Panos Dionysopoulos's Blog, page 2
January 4, 2015
Review: He Died With A Felafel In His Hand
He Died With A Felafel In His Hand by John Birmingham
This book espouses the dangers of vegetarianism and promotes healthy consumption of lamb.
Review: The Secret Diary of Adrian Mole, Aged 13 3/4
The Secret Diary of Adrian Mole, Aged 13 3/4 by Sue Townsend
What drives a man to kill? This question is explored through the blood lust of a pubescent boy who compulsively records his every successful (and unsuccessful) kill, whilst also presenting a lighthearted look at being a teenager and growing up.
Review: Christine
The Messiah returns to Earth in the form of a cocktail waitress and makes the regulars of the local diner compete for salvation via drag racing. Second place gets you pink slips and 50% off the big burger combo.
Review: What to Expect When You’re Expecting
What to Expect When You’re Expecting by Heidi Murkoff
A harrowing look at impending nuclear war. In a nutshell: boiling the water does nothing and you’ll probably die.
Review: High on Arrival
High on Arrival by Mackenzie Phillips
Master pilot “Jets” Mackenzie talks the average pilot through parking a 747 in an upper floor of a skyscraper during an emergency.
Review: The Wind in the Willows
The Wind in the Willows by Kenneth Grahame
After Judge Toad is gunned down on the steps of his courthouse, a vigilante known only as “The Mole” sets out to infiltrate the criminal gang who put him down and get vengeance, along with a better prescription for his glasses.
Review: Frankenstein
Everything you wanted to know about obscenely large frankfurters but were afraid to ask. All explained by the tense, yet kind, naked man on the cover.
December 27, 2014
You wake up
Hello my most excellent readers. This is another entry where I’m genuinely forcing myself to write so please excuse inconsistencies, rambling, bad jokes and leaping from subject to subject. in other words, expect the usual.
Right now I’m waiting till my friend gets home so I can go over and jam with him on some music we’re working on. I mostly play drums in this endeavour though I give a lot of feedback on the mix and the shaping of the songs. Five years ago I attempted NaNoWriMo and actually finished a novel and then the entire track of my creative life changed. When that book was done, I realised I got a lot more satisfaction out of writing than I ever did out of writing music. This was huge for me because I have literally spent over half of my life writing music, since high school. Actually, it’s 20 years now. I completely devoted myself to it too, spurning various jobs and different opportunities so I could hone my ‘art’ and work at my various projects.
For almost all of my time in bands I’ve been a guitarist and occasionally front man. I never really bothered to learn how to solo because I came from the Nirvana school of song writing – i.e. emotion is everything. In the last few years I bought a cheap electric drum kit which I upgraded to pro level and somehow ended up drumming. This gives me a lot of satisfaction but still not as much as seeing my words turn into stories.
I think this stems from my childhood, when I was writing stories and reading all the time. Pretty much all my time I wasn’t spending on my computer I was spending reading a book or trying to write something. In all my bands afterwards I’d be endlessly crafting lyrics and trying different styles and forms. In the last band I was in as singer/songwriter one of the songs even turned out to be beat poetry because I couldn’t find any other way to make it fit. When I look back at it now, it’s basically a free form (very) short story. Here it is in its entirety:
You wake up; everything is flammable; everyone is f***able; the room is on fire; you meet a responsible adult who tells you the world will end ten minutes after sundown
You agree to meet him after then
You wake up; you catch up with your friend; you tell him you set fire to the sky and the cleansing begins from within; he tells you you’re a dog of a party
And the sun dissolves away to nothingness
And for your entertainment, here is a video of us performing said song. This was about ten years ago. Please excuse the angst.
Just so you know, the lyrics came to me fully formed in a dream. I woke up, elbowed my partner awake, and had her transcribe it before I forgot it. I look at it now and I see a short narrative piece written in the second person rather than a set of lyrics. Of course, it’s both. For some reason it never occurred to me that while I was working on music I was also working on my writing. With everything I write I pay special attention to the rhythm of the words I’m putting down, how it all sounds together and whether my beats hit hard and make sense. I make sure most scenes have a ‘chorus’ where the action comes together and a resting pace that sets the tone for the novel.
Most importantly I have a part where the main character screams at the injustice of it all. Because, you know, that’s character building. Also it’s a subtle nod to my teenage and early adult war against a world that could never know my pain. The pain of being young, knowing everything, and not being appreciated for it. In a way “I Think You Ate My Sandwich” was my award to myself for “best angst”, though Tink in that book took things way better than I would have, especially since she didn’t have a guitar or a drum kit to take it all out on.
Speaking of which, I really need to finish working on my Minkah novel so I can put out revision two of that one. I still love Robert the Robert. Till next time…
