You know...

Teaching kids and adults how to count polyrhythms is cool and all but what I really want out of my two music degrees is a life in Accounts Payable.

Just kidding, my job rules, probably more than yours.

The Family that Slays Together, Stays Together


In the same vein as the digitial gravity I discussed yesterday, there is another phenomena I have recently fallen prey to. I don't really have a name for it yet but I bet I will by the end of this post. So here's the story if for those of you joining us mid-season:

Many moons ago (nearly two years now) a friend and I got in on the beta of a video game called World of Warcraft. World of Warcraft (hereafter referred to as WoW) is what's called a Massively Multiplayer Online Role Playing Game (hereafter refered to as MMORPG or just plain ol' MMO, sorry geeks love their acronyms). In layman's terms, it's a video game that you play with a shit load of other people from all over the globe all at the same time. Anyway, WoW is one of them and I got into the beta. Overnight, this game consumed my life. I played for hours a day until the beta phase of development closed (sometime around October) then purchased the game as soon as it was released to the public and continued on playing for almost a year more.

During this time Rebecca began playing as well and we played together. Given the distant nature of our early relationship (geographically, not emotionally), WoW served as a viable mechanism for us to communicate and "date". It was during this time that the above adage, that also serves as today's title, was coined. Long story... uh.. less long, Rebecca frequented a coffee shop where she would drink some kind of gross coffee drink and make use of their wireless network to play WoW with me. All the while, I would sit in my gross apartment and drink sweet tea and play WoW with her. She often got asked about what she was doing as passers-by could see what was going on her laptop was not your typical internet browsing or spread sheeting. If memory serves it was one of the coffee guys that coined the phrase. Anyway, for nearly a year and a half (counting the beta) I played this game on a daily basis, often for stretches that I'm ashamed to admit to the non-gaming public (hereafter refered to as Normies).

During this time some friends and I founded a guild in the game. We wanted to make sure we adhered to a high standard of excellence and not just allow any Kothar, Shemak, or Imadlesolersys into our guild. We had expectations for our current and prospective members that included, but was not limited to: a healthy appreciation for fart jokes, the ability to "be cool", and a love of foul language. I am happy to say, a year and a half later the guild we started is still going strong. It is also a matter of some pride on my part, and for the other founders, that even though the guild has been around for quite a while (as imaginary virtual coalitions go) it has remembered it's roots and is still full to bursting with fart-joking, potty-mouthed, cool-dudes-and-dudettes.

How can I possibly know this? You might ask since you remember that I quit playing some months ago. Well a few reasons, a) there's the board that I linked earlier, I stayed on it and kept in touch with several of the members even after my departure, 2) without their knowledge I planted several sleeper agents within the ranks of the guild ready to go positively batshit on my whim, and D) I started playing again a couple of weeks ago.

After Rebecca and I quit we were pretty good for a long time about overcoming our addiction. I would only occasionally check the official WoW website, which, at the height of my sickness, had been a daily ritual for months on end. Then, as the months, passed we started developing noticable ticks and twitches. We did our best not to talk about it for a long time, but the cause was obvious. We also kept in contact with a good buddy, Jared (who assured me he was going to set up a blog), who had stayed in the game and kept us rapt with news about all the cool things we were missing. Jared also constantly would tempt us to come back like a stranger with candy. Naughty, naughty candy. So I guess one name for this unnamable phenomena that sucked me back into the game could be, Peer Pressure.

I don't have as much time to play as I used to but I'm hoping to get some quality over quantity time in with the game on this second go-round. If things don't go as planned, I've still got plan Q) with finger poised directly over the batshit button.

-Kroy has gone offline


count the time in quartertones to ten

Stick It Up Your Ass Newton

I want to alert you to a previously undocumented phenomenea. You might call this a discovery of sorts. I've never really discovered anything. Unless you count the kinds of things you 'discover' when you clean out your fridge after a long winter. I actually discovered some things over the last two weeks while I was "bachin' it" while Rebecca was out of town for her new job training. The tests and trials of that period are another entry altogether. This one is about my discovery. I'm not much of a scientist and I don't think this is necessarily verifiable but it is repeatable. I'm calling it Digital Gravity, or maybe Digrivity. Anyway, it's this thing that happens to me when I'm in the house. The internet seems to exert some kind of eldritch force on my person, drawing me to it always. I've noticed that if I don't stay on task 100% of the time, I will drift inexorably toward the computer and open a brower to the internets.

This can happen even if I'm like getting ready to go somewhere and am running a few minutes late. I can't tell you how many times I've been brushing my teeth in front of the bathroom mirror, letting my mind wander harmlessly then suddenly finding myself in front of my computer typing in any number of URLs I visit regularly. I shake out of my reverie and cuss a blue streak telling myself I don't have time for that sort of thing I have to get going. Several minutes later as I'm surfing ebay, my head explodes.

