So, I want to apologize for going dark this last week. I was forced to miss all the things I wanted to do over the Fourth of July weekend and the weekend prior - and I definitely want to apologize to the people I said I'd support and then wasn't able to.
First, I missed the Saints of Ruin release party back on 6/23 because I was leaving town for the weekend and needed to get packed. I hope those that made it enjoyed it. Anyone heard the new album? If so, tell me if you like it. I'm willing to pick it up if it's got some supporters out there.
Over the holiday weekend, I was hoping to go to the newly reborn Splinter on Thursday, go to Strangelove's Military Fashion Show on Friday, then go to the belly dance performance by the Standfire Collective on Saturday, and wrap up my weekend by heading out to Sacramento for Asylum on Sunday (since I was off work on Monday and wouldn't have to get up and be functional the next day).
It was going to be an awesome weekend of Gothic overindulgence and high fuel and bridge-toll expense - and I was totally fucking game.
And then a family emergency reared its head and destroyed the whole weekend. And since I had to now head down to Southern California, it was all of the expense and none of the fun (and three times the fucking heat, thank-you-very-much).
And, while the emergency itself resolved fine (thankfully), it also came with further and long-term bad news on the same front.
So, now, I want to punch Fate in the face. Also: cancer and heart problems. Fuck cancer and heart problems in their stupid ears with gigantic, flaming, spiked-and-barbed cocks.
I'm getting a little fucking tired of people I love dying all around me. This isn't the transhumanist, post-scarcity, 200-year-life-span future I was promised in my youth. Why haven't we cured the fucking plagues of the 20th Century yet even though we're in the 21st Century? Where are the god-damned hypo-sprays that just make this shit go away?
Why does making rich old people's dicks hard get priority over a baby's heart imploding on itself or bodies fucking cannibalizing themselves in some form of fucked up body-horror insanity?
I do want to thank my family (close and extended) for making this last weekend at least vaguely tolerable. You guys always surprise me with how well you roll with the punches and adapt and pull together.
So, at the risk of coming across sappy,thank you all for being so fucking awesome when the chips are down and the whole damn world is falling apart.
Even though most of you will probably never get around to reading my blog. :)
All that said, I'm hoping to make it out to the Cell's Dark Salon tonight at the Vagabond in Oakland (anyone care to join me?) to see some awesome dance performances and listen to some excellent music.
And maybe some liquor. Liquor would be perfect.
-- Mr. M.
First, I missed the Saints of Ruin release party back on 6/23 because I was leaving town for the weekend and needed to get packed. I hope those that made it enjoyed it. Anyone heard the new album? If so, tell me if you like it. I'm willing to pick it up if it's got some supporters out there.
Over the holiday weekend, I was hoping to go to the newly reborn Splinter on Thursday, go to Strangelove's Military Fashion Show on Friday, then go to the belly dance performance by the Standfire Collective on Saturday, and wrap up my weekend by heading out to Sacramento for Asylum on Sunday (since I was off work on Monday and wouldn't have to get up and be functional the next day).
It was going to be an awesome weekend of Gothic overindulgence and high fuel and bridge-toll expense - and I was totally fucking game.
And then a family emergency reared its head and destroyed the whole weekend. And since I had to now head down to Southern California, it was all of the expense and none of the fun (and three times the fucking heat, thank-you-very-much).
And, while the emergency itself resolved fine (thankfully), it also came with further and long-term bad news on the same front.
So, now, I want to punch Fate in the face. Also: cancer and heart problems. Fuck cancer and heart problems in their stupid ears with gigantic, flaming, spiked-and-barbed cocks.
I'm getting a little fucking tired of people I love dying all around me. This isn't the transhumanist, post-scarcity, 200-year-life-span future I was promised in my youth. Why haven't we cured the fucking plagues of the 20th Century yet even though we're in the 21st Century? Where are the god-damned hypo-sprays that just make this shit go away?
Why does making rich old people's dicks hard get priority over a baby's heart imploding on itself or bodies fucking cannibalizing themselves in some form of fucked up body-horror insanity?
I do want to thank my family (close and extended) for making this last weekend at least vaguely tolerable. You guys always surprise me with how well you roll with the punches and adapt and pull together.
So, at the risk of coming across sappy,thank you all for being so fucking awesome when the chips are down and the whole damn world is falling apart.
Even though most of you will probably never get around to reading my blog. :)
All that said, I'm hoping to make it out to the Cell's Dark Salon tonight at the Vagabond in Oakland (anyone care to join me?) to see some awesome dance performances and listen to some excellent music.
And maybe some liquor. Liquor would be perfect.
-- Mr. M.
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