Manson

All ye of the Christian Right persuasion, you oughta leave now, cuz I'ma be jerking over the Antichrist Superstar himself for a while here.  So unless you wanna catch some 21-year-old fanatical spunk in your eye, I suggest you backdafuqup.  If you aren't one of these silly conservative types that hates those doo-wopping rapscallions and their "rock and roll" doodads where they move their hips and buy each other malts... well, you'll probably still get spermed on, but I'll try a bit harder not to.

Well, now that I've alienated about half of you by talking about sperm, let's begin.

Uh, the whales?  Obviously?

Though I didn't really get into Marilyn Manson until freshman year(ish), I was never part of the other camp, people who took the two things they knew about Manson (plays some kind of heavy music with a lot of swears that no one's actually tried to listen to, and... I don't know, wears makeup?) plus the things they think they know about Manson ("Eewwwwww he's creeeepyyyyyy!"  Your mom's creepy.  "Hurr he got a rib removed."  No, that's not a thing that happened.  "They're the guys that started that riot, right?"  No, that was Limp Bizkit.  "URRRRR He's responsible for Columbine!" eye twitch) to equal: a frightening and unnecessary hatred normally reserved for Osama Bin Laden and exercise.

We'll find a way to get you too, Exercise.  Just you wait.  Smug bastard.

Somewhere down the line I Limewired (yeah, remember that?) a random sampling of his songs on a whim.  I'd heard people speak fearfully of his music, describing it as "crazy death metal" and other surprisingly-stupider epithets.

Yeah.  I've heard numerous people call THIS GUY "death metal".

Teenage-me, even when I barely knew what "death metal" was, figured that had to be stupid on some level or another.  Yeah, whatever, call it teenage arrogance, but it's not hard to tell when someone (or many a someone) has an uninformed opinion.  So I netted a random bunch of songs, mostly singles, and listened to 'em.  I liked the FUCK out of them.  Somewhere in the next sometime (this ain't no history lesson), I went down to my local FYE (sigh... auf wiedersehen, old friend) and, on kind of a whim, bought two of his albums: Eat Me Drink Me (cuz I liked "Heart-Shaped Glasses") and Antichrist Superstar (cuz I liked "The Beautiful People").

The rest of my day after I got home went something like this:

Shut myself in attic (my hangout)

Popped in Antichrist Superstar (came out first, so hey, why not?)

Listened

Did little else

Was like "WTF?"

Stared at jewel case for a minute

Listened again

Fucking "got it, man"

I mean no, I didn't, because Manson fills his lyrics with so much imagery and symbols and crazy artistic shit that I don't think I could wrap my head all the way around it without the assistance of psychotropics, but I "got it" enough.

Mr. Marilyn knows how to write a freaking song, to be sure.  But his strength lies in the albums as full-on sit-and-ponder hour-or-so-long experiences.

Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaannnndd Blogger's having a shit-fit and suddenly can't post images.  Sucks, cuz I was about to put something funny.  Now you'll just have to imagine it.

The themes, the way the songs flow into one another, the hidden (and not-so-hidden) narrative, how they end and begin... there's something really special there, something that never fails to captivate me and put me in some mystic, if unsettled, place.

Point is, even if it may not show up in my songwriting (not like there's anywhere to hear my songs... or like I have songs recorded), Marilyn Manson's music is what pushed me into wanting to knuckle down and get serious about it.  Not like "I think I'm gonna be a rock star" serious, but serious like I want to actually be good at it, I want to write a ballston of songs, I wanna have bands, I wanna know bands, play shows, spit beer on my fans, bring down das houses, have people hear my shit, and ya know what?  Maybe even inspire someone like Manson inspired me.  Fuck I gotta go record.

Hole in the Earth

Some more prose for y'all!  Now, I realize yes, I'm just posting this because the title of this short story comes from a song by a 90's band.  That's right: motherfucking Deftones.  'Course, the song itself didn't even come out in the 90's.  Also the story has little > x < nothing to do with the lyrics, or even a literal interpretation of the title.  So far, I've presented absolutely no evidence that I didn't just poop out this story and slap a kind-of-90's thing on to name it.  I came up with the story, or its barest of bones anyway, while walking my dog and listening to this song.  The song helped establish the mood, and Chino's vocals make the song sound kinda darkly romantic, so that kinda helped get
OH JUST READ THE GODDAMN STORY

Hole in the Earth

            Boy is older than girl.  Girl is younger than boy.

            Girl is lonely.  Boy is lonely.  Girl tries to fix it.  Girl doesn’t succeed.  Boy has dog.  Boy does not have father.  Boy’s mother is lonely.  Boy’s mother drinks.

            Boy always walks dog.  Boy often sees girl.  Boy and girl never talk.  Girl always plays hide-and-go-seek with “friends”.  Girl’s always It.  Girl doesn’t like always being It.  One day, boy says to girl, “In the bushes.”  Girl’s “friends” are in the bushes.

            Boy is older.  Girl is older.  Boy has same dog.  Boy’s dog is dying.  Boy still walks dog.  Boy will join the marines once the dog dies.

            Boy often sees girl.  Girl is often with boyfriend.  Girl loves boyfriend.  Boy always sees girl in same spot, a bench by the library, with boyfriend or no.  Boy sees boyfriend in two different spots.  Boy sometimes sees boyfriend in coffee shop with different girl.  One day, boy says to girl, “Coffee shop.”  Boyfriend is in the coffee shop.

            Boy comes home.  Boy becomes police officer, detective.  Girl leaves home.  Girl chooses friends poorly.  Boy has no friends.

            Boy’s dog has died.  Boy has new dog.  Boy takes dog out to apartment stoop to smoke.  Boy smokes, not dog.  Girl smokes too.  And drinks.  And shoots.  And snorts.

            Girl always passes boy on his stoop.  Girl always comes to visit “friends”.  Girl’s “friends” move around.

            One day, girl passes boy on his stoop.  Girl is not well.  Girl has insects beneath her skin.  Girl can’t stay clean.  Girl needs to find “friends”.  Boy says to girl, “1107.”  Girl’s “friends” are not in 1107.  Girl can’t search all apartments.  Girl’s “friends” get busted.  Girl does not.

            Boy’s colleagues are dirty.  Girl’s “friends” get away.  Girl disappears.

            Boy finds girl.  Girl’s at “friend’s” house.  Girl’s on couch.  Girl’s scared.  Girl whispers to boy, “Closet.”  Boy turns to closet.  Boy moves, shot misses.  Boy’s shot doesn’t.  Boy and girl leave.

            Boy always takes dog out to stoop to smoke.  Boy smokes, not dog.  Boy never sees anyone.  Boy got no press.  Boy thinks about moving.

            One day, boy sees girl.  Girl doesn’t walk past to see “friends”.  Girl no longer has “friends”.  Girl stops in front of boy.  Boy is smoking.  Dog is wagging.  Girl says to boy, “Hi.”  Boy is never lonely again.  Neither is girl.

Oh, don't like love stories?  Well TOO BAD AND GET OVER IT.

Twatbucket.