I suspect that others may be similarly affected by the television, knitting, and ouija boards. All I know is that I'm helpless against it and that it is not a viable excuse for being late someplace. "Sorry I'm running a few minutes late, the internet siezed my mind." I'm starting to think the nerds that go about with aluminum foil in their back pockets may be on to something.

Anybody else out there experience anything like this?


-Kroy has gone offline


crashed a mother and son cold dead

Afternoon Quicky

I've just found something that will likely be a source of random entertainment for a really long time. It's called Bash.org. I'll let you work out the URL on your own. It's a collection of humerous IM conversations.

Here are a couple of favorites so far.

#628906 (593)

i broke my leg
masturbating is evil
<[Slaryn> O_O I hope to god those two incidents weren't related

#628022 +(568)

tohayer: My windows machine crashes scarily
tohayer: Whatever audio is playing, slows down
tohayer: Like when Dave is disconnecting Hal's memory
tohayer: "Ted... Ted... why are you opening the task manager. You're scaring me, Ted"

Give Me Sight Beyond Sight

I am happy to report that my acquisition of the aforementioned entertainment went off without a hitch and my life is now bursting with samurais named Jack.

In other news, if you watched the video I posted the other day you were likely as dumbstruck as I was the first time I watched it. I've since watched it probably three or four times since as I've shown it to others. I'm still fairly stunned by it. I feel a naughty tingle each time it pulls out further and further into space. If you're interested in knowing a little more about it there is also this video, a fully rendered version of the talk from which all that gameplay footage came originally given by Will Wright - the guy responsible for The Sims. Between each segment is about a ten minute little blurb about how they're doing all those interesting things in this game and what drove them to this end in the first place.

Even in the shorter version of the gameplay footage Will uses the buzz word "procedural" many times. I'm by no means an expert on this stuff but that's never stopped me from handing out ill-informed opinions. As I understand it, before the advent of the CD-ROM games were, for the most part, made to be as small as possible. All of the millions of lines of code, graphics, and behaviors had to squeezed onto 3.5" floppy discs. The use of algorithms was popular in order to get the maximum amount of compression. Again, I'm no math whiz but basically what that means is they had they used the player's computer to run the algorithms or formulae on the discs to get the end product. That way, they minimized the need for raw data space. Once CD-ROMs hit, then they had all this space on a disc and I game design shifted more toward filling up data than these algorithms. That's the way things have been for several years now. With this game, Spore, Maxis has gone back to this algorithmic structure for creating the world that the player occupies. So everything in the gameplay trailer you saw, except for the evolved creature and the city he built, was generated by the computer on the fly, so to speak.

This kind of thinking may be old hat in the computing world but it confounds my dumb cracker mind. I mean, I understand it on a conceptual level, about the same way that I understand, conceptually, what a black hole is. If they tell me they can generate that entire solar system, ye even a galaxy, I'll just believe them on and go on breeding my race of Thundercats™™.

What I'm really interested in, is this idea that you pull content from other people's computers. They plan to have a master database that each game synchs to and when that synching occurs they'll suck up all the things you've created in your game and re-distribute it back out to the world as random encounters. I'm really curious if you can be selective about who's content you pull down. Say I want a planet where my Thundercats™™ can live caught in an eternal struggle with a friend of mine's warlike clan of My Little Ponies™™. I would like the option to choose a race or tribe that can be my primary aggressor.

-Kroy has gone offline


mean and strong like fear

You've Probably Got Better Things to Do Anyway

Blogger has been swallowing it's own tongue for a few days and I haven't been able to update. It seems to be working now so I'll probably put something up of substance this evening. Your time is likely better spent elsewhere anyway. Shouldn't you be reading a book, calling your mama, or catching up with an old friend? Whatever. We both know you're just going to sit on your big ass and watch American Idol.

Shapeshifting Master of Darkness

It's been a slow week here I know. Everything else in my life has become secondary until my I finish downloading my torrent of Samurai Jack.

In the meantime, here's yet another video for you to enjoy. It's pretty long so if you're watching from work you may want to take it in ten minute pieces. Like tiny rewards for finishing your third-quarter projection analysis spreadsheets, or whatever it is you do.

The video itself is batting a thousand for "holy shit" factor. As in, everyone I've shown it to up to this point has, at some point, gone "Holy Shit". The future of video games? Probably more like one plausible future. I don't really have time to go into the little bit that I actually understand about this thing but if you have any interest in games check it out. If you're not but are intrigued by complex structures, check it out. If you're not but you think monkies with guns are funny, check it out. If you don't but you liked Star Trek 3, check it out. Ok, I'm done.

