About two-plus-years-ago I was going through this really craptastic period in my life. I had split up with a long-term boyfriend of six years. I worked excessively at a position that required strange hours and very little human contact. I was up alot when no one was awake. The sky was always that dark, deep blue, the color of midnight. I was morose and lonely. I spent a lot of time on the internet amusing myself. Through my work's limitless bandwith I found Pandora radio.



For entertainment purposes, I put in Nine Inch Nails, Jeff Buckley, and Morphine and hit "go."



What did Pandora deliver to me?



Amazing, moody music. Piano-driven guitarwork. Lyrical Subterfuge. I was impressed.



I speak, loosely, of my first impression of the Twilight Singers. Fortuitiously (for me) named, a couple of songs that moved me-- and I don't mean moved me in a Tenacious-D-lyric-telekinesis-kind-of-way.



Immediately I looked the band up. I was surprised to see that it was an amalgamation of former Afghan-whigs bandmembers and a few faces I remembered from my high school days (Mark Lanagan? Hello? Screaming Trees?) Hell, I remembered the song "Gentlemen." Who was this band, where had they been? More importantly, where the hell had I been?



Greg Dulli? Yeah? I had heard of the mythical "Fat Greg Dulli" 'zine when I lurked about in the cool kids section of the record store in high school. The zine-- in which even in today's digital age I have yet to personally verify its existance-- only seems to subsist as a few excerpts posted on Summerskiss and some surly interviews with Mr. Dulli himself. But scans of the magazine itself? Non-existant.



I'm sure this is a good thing. From what I've read, it seems that the zine was a nasty piece of work. It portrayed Mr. Dulli in a negative light, no doubt and I had read some references to some very poor photographs of its namesake.



But why go after Greg?



After a while, I kind of got it. The magazine was more or less directed at this persona that Greg seemed to embody through his songwriting with the Whigs. Going back to listen to that stuff and compare it to The Twilight Singers was like looking in a photo album. Every misdeed, every tall tale was set out here in technicolor.


I'll write more on this later when my head isn't so swimmy-feeling.

Posted by Lux at 1:17 PM | Permalink | Comments

Labels: NaBloPoMo

Posted by Lux at 2:37 PM | Permalink | Comments

Well, my husband and I have decided that we're going to hold off on playing WoW for a while. We had a disasterous patch and a disasterous set of personal/relational problems that surfaced shortly thereafter.

The fault of this lies squarely on my own shoulders. In truth, I had been becoming too friendly with another guild member in a manner that was threatening to my marriage. This guild member and I exchanged emails and pictures and several explicit phone calls. I am humiliated and ashamed of myself. I am even more disturbed by my lack of concern of my husband's feelings. That's the part that I guess I will write about later-- how I feel like I am a sociopath, how I am no longer intuitively in touch with other's feelings (and not just anyone's feelings, how I had lost touch with my own husband's feelings), how I have lost my beowulfian peaceweaving ability. The Empathy which I claim to posess seems to be subdued and ignored.

I have explanations and rationalizations for my behavior. My account, a veritable recitation of the events is unforgivable and will not be written about here now.

So we return together to both focus on our relationship-- to figure out why we've persisted these six years (and less than one, of marriage)-- and maybe we can play again.

I won't act like I don't miss the time sink and the coping mechanism that WoW provided. My husband is worth it.

Labels: WoW

Posted by Lux at 11:13 PM | Permalink | Comments

I'm frustrated that I am unable to get lyrics to any of the songs online by Denver Dalley's band, Intramural. Many of the songs are published elsewhere.



In particular, the song "This is Landslide" feat. Greg Dulli resonates with me.


Here it is, courtesy of imeem:






Lyrics (as best as I can get them):

memory is the fall which cook myself at dawn
memory is the cross that I hang myself upon

so cover me with the sun
that I am unable to outrun
with the light that's begun
to undo what has been done

to undo what has been done
to undo what has been done

this is a landsline
no survivors here

memory is the blood that I bleed myself in alone
to the light that's begun to undo what has been done

this is a landslide
no survivors here
this is a landslide
no survors here
this is a landslide

this is a landslide
no survivors here.

Labels: Music

Posted by Lux at 1:24 PM | Permalink | Comments

By now I had really hoped that I've had something worth talking about. In this fucking mess of a year something is going to have to pull through it.

I've been writing more and exploring some of my other nutty 'gifts.' I've also been writing a friend often.

I think I'll post some of the messages here for prosterity.

Posted by Lux at 2:45 PM | Permalink | Comments