I've been feeling ABSOLUTELY restless lately, and for mostly that reason, things like Gaming, schoolwork, and this Blog, have fallen slightly out of my favor. I don't know, maybe it's the forced happiness of Jolly Ol' Saint Nick's season that weighs me down, maybe it's finals, ... or maybe I'm just feeling a touch bipolar.
Regardless, this Blog flailing about without updates is never something I want to see happen, because it happens with far too many blogs, and it's a real disservice to anyone reading. Anyone? ... Yeah, I thought so. Anyways, I apologize for the lack of anything interesting on here, and I hope to rectify that sometime soon. That sometime being some day, that isn't today.
The only tidbit of information I could think of conveying at this moment is that, For Hero: For Fool, by Subtle, is probably my shoe-in candidate for album of the year. Even if some of my favorite artists dropped their best albums this year, (which they didn't) Subtle would probably still handle the competition just based on sheer creativity and style.
The genre: Indie Electronic Hip-Hop with a dash of Rock, and a generous helping of the worlds most competent lyrics, beats, and speechcraft.
Note the full glory in the lyrics to Return of the Vein:
Things are in black and white
You are the sole member of tonight's studio audience, splayn before you is the made for t.v.
2-d back drop of some classic cooking show set. the dead man from one dollar,
only 30 years younger is stood contra posto before you.
Front and center on stilts, pressing the drawn fangs
of a tore in two fork
tenderly against the quivering lip of a plastic champagne flute.
Several beads of clean water
quickly slip from the pulled teeth tips
and tangle softly to a body
in its empty crystal pit.
Fingers in your mouth out of fear...
your shadow's somehow shot itself up on the wall behind him
throwing a peace sign up like the devil's horns,
above his ever so signature presidents head silhouette.
He catches your eye and calls you up to the stage.
while he opens a wee door in his overall armor.
He then shows you a change slot bore
where his appendix would be
and says softly, "see how" he too
had been bit by the audience once...
He takes to the floor from his stilts.
As you make for beside him on stage,
you bump exposed flesh by mistake.
the heat from his hurt has its way with the hairs on your neck,
till your glasses go black
and you lean back on a yell...
just then he wiggles a pec with the quickness,
and wishes your mouth flooded shut
full of steel wool, safety glass, and loosed teeth.
your shadow now cringed in tight behind you
is puddled up soaking the skin on your heels...
you're busy scraping your tongue down,
like a wildman with the jagged edge of your house key.
and angry dream George is once more top his stilts,
still swallowing your yell.
calling your attention yet again to the slot tore in his side
as he shouts something down about you
sucking out venom.
you motion to cover your eyes
while your shadow breaks free and lets dive,
through your back, sucking in its blacks
as you gag from the pit of your person