Change

"Now is the winter of our discount tent."
- Shakespeare, sort of
It's not been a good month for writing. I've been staring at this stupid blog editor three times a week now for all of February and leaving it blank every single time. I just don't have a lot to say, and it doesn't seem like the words are coming out right when I do. Just a few days ago, I finally nailed down a set piece in ALTERED that took me three tries to get right—not just little edits or dialogue changes, but three different scenes from scratch. Astin and Kylie started at a chapel-turned-homeless-shelter at night and ended up in a skate park during the day. (I'm as surprised as anyone.) To emphasize the point, this post was originally titled "Fame," and it was meant to be an essay on Twitter knocking down the pedestals we force artists onto. I abandoned ship on that idea exactly half a paragraph in. My attention span these days isn't all that great.

Case in point: here's a random subject change. Bear with me, I swear this'll all come together.

A lot of what I write is inspired by dreams. Winter is when nature falls asleep, and it probably dreams, too. I can't imagine the nightmare it's having right now. With the political changes in the US, the temperature going ballistic, and arctic ice rapidly disappearing, it really does feel like the whole world is falling apart. The logical part of me says that these cycles happen, that there have always been self-important dictators and planetary crises, and this one will rise and fall like all the others. We don't have an unlimited amount of tries, though. We have to act, even if we think our contributions are insignificant. One voice is hard to hear, but there's no mistaking a choir.

Eventually, winter ends. Seasons change. You'd think I'd follow up with something sappy about spring, but no. Things change. That's it. Adapt or risk being left behind.



Featured Music
Cult of Fake
(Angelspit)I'm kind of surprised it took me this long to feature Angelspit. A few years ago, I stumbled across Krankhaus on Pandora and was blown away by both the sound and the aesthetics. The brainchild of Zoog Von Rock (Karl Learmont) and Amelia Arsenic (Amelia Tan), Angelspit uses hard industrial sound and chanted, dystopian lyrics to create a distorted mirror of modern society. Beneath the trappings, though, lies constant and biting satire. The band's albums seek to wake you up by slugging you in the face. It's not subtle, but it works.

Cult of Fake is their latest. It's good from start to finish, but "New Devil" is particularly noteworthy for Zoog's punchy political monologues. If you're new to Angespit, you may want to ease into things with "Defibrillator," a catchy tune about meat grinder Playboy society sung by Arsenic in a peppy, vapid voice. After that, go ahead and mainline the video for Vena Cava for an introduction to the Krankhaus Society and Angelspit's aesthetic. Once you're properly acclimated, click the album above. Purchase both it and some really nifty stuff like the USB Spit Pill, and enjoy your ride to hell!