I am Galstaff, Sorcerer of Light!

I think I gamed with these guys at U-Con. It's a fairly long video so it may take a while to load even if you have a broadband connection. If you don't have broadband connection, you might want to think about joining the rest of us in the 21st century.

Kitty Profile: Bonham - The Feline Garbage Disposal

Name: Bonham

Origin of Name: Rock drumming legend John Bonham

Breed: Hungry

Age: 3

Hobbies and Interests: Eating, Jumping, Climbing Doorways, Stealing Porkchops, Making out with Daphne, Stealing BBQ, Making out with Scratch, Tormenting Daphne, Stealing Chicken, Napping on dark clothes.

Background: Bonham was the cat that I brought to our relationship. I'd had him for almost two years when I moved to Michigan. I got Bonham while I was still living in South Carolina. I had just gotten my first place completely by myself. Before then, I'd either lived at home or with a roommate. The one thing that struck me about living alone was the abject emptiness of the place. I was pretty busy with graduate school at the time and would often come in after the sun had down but I was used to a roommate or other animal greeting me at the door. My previous roommate had had two cats of her own. Even if she herself were not home at the time, there were at least a couple of cats to look up and disregard me immediately. You know, a little something that felt like home. Once I was on my own all I had was my milk crate loveseat (no couch yet) and the dustbunny in the corn that I had named Floppo. It soon became apparent that I needed a pet, a real pet. Some friends told me about a no kill shelter in Columbia so I checked it out.

I want to be clear on one thing. When it comes to animals, I like them. People piss me right off, but animals I like. So it was difficult not to be moved when I visited the shelter the first time and, upon entering the cat room, was immediately covered over by kitties of all ages and personality. I was primarily interested in a kitten. They had tons of kittens and the most boisterous of the kittens were the first ones to climb all over me. There were some who were obviously too rambunctious for what I wanted. Others were a little more mild mannered and I eventually found one that I thought would make a good match. It was a little girl kitty who - instead of climbing into my lap or up my shirt, heedless of the skin underneath - actively sought out my empty hands and forcibly pushed her head into them to make certain that I pet her just in case my attentions were elsewhere. Even if that meant standing up on her hind legs to reach up a bit higher to reach my hands. She really was a cutie. I had already been at the shelter for almost two hours and they were set to be closing soon so I decided I should head out.

As I was leaving the cat room (itself, an unbearably difficult act) I stopped to talk to a few of the staff members about the process of adoption. In the main lobby the staff allowed a couple of the more docile and tolerant cats and dogs to roam freely and sort act as greeters. While I was standing around talking to the staff this fairly-young-but-not-quite-a-kitten of a cat strolled up next to me along a table top. He looked like he was about a year old. I idlely reached down to give the little guy a pet to which he responded fairly naturally. I continued talking without really looking and soon I felt a pair of paws pressed insistently on my shoulder. This cat was looking up at me with his paws extended like an infant asking to be picked up. Well this was a gesture I found I was well and truly powerless against. So I reached down a bit to lift him up, as soon as he saw I was complying he gripped my shoulder firmly with his claws and helped himself up into my arms. He seemed perfectly content to be held "baby-style" perched up and looking back over my shoulder as I petted him and continued talking to the staff. At several intervals I tried to put the little fella down and he would have non of it. He'd dig his claws in and just hang on such that I couldn't. It was strange how much like an actual child he acted. He even buried his face into the hollow of my neck while I was holding him (he still does this from time to time). His story wasn't a necessarily tragic one (especially when compared to some of the rescues) the last family that had had him had to give him because of a rivalry on the other cat's part. Eventually I managed to detach him from my shoulder and get out the door and drive home. At the time I had been listening to a lot of Zeppelin, I was particularly interested in their mixed meter stuff and the way their drummer navigated the uneven waters of Jimmy Paige's oddball guitar riffs. So as soon as I got into my car something like When the Levee Breaks came on.

I considered about which cat I actually wanted and had decided on getting two cats so they could keep each other company while I wasn't around. I still had it in my mind that I would get two kittens. As soon as I came in the door, Bonham (who they were calling Rori, which I think is a terrible name for this cat) hopped right up from where he was lounging and came over to me. He seemed to remember that I was the putz that was easily taken in by his wiles. It turned out that the little girl kitten I liked had just been fixed and was unavailable for adoption for a day or two while they made sure she came through everything ok. I essentially was forced to take Bonham that day. One, to save him from the atrocious name they had given him. Two, because I would have required surgery to remove him from my shoulder a second time. I could see it in his eyes, he hated the name. He would look at me as if to say, "Have you heard what they're calling me? Rori? Do they think I'm a personal trainer or something." It really became a decision I had very little to do with. They just handed me the paperwork and told me how much he was going to cost me and I took him home and rechristened Bonham (much to his relief, I'm sure).

