of the third chapter. I have never felt such an adrenaline and rush when writing until this story came about.

The idea came to me as I thought of the video game “Fallout 3”. The Fallout universe is one affected by nuclear war, the land being completely ruined, the government practically irrelevant. This idea of civilization being completely lost with their government struck a cord in me, and I decided to try to write a short story about it. However, the short story became one of great proportions, and I just knew it had to be a full-length “book” of sorts!

Although it is very early in the writing process, I do want to give a general description of the novel’s basic idea:

Aiden Pryce is a young man without a cause. The world is in shambles, destroyed by a nuclear war triggered by natural resources. Aiden has no home, no friends, and no family. His self-esteem has been tarnished by his past, his father killed in the war, his mother becoming depressed and angry. After leaving a group of morally unjust Roamers, Aiden meets William Phoenix, a man who is a family friend, through complete chance. Aiden is offered a chance to live in a small community in what once was New York City, but it is a place that is just as bitter as the world outside. The only security offered is the walls of the room he sleeps in. And even with a scholar with a longing for the past, a beautiful woman to entice us all, and a face Aiden is not happy to see with him on his little journey, no one is safe from the world outside…

So there you have it. I spilled two character names (Aiden Pryce, William Phoenix) and hinted at other characters that are soon to come in the story. 

Although I am merely trying to have fun with this, I am incorporating some allusions and symbolism throughout. There have already been two instances of foreshadowing, comparisons to dogs, and someone with the initials GWB, whom is supposed to mirror a real-life person. The general themes include not taking life for granted, death, innocence, life, and the will to survive. It is particularly dark, although Aiden’s asshole personality has forced a smile onto my face a few times.

Expect more news on this story soon! I will give updates whenever I can. 🙂

WHERE.WE.ARE

“Where We Are”

TS Anthem Lyrical Content

*If needed as of yet.

Verse #1 – 0:00-0:48

With every move set in place the world’s scene dances on

And I sit all near unphased, same old electric song

Vinyl mannequins posed dancing, bleeding all that’s wrong, yeah

Some nights life is all the same, unwinding past the bar

Where our hearts meet the axis, lives burned, adorning scars

We sit on the edge and watch the city fall apart

“Bridge” #1 – 0:49-1:30

Throughout all time we ponder every scar

Begging for some dead hope

Eyes on stars

Singing a song of regret I slam shut

All the goddamned black doors

Going down, failing wings can’t hold all I know now

No loving for a dreamer, this is all I’ve got, all I hold

Chorus – 1:31-2:12

Where we are every night

Is all we need to know

In my blood, truth through love

Bleeding what needs to show

We are young, seeing the coast

The redemption

It’s the world’s edge

The bright lights, jet lag’s bad side

The resistance

That’s where we are

*Verse #2

Memories sit on the shelf from the winter’s last fall

Wallow in despair I’ve made, no peace in war at all

The preachers say it is the day to revise myself

I’ve never going to change, send me the disregard

Whispers, calamities breathe down my neck in the dark

Claw at my monsters, I plan on only seeing stars

*”Bridge” #2

We’ve died too many times for living young

Our business is unsung

And I am

Forced down onto your darkest crutch
I miss it so damn much

They need me living on through yesterday’s cold loss

My heart’s found a standard, not living a lost cause, lost cause

**CHORUS REPEAT

I do not usually take great pride in the things I write. But it was inevitable that I would come to love this as soon as the first few lines came out. This is my take on what Bentley Jones calls the “TS Anthem”. I do not feel that the lyrics are too complex for a rock-electro-banger song, but it was quite difficult getting the right words out. I could not get too metaphorical with this song, but I was fine with that. Simplicity is something I rarely go for and it was nice to give my mind a break instead of searching for what an inanimate object could be representative of.

Since the demo only gave a first part or so of the song, I focused primarily on what content we have been given. I made an assumption that the next verse and hook/bridge would follow the same pattern and I took it upon myself to continue on. For now I will stop here. Knowing typical song structure, the third verse usually differs from the first two in both structure and syllable count. Hopefully this is what people were expecting lyric-wise.

I was taken aback by the word “anthem”, though. I considered writing something humorous along the lines of inside jokes, references to the artist’s music and videos, and an overall humorous feel. However, upon hearing the demo, I realized what I could do with this. The chorus popped into my head the second I heard it, and “Where We Are” became the “working title” of sorts for myself. I’m still making EXTREMELY minor edits to the lyrics, such as fixing things that don’t sound correct when I sing them aloud. But the song will remain practically the same.

My rambling seems to be getting a bit lengthy. Have a good day, fellow readers.

When-This-Dance-Is-Over

My days as of late have consisted of migraines and new musical albums. Within Temptation’s absolutely amazing “Hydra” has been keeping my mood up as I fought through a severe strep throat and fun.’s “Some Nights” is finally within my hands. The past week has been ridiculously exhausting. Perhaps it was because I was sick, but I was busy throughout the week.

