Can't Get These In The States

Within 7 hours of landing in The Netherlands yesterday, I had found and purchased my entire Drifter wardrobe for the next 2 years:



Yes, that would be python print spandex.
And tights made out of animal print foil.
And tights covered entirely in black sequins.

The 80s are ALIVE! Be afraid, be very afraid.

Ordered Eastward

300 User Acceptance Scripts created in the last 5 days
3.5 hours sleep
Knowing that in 18 hours you'll be in Europe for the next 10 days = PRICELESS

I'm embarking on my first real vacation of length in three years. We are heading to Europe to see/hang with Hail of Bullets and Asphyx. After seeing them at MDF, I was consumed by the wild hare to chase them across the pond, so that's exactly what we did.

We're seeing Bullets in Antwerp, Belgium on Saturday October 24, spending a week in The Netherlands visiting war sites and museums, then on Halloween we head to Oslo for Raise The Dead Fest where we'll see Asphyx, Sodom and a bunch of other bands.

I think I've slept maybe 13 hours in the last 5 days, trying to get all my work tied up.

Half of my luggage is computer equipment so I can stay in touch with work while over there.

I haven't worked out in a month.

I have bags so big under my eyes I thought I might have to check them.

I'm freaking out that disaster will befall my project while I am gone.

But I'm going. And it's going to be fucking awesome, no matter what.

New Bracaglia Tracks plus Six String Madness!

Last weekend, I completed two new tracks for Bracaglia: Undertow and Faithless Warrior. Head on over to my Myspace or Bracaglia's to check them out.

I'm glad I stayed up late to finish, sweating in my closet-made-recording booth, because when I got up on Sunday morning, I felt like utter hell. It's been raining here in Texas for the last several weeks, so the mold is OUTTA control. Allergies so bad. Ah god if I could have dissected my neck without killing myself to scratch my eustachian tubes, I would have.

Depsite feeling like hell, it didn't stop me from annoying my Indian neighbors with my new toy: a black Schecter Omen 6 and my little Spider III Line 6 amp. The guitar might be plain and the amp only 15 watts, but I can still generate some serious noise. I've already spotted Ajith or whatever his name is peeking out the blinds at my office window while I've been sawing away.

The urge to pick up the axe again began growing about a year ago. MDF really got the burn going bad - mostly because all the bands I really enjoyed played very simple, yet effective, riffs. Watching them, I kept thinking: "I can do that. I can do that. I used to play Maiden and Scorps and even Dokken passably well - I can wang along on the E string like these guys are doing, sure!"

The crazy busy summer of Software Testing Hell, as June-August 09 will forever be known, got in the way of my plans. As soon as it was over, I headed to Guitar Center where I settled on the Omen. Ever since, for at least 40 mins a day, my Indian neighbors have been seranaded by the sounds of electric chaos pouring from my office.

Oh they've had it good - for the last 10 years we've been completely quiet neighbors except for the occasional evening when I'd decide I just had to sing some Heaven and Hell or attempt to give myself a stroke by getting my Halford on with some Painkiller or Resurrection.

So far so good. My chops, what few of them there were, are coming back. I really wasn't very good the first time around, so I'm trying to remedy that this time. Practice time involves some chord progressions, chromatic scale