At first he was very co-dependent. He didn't like being alone one bit. I didn't have a very large apartment but if he lost his way between the litter box and the living room he would just stand there and cry until I came and found him. He would launch himself into my arms and refuse to be put down. If I was watching a movie or playing a game he would sit in my lap or beside me on the couch (by then I had one) with his back to me. I think it's these slightly human characteristics that fostered a kind of paternal instinct in me. He's like a child who's ass I've never had to wipe.

Soon after I brought him home I discovered that I had actually chosen a cat who was also an accomplished food critic. Not of cat food, mind you, but of people food. Whenever I cooked something or brought it in he would perch himself nearby and stare at me impatiently. This continues to this day. This cat will eat anything, anything, at least once. I once gave him a leaf of raw lettuce from a salad I was making, thinking surely he would want nothing to do with it. To my great surprise, he gulped it down and stared up at me waiting for seconds. Raw fucking lettuce. Rebecca and I come up with amusing pitches that we figure he must use on us to convince us to part with our... whatever we're eating at the time. "Oooh, you're having french fries? I looove french fries. My family way back on my gandpappy's side is French. It's in my blood you see."

The pictures are deceiving because they generally show him at rest. That's because he's only active when there are cheetos at stake, or perhaps pop tarts, chocolate chip cookies, Dutch apple crisp, sloppy joes, chilli, spaghetti, bean curry, or corn on the cob (one of his favorites). The only time he's ever acts the least bit aggressive is in defense of his hard won spoils and table scraps. Since we have introduced him to life with other cats he's become less co-dependent but is still pretty affectionate and likes nothing more than to sit down beside one of us, bury his face into our leg, and purr happily until someone makes a move for the kitchen.



-Kroy has gone offline


We come from the land of the ice and snow

I think I must be afraid of heights

(Just a word of warning to the weak of constitution, Star Wars™™ references and clichés will abound. You may also find a Lord of the Rings quote as well. That is all.)

Had a pretty interesting dream last night and just figured I'd share. It's odd and kind of strange when I actually remember my dreams, usually I have no memory of the things I dream at night. However, when I do remember, I remember a lot of them or I recall one particularly vividly. This was a case of the latter.

The first thing I remember is that I was directing a large scale space battle. Now at a glance, it's obvious to me, even in a dream state that isn't just any space battle. This is a Star Wars™™(!!!) space battle. I can only assume this has something to do with the fact that Empire at War just came out and I've had a hankerin' something fierce to play it. So anyway, I'm directing this major space battle and it's hard to tell whether or not we're winning or losing, I'm just having all my ships shoot at all the other ships and kind of hoping for the best. It seems I'm not a great tactician without my waking mind to guide me. At one point it becomes clear to me that the opposition, the rebel scum, are planning to board one of my major ships. As soon as the ships make contact with one another, my dream switches from the perspective of an RTS to an Shooter. All of a sudden, I was on the deck of my ship which was about to be boarded and cycling through an array of ordinance the likes of which God has never seen. So we, me and my faithful crew aboard the ISD Helotry awaited the boarding party with our "nines cocked," if you will. So the door blow open and who should storm aboard but Han and Chewie. Well we fought on undaunted, no scruffy looking nerf-herder or his walking carpet were going to take down my ship, especially in my fucking dream world. I loaded up my hot little sniper laser thing and put two into Chewie's forehead before he could say, "AHHH-NNNHH-GHHHHH."

I'm here to impart to you some very important wisdom. Even in the world of dreams, Wookiees are tough as balls.

I shot him. I shot him twice, in the head. Soon after I had one seriously pissed off Wookiee on my ass. So I ran. I ran fast and I ran long. I ran like my ass was on fire and my hair was catching. There were a couple of close calls and he very nearly took my head off at a couple of junctures but all the while my valiant crew was lighting that big bastard up like Yavin 4.

I eventually made it out into the parking lot of a shopping mall. Because, obviously, ISDs have their own commerce district. I warned the nearest police officer I could find that the Rebel Scum™ had boarded the ship and were on their way. He dutifully offered me his sidearm and went off to warn the populace. I turned and saw my fate before me as the tireless Chewbacca burst through the door and slowly approached. I continued backing off and loaded the pistol the cop had given me and raised it for my final showdown.

A shot rang out.

I looked up and Chewie seemed as dazed as I was but he fell. Through fire and water, from the lowest dungeon to the highest peak I fought the Wookiee of Kashyyyk, until at last I threw down my enemy and smote his ruin up on the... curb... side. Yeah, I killed him. I killed Chewbacca, with a gun. If I learned anything from the whole experience is that energy weapons are shit versus Wookiees. Ballistic weapons on the other hand, smoke their furry asses.