But the new week has brought on some exciting news: I am going to be contributing my lyrical abilities to an actual song by electronic artist Bentley Jones! He has been wanting to create a track with contributions from his fans since the year began and I figured I’d give it a shot. The style is unfamiliar for me to be writing for, but I am not unfamiliar with what is expected from a pop rock track.

Short update, but I felt I needed to talk about something aside from writing.

The Howling

Possibly one of the strangest things about my writing, whether songs or poems, is  the involvement of paranormal and fictional entities. My life has been filled with fascination about what might exist and what might not. I’m not ashamed to say I believe spirits and demons exist. But ghosts and Hell’s soldiers aren’t even the most common monster among these piles of writings. The fictional werewolf is the most common.

I feel that my interest in the fictional lycanthrope stems from a novel by Toby Barlow titled “Sharp Teeth”. It’s one of my favorite books, written in the form of free verse poetry. It’s well written and contains all the elements we expect from a werewolf-related novel: horror, humor, romance, and some melancholy moments. The plot itself revolves around a territory war in the city of Los Angeles among various “packs” of lycanthrope creatures.

Cover of Toby Barlow’s novel “Sharp Teeth”.

A few weeks before Christmas, I wrote a long, narrative poem titled “The Werewolf’s Musings”. Now that I own a functioning computer, I can post much longer writings and posts, and this is going to be the first of many. Please let me know what you think and check out “Sharp Teeth” by Toby Barlow!

“The Werewolf’s Musings”

The moon is my mirror

Full, shining against the sky of broken wishes and dreams

Signaling the loaded gun to release the lead

And my metal-made body emerges beneath the costume of skin

Shattering the face of a man who is not I

Icy winds howl

And my own voice returns the call

The sounds of freedom mingle into a song that sets me at peace

My lungs steady, my muscles ache from the transformation

Suddenly, the moonlight’s own song escalates

Into a cascaded demand fro the darkest of deeds and thoughts

Murder, blood, meat, fat, marrow, guts, bones, passion, rage, and freedom

Silly freedom

Only when the full moon prowls on the unsuspecting masses

Are we allowed out of the cage of battered brains and vintage ribs

But not for a personal adventure or to embrace nostalgia on the edge

But for a hunt with the pack

The lust, the hunger, has stretched into my very heart

An adventure does come

Through rat-covered alleys and cities of troubled men

Starving children, abused women, deadbeats, and other rats

But the miserable dance of life was forced to a bloody end

For a few particular beings within their own disconnect

The blood of a young mother spatters against my eyes

Painting a vision of a bloody masterpiece

Her body, her soul, radiant, as it found the stairway to the skies

Outstretched to absolving freedom

Trapped in the kiss under Life’s wretched veil

Locked behind tattered ribs and another false man’s blue eyes

‘Why not me?’ I beg the moon

‘But, again, why me?’ I never am returned the answer I seek

I almost envy them, the vile, twisted, fat creatures

With freedom branded onto iron souls

While chains bind my heart to the moon

To an undesired devotion

The lone wolf weeps among these hills of individual thought

Freedom; how easily the monsters shackle it around their throats

Just like the tyrant moon, tattooing their bodies with thick ink

But I’m tired of chains

And those tattoos are out of my claw’s reach

A month passes; in the sky dangles the full moon

My eyes his at after the venomous transformation

Winds press against my face and squall against my chest

Within is the echo, intertwined with a mocking tone, ‘Freedom’

My eyes bleed; the moon has ultimately given the answer

It will only tease me

Sharp teeth clench

Gums bleed; how badly I wish to bite and tear its hand

Angst and rage pound my heart like a black drum

Reteaching the lessons of anger and blood-lust

The true faith is shattered; I am a lunar slave

Envying the place where dreaming ends

And where only human dreams are translated

Written into an ancient script titled “Reality”

‘The Black Symphony’s Toccata’

“The Black Symphony’s Toccata”

The whole world is watching the symphony
The song is one of great vitality
Horns blare the screams frim the back
‘Run faster’
Drums on the dirt louder and stronger
And I run

The conductor’s wand gleams silver in the light
A red flare as he conducts the trio
Strings sing shrill melodies with winds fighting for glory
‘Heart will be a bleeding blossom’
The march is fading back to the beginning
Why are we running?

The parades fall slowly
Until only violas smoke under the spotlight
With traitors, composers
Watching as the conductor’s sharp baton swings my reckoning
And the strings freeze
Letting the scream hang on the air

.Werewolf at a Funeral.

.Werewolf at a Funeral.

There sits the werewolf at the funeral
Sixteen-dollar haircut, adorning shined coats
Teeth sharp, gleaming peaks a sore thumb among the damsels
Whom the man in the ivory box had known like nefarious drugs
The wolf’s wife being his most deadly addiction

And the preacher goes on
As white teeth carve a white crescent moon
Through a full-fanged smile

Note: My absence is due to the lack of a working computer. I have not given up on In Cities. Expect a few more short snippets soon.