-Kroy has gone offline


That's why all the folks on Rocky Top get their corn from a jar

Turn the Page

Just a quick update on the audition front. The guys from the band want to have me back. It's unclear as to whether I'm "the guy" or if it's a second audition (i.e. a call back). Either way it definitely feels good to have gotten a call back. It's been a while since I actually had to go through an audition process, (since undergrad to be exact). As this is my first audition in a while I wouldn't have felt too bad about it had I not gotten a call but it's that much more pleasant to have been chosen on my first audition (especially with such short notice). I had a bass audition in Boston that I showed up to pretty well unprepared. I was a bit 'too big for my britches,' at the time and figured I could swagger in with only a few hours of practice and get the call, obviously that wasn't the case. I prepared much more completely this time and it seems that it paid off. It would start to feel futile if I put in a bunch of work and were still getting turned down.

If you had asked me one or two years ago if I'd be making a living solely in music, I'd have spit in your face, kicked you in the nuts, and then gone home and cried into my pillow. Now it seems that might have been an unnecessary reaction.

You may not see them otherwise

I took the liberty of uploading several of Rebecca's recent photos taken with her new lense. I think they are excellent. We plan on displaying several of them in the hizzy. Also, my flickr photos above were just kindof sitting there, I should take more photos.

This is my personal favorite:

Navigation in the Digital Age

I'm not sure if it was inborn or came with years of playing video games and roleplaying but somewhere along the way I got really good with maps. For a long time I confused this with being a good sense of direction. Let me assure you, they are not the same thing. If I have a detailed and physical map of whatever journey I am about to undertake, I will arrive there without any problems or hitches. If I do not, I may never be seen again. When I lived in Boston (a notoriously signless city), if I had to drive somewhere I would always take the estimated travel time and double it. This was to give me ample to drive somewhere which was not the place I had intended to go, curse the fickle gods, get lost, have a transcendental experience, and thus, become closer to nature, and eventually accidentally find my way to wherever I was going and only be about 10 or 15 minutes late. As I would pull into my destination I would just sigh to myself and say, "this is just the way of all things."

I'm also ok if I'm provided with a deluge of information (which, arguably, you could say is all a map does). I'm generally ok when driving from one large area of the country to another via the interstate. If you need to get from Kansas City to Seattle, I'm your man. If you need to get downtown from the office, the trip with me is tantamount to clogging up the toilet at your new girlfriend's parent's house on your first meeting.

I think my handy usage of maps came from endless video game playing where (more often than not) you (the player) are supplied with some kind of miniature real time map that shows your position, orientation, and local geography. See the following:

As you can see (you may click for a larger view) there is a clear and set out relationship between where you are, where you're headed, and the best way to get there. I never get lost in video games, you can ask anybody. They'll fucking tell you, "Kroy? Hellz no he don't get lost in no video games." I mean I don't know what more evidence you need other than that.

Now I don't know if you've heard this or not but I'm going to let you in on a little secret. It's not cool to be a member of the male population who easily loses their way. It's very nearly the opposite of manly to not be able to navigate from one place to another. It's far worse to have to accept defeat and seek outside assistance in the finding of your destination. As you can imagine, this leaves me in a great pickle.

I think the utopian answer to my enigma is found in the warm bosom of personal and vehicular GPS. A friend relayed to me an experience he had with one such unit mounted in a rental car. The car could be told where you needed to 'git'. Apparently, it already knew where you were. Beyond that it is merely a process of riding the illuminated swells into port. This particular unit could measure, with staggering precision, your distance between your current location and your nearest change of course and would provide gentle reminders, like a responsible friend. With these GPS units there is also the added benefit of participating in a hobby known as Geocaching. A pastime dedicated to going places and finding things.

I envision a perfect world where, when I set out to a new and uncharted locale for some dark purpose, I simply reach down and engage my in-life minimap and run, ski, or drive on my way without the quiet murmuring of sacred prayers to ancient gods for safe passage.

-Kroy has gone offline


The People's Republic of chocolaty delicious

Rhymed with Collision

As mentioned previously (I would link it, but, what would be the point) I had something this weekend that I dared not talk about. Well it has come and gone and now I dare.

It actually wasn't too huge a deal. I just auditioned with a local cover band. They had a flyer up on the Git-fiddle Center bulletin boards so I ripped offa tab and gave 'em a call. The guy I talked to was cool and I pretty much explained my situation upfront to him. My playing isn't top notch but my gear is. Wait. Scratch that, reverse it. Yeah, so I says, "well my gear kinda stinks, I'm in the process of upgrading it but that won't happen before Sunday," I says. He seemed largely unconcerned and we bounced a few ideas of how we could overcome such rig shortcomings, were it necessary to do so. Anyway, they had me to play with them on Sunday. They gave me a few tunes to learn, one or two with decently mobile bass lines and the other more representative of the kind of music they are involved in.

The audition set list went as follows:

• "Summer of '69" - Bryan Adams
• "Sold Me Down the River" - The Alarm
• "Hard to Handle" - The Black Crowes
• "Rock 'n Roll Fantasy" - Bad Company
• "Gimme Three Steps" - Lynyrd Skynrd

I didn't have a lot of time to get everything together (and I had never even heard two of the songs) but it turned out to be a great exercise for me. Who knew that "Gimme Three Steps" had such a bitch of a bassline. Anyway, I went in and played and it felt great. It's been a really long time since I played music with other human beings. After we ran through the audition songs we just kind of screwed around and played some stuff from their set list that I hadn't prepared but felt I knew well enough to stumble through (i.e. "You Really Got Me Going" - The Kinks, "White Wedding" - Billy Idol). We even played through the old Stevie Ray Vaughn song "Pride and Joy" which was another great exercise where I had to invent (while playing) a convincing walking bass line over a blues progression. That's not something I'm used to but it's the whole reason I started taking jazz bass lessons and I can tell they're already paying off. It wasn't 100% solid but there were a few moments where I actually sounded like I knew what I was doing. Anyway, they said they'd get back to me about whether or not they want me to join sometime this week. Honestly, I don't care if I get the gig or not. It'd be great if I did, just to get the chance to play regularly with some people again. Even if I don't know, I know I played well and if somebody just outplayed me or has better sounding gear. I can live with that. Either way I'll keep auditioning there are few womb-to-tomb certainties in this life: Death, Taxes, and the shortage of good bass players.

Shit, all that sounds awfully content and not-jaded. I'm breaking character!

Grumble, grumble, foul language, insults, warmongering, etc.


-Kroy has gone offline


you’ll never see me no more

Rat Bastard

I had intended on having a productive life. That was, until, my friend Jared showed me this. I'll understand if you never get any more work done ever.

Rhymes with "Collision"

Now I must go prepare for the weekend. I dare not say too much of it, save only that it involves me, four other men, and a lot of sweat. If you're in the camp of my well-wishers, then wish me well. If you're not, I hope your mom gets the herpes. I'll make some sort of report on it next week. Until then, I gotta go stretch out.

So Dark the Con of Man

For the last few years, as often as humanly possible, I have made a yearly pilgrimage to Atlanta, Georgia around Labor Day weekend. The reason, of course, is DragonCon. An event, I've best heard described as "Mardi Gras... for dorks". That pretty much sums it up in full.

For anyone who's not familiar with the idea, DragonCon is an ephedrine and vodka fueled weekend where anyone who's into... anything, and come be around other people into things they're into. See below.

Are you into role playing games? DragonCon has a room large enough park the USS South Carolina dedicated exclusivly to tournament style and more casual role playing. The room is filled wall to wall with tables so if you're in actual role playing games or miniatures, there's room for you in the Grand Hall. Looking at now, I can hardly think of a better name for a room that will play host to the innummerable tales of adventure over the long weekend - Grand Hall indeed, Heorot might be a better name, or perhaps Meduseld. Anyway there are scheduled games that are hosted and run by guys and gals who have the DragonCon stamp of approval. RPGA has a big presence there, if you're into that. Of course, there are plenty of tables which are just open to the public for throwing down old skool style. Also people play CCGs, stuff like Diceland, and virtually any other activity that requires a large flat and rigid surface.

There's also a LAN room. This room is less large and you could probably only park a few tractor trailers in it. Because of this, it gets a little cramped and there is usually a line of people waiting for "next" on the next PC that opens up. Even in the wee hours, this room smells of cooking silicon and unwashed nerds. I tend to shy away from it. Much as I like computer games, I can do that at home. At any rate, all weekend long they're running versions of Battlefield 2, Quake, Warcraft 3 and anything else that can accomdate 20 to 30 PC players at a time.

The real reason to go to DragonCon, -in fact the reason that every person should go to DragonCon at least once in their life, even if everything I've said up to this point has been complete jibberish- is just the sheer spectacle of it. As you can see not everything is sci-fi or fantasy related, granted most of it is, but there are plenty of cinema TV and generally humor offerings. They say a picture is worth a thousand words so hang on while I drop about one-hundred grand worth on you. (I'll try to keep these safe for work but no promises.)

Costumes range from really quite good to über-lame. Seriously, is that guy even trying? There are Jones's and Stormtroopers galore, often with a few clever twists on old themes. There are lots of video game and movie costumes; comics book characters and anime costumes tend to be the most popular though.

As is probably already apparent, many con-goers (usually of the female variety) use the long weekend as a perfectly good excuse to go about half-naked. No seriously, a lot of them do. That's... that's the part that's probably not work safe. So, uh, don't get canned or anything on my account. The girls' costumes range from damned accurate to less specific and generally themed to not-so-much-a-costume-as-some lingerie and electrical tape.

As such, the way at DragonCon is fraught with peril. You must always be alert as you walk around at these events, lest you end up like this guy. Poor bastard. Being a lech is one thing, having it immortalized on the internet for all time is quite another.

Anyway, I'm already looking forward to the trip this year. God willin' and the creek don't rise, we'll be there with bells on - Rebecca, possibly in less. We are already starting to make plans to get people there, this will be my third year to go to these hallowed grounds. Rebecca and others that we may be dragging along will be popping their DragonCon cherries. I remember my first time. Mmmm-mmmm.

So far costume ideas for me are George Lucas and Gordon "The Free Man" Freeman. We'll see how that goes. Updates as they come.

-Kroy has gone offline


The Father Hen will call his chickens home

Movies in the 2003+3

Every two or three months I surf toward Apple Trailers and spend an hour or so looking at film trailers for movies that are our or are coming out soon. Today happened to be one of those days. Would you like to see what I dug up? I just bet you would!

File Under: Awesome
Hoodwinked
Ice Age 2
The Davinci Code
Happy Feet
Cars
X3
Mission Impossible: III (as much as I hate Tom Cruise)
Pirates of the Caribbean 2
Freedomland

File Under: We Can't Come Up With Any New Plots So We'll Just Regurgitate Some Of The Old Shitty Ones We Have Laying Around and/or Remake It Entirely And Not Even Attempt to Rewrap It
The Shaggy Dog
When a Stranger Calls
The Pink Panther (as much as I like Steve Martin)

File Under: Gay Cowboys
Brokeback Mountain

File Under: Yet Another Video Game That Will Make a Terrible Movie
Silent Hill

Ok just one more:
File Under: It's Been a Few Years, Maybe Everyone Forgot About Matrix 2 and 3
V for Vendetta

The reason I have to do this (watch trailers online, not overabuse unfunny gags), is because I haven't owned a TV with cable for almost four years. Once I moved out to go to grad school I just never bothered to hook it up. Months later, I realized I didn't really miss it. Even when I was living at home and had access to cable I only watched a few shows on a few channels. So my plan is to stay cable free until someone at Comcast or DirectTV wises up and offers cable networks a la carte.

The Nature of Hemispheres, part 2

(I'm trying, really trying to keep this shorter than the last one)

So college: college was kinda weird starting out. Toward the end of my high school days I had positively no idea of what I wanted to do with myself. I've always been interested in scholarship in one form or another so (since I was still very involved in religion), the thought came to me to study religion and philosophy. I went so far as to apply and be accepted to the School of Religion and Philosophy at the Western Kentucky Unversity at Bowling Green. During the summer I had a bit of an epiphany. Which was: I didn't really want to be a philosopher or religious scholar.

This was, of course, something like a month before classes began. In a bit of a panic, and to my mama's relief I'm sure, I applied to the University of North Alabama (TUNA). I attended TUNAs summer orientation and met with the advisors of the music dept. My background in rock music was, actually, not a huge surprise to them. They have a program tailored to musicians who are interested in a carreer in music business as opposed to education or performance. They called it their Commercial Music degree, or option I as it was tagged. It wasn't a full-on degree. It was a general degree in music with a concentration in commercial music, or some crap. I didn't finish that degree so I'm not sure. To keep this from dragging on (more) endlessly, let me sum up by saying I joined the school, learned to read (music), and was essentially trained as a classical musician. I auditioned for and got into the Collegiate Singers, the school's auditioned choir. In another bit of cosmic kismet, my first major choral undertaking was the Carl Orff's Carmina Burana, the choral music cognate to heavy metal.

Over the course of the next year I formed a deep appreciation for classical music, particularly organ and choral. I remained in choir for all but one semester of the 5 years of my undergraduate degree (I took my time). I sang in every choral ensemble the university offered. I even played bad jazz guitar for the vocal jazz ensemble. I sang everything from 15th century madrigals, to really fucked up 20th century choral pieces with taped electronics, and pretty much everything in between. I actually still remember the concert when I decided that someday I wanted to play the pipe organ. We were singing for the school's convocation and Dr. Tom Ed Moore was playing the organ as per usual. You must understand, I grew up in a baptist church. I'd never even really heard a pipe organ before. He played a couple of majestic and showy pieces (pretty sure he played the Widor, Toccata). The choir was situated right under the pipe chamber and I remember thinking, "Holy shit, what else have I missed out on?" I talked to the professor afterward about the organ fairly extensively and so began a relationship which absolutely shaped me as a musician. Dr. Moore and I developed and almost old-world kind of apprenship. I began studying organ with him during my sophomore year. I'm sorry to say I was a terrible organ student. I didn't practice nearly enough and by and large probably only managed to shorten his life by a few years. Fortunately, a lot of good came of these lessons, I began traveling with Tom Ed to his weekly gigs as a page turner. I learned a ton about organ registration and met a lot of great people during all that. It was also during this time that I became interested in composing music. Tom Ed is a composer himself (M.M. in Composition) and was glad to devote part of my hopeless organ lesson to the equally hopeless compositions I began bringing him.

My time at TUNA was sort of crowned by my senior recital. I wrote, organized, rehearsed, and produced a full hour-long concert of original compositions, the only of it's kind before or since. I don't actually remember a lot about the process other than that it was a ton of work. I also remember also very nearly getting fired from my night job as a grocery store manager. I would come into work after a full day of classes, composing, rehearsing, planning, etc. and sit in my little office and read fantasy books. I still have a few programs from the performance. I'll have to see if I can get one scanned or something and put up an image of it sometime. It also featured a performance by the incomperable Ms. Hill.

From my undergrad, I wanted to continue my studies in composition in a more concetrated way. I courted UMKC a little bit but in the end they turned me down for admission. This kind of came a blow to me. Up until then I was used to being a rather large fish in something akin to a gold fish bowl. I eventually applied to and was accepted to the University of South Carolina. To this day, looking back, I'm still amazed that they allowed me into their program. Around my second year of my masters degree, my audition portfolio of compositions was returned to me. I thumbed through it nostalgically and was positively horrified at what I found. I won't bore you with all the details but one in particular has always stuck in my mind. First a little setup: a common musical practice is to slow down at the end of a phrase or piece to emphasize its finality. The musical direction for this practice is called ritardando (abbreviated rit., verbally abbreviated ritard.) It's Italian, lots of music stuff is. Above the system, I had actually written slight retard. "Watch out for the slight retard," I almost certainly said in a rehearsal. Someday, when I have an office at a respectable college I plan on having that page, framed and my slight retard highlighted, hang right next to my doctorate.

Luckily Drs. Rogers and Bain forgave my ritardedness and let me into their fine school. Shortly after my arrival at USC I realized I knew virtually nothing, and set about relieving this trouble as best I could. An incredible amount of growth as a person and as a musician and composer came to pass while I was at USC (try to keep the shock off your faces, it's only polite). I continued to sing occasionally at USC but mainly focused on honing my craft as a composer. The rock n' roll and blues I had cut my musical teeth on had gone to the back burner.

After USC, I decided to move to Boston to become the next big thing in the world of contemporary classical music. The move was punctuated by a lack of preparation on my part and ended with me living in an apartment that smelled like terror. It was also during this time that I met the Lady Rebecca. Soon after, it became apparent that Boston was not where I needed to stay. It was a great town but not for me. Save writing and recording a couple of goofy geek songs with a friend, not much musical happened to me while I was in Boston.

Which brings me to the last year (in 3500 words or less), I moved to just outside of Motown a little under a year ago. I began teaching music (guitar, bass, and theory) privately about six months ago and I wish to God I had thought to try this sooner. I have Rebecca to thank for that. I really enjoy teaching and it has shown me that it's possible to make a living as a musician without having to teach in a college. Before my move here, I had diluted myself into thinking that.

Musically today I'm still wrestling with the same dualisms I have been for years. Am I classical composer or a bluesman? The short answer is "yes". I'm still working out how that's going to play out. Since I started teaching I really began honing my bass chops again. I've started studying with a teacher and am studying jazz. I would love to start/join a band and be able to play out. I also intend to keep composing. I haven't written anything major since my thesis. (I'm currently working on my wedding music, it'll happen Rebecca/Serena, I promise.) I'm taking organ lessons again and this time around I'm actually practicing. It's amazing what that does for your playing. I think of my hiatus from composing that I'm learning to be a musician, finally. By honing my bass and organ playing, I'm able to go inside someone else's music on a level that I never had to do as chorister and never knew how to do as a composer. This never-ending oscillation between my rock roots and my classical sensibilities is something that I've been working on for several years now. I suspect I'll never fully get it wrapped up but it helps to know that I'm, by far, not the only musician dealing with that sort of duality.

Ok jebus, now if you've read all that, firstly, you deserve a treat, and, secondly, you should have some inkling as to what informs my opinions on music. Which I will, undoubtedly, unload on you in the coming days/weeks. I may give it a rest for a fews before I dive back into all that again. All this serious talk is a drag.

-Kroy has gone offline


My friend Fats he's a hell of a guy