The City’s Electric Tonight

All things come to an end. Love, life, and the universe will all cease to exist at some point in time. And while these three things will fade in millions of years, something else I hold dear is going to cease to exist in 2015: the alternative rock band Anberlin.

It’s been quite a journey with this band. I discovered the band as I read a piece of writing on a site for author’s of all sorts. At the end of the “chapter”, the writer stated the song “Paperthin Hymn” by Anberlin fit the chapter. The title of the song struck a chord in me and I felt impulsed to download it. It sat on my phone’s music library for about a month before I gave it a listen. Since hearing the track, I have come to acquire two albums and download another on iTunes. I have fallen absolutely in love with the band.

And now, one year later, they are disbanding. I’m not in hysterics, as music lives on forever. But knowing that a band I have come to love and respect has been a bit upsetting in my opinion. In my last post I spoke of the song “(*Fin)”‘s effect on me, and that is exactly what this band has done to me. They’ve evoked emotions and changed a lot about myself. Honestly, I did not know what sort of artist I wished to be up until I heard the guitar-riddled sounds of “Feel Good Drag”.

The band is going to release one final album and tour the world for a final time and I have made it a priority to see them. With this being my only chance to see a band that changed me as a person, I feel it is an experience that is vital to my closure with them disbanding.

With that, I obliged to thank them. Anberlin, you have shown me a lot about myself and about the world that I never saw. You made me question things I never thought to question, evoked ideas in my mind for my own lyrical content, and you continue to fuel me with every last lyric sung and every last song played. I am eternally devoted to you as a fan. It is a bittersweet goodbye, but I am not in a purgatory of sadness and anger. I am grateful for what you have done for the past twelve years and all that I have learned in this past year in which I truly was able to understand you. Thank you. (*Fin).

Greedendency – “Godspeed”

Throughout our lives, we gain a sort of dependency upon our fellow human beings. Our reliance in one another dates far back to our very beginning, and greed was just as fresh as our friendly dependency. Beings under the influence of pure avarice are all around us and this Deadly Sin was one particular element that allowed me to create a song titled “Godspeed”.

Although not entirely focused on greed and selfishness, it does show this element and how desperation can lead to a human connection during our darkest hours. Yet the individual I speak of within these lyrics is one despised by many, whom only wants forgiveness and love before death. Overall, it is a sing of vengeance and spoken from an unforgiving narrator.

Godspeed

‘Godspeed’ the last ditch letter sings

Your days are dying, and I’m an expected savior
But I’m not in the set state of panic
Vegas is always full circle and it just broke out
I’m a mountain and the hitman’s here

Other masked man is out here tonight
I never needed broken guidance from you
Set to shame, but that’s another part of me
I’m a black soul among your prized jewels

It’s my life and I don’t keep any restraints
I’m no machine to your bidding, my last wish to you
Godspeed is all my last ditch letter reads

Alcohol is studied over the books
It all shows through stains in the old young man’s tears
But you’re between sharp teeth in the abyss of life’s cavities
The ruined city ahead just became New York

We stand tall

Other masked man is out here tonight
I never needed broken guidance from you
Set to shame, but that’s another part of me
I’m a black soul among your prized jewels

It’s my life and I don’t keep any restraints
I’m no machine to your bidding, my last wish to you
Godspeed is all my last ditch letter reads

We stand tall; the king of corruption

is dead
Expect me to be the streetlight on Misery Lane
But I’m not on fire; I don’t care
We stand tall

O

ther masked man is out here tonight
I never needed broken guidance from you
Set to shame, but that’s another part of me
I’m a black soul among your prized jewels

It’s my life and I don’t keep any restraints
I’m no machine to your bidding, my last wish to you
Godspeed is all my last ditch letter reads

We stand tall

Godspeed; the last ditch letter bleeds

Songs of Blades, Inhuman Men Without Shame

One particular thing that stands out in my mind is the topic of insanity and murder. My fascination is not because I find murder and early deaths shocking, but I often think of one strange thing: what if they aren’t those that we deem “crazy”? Perhaps we are those who have no real grasp on who or what we are. Many months ago, a little poem came out of my thoughts (as I was watching the legendary TV series Dexter):

The Canvas’ Song

They say a killer is an artist

And I’m the Michelangelo among them

Precisely sliced legs, buckets of brutality and blood

I go out to paint as the moonlight sings

Only the monsters in men’s bodies are what I want

The ones who kill, destroy, sin and love

The feeling of innocent on their serenading blades

My blade sings the canvas’ song; a sing of crimson redemption

My personal opinion is that acts of murder and pain caused on purpose are horrendous, but I find it fascinating that people still react based off of simple human instinct. They are so devoid of emotion that they learn to adapt to their environment, and than strike when the monster says so. It’s absolutely fascinating to me. I mean, just imagine walking down a crowded, busy street. Now, how many of those various people that you walked by just might have thought of committing an act of brutal instinct and homicide? Perhaps only I truly think of this, being as observant and paranoid as I am. Yet it is still a fascinating idea.

Just Another Paper Being: Crumpled, Revised, Someone New At Each Day's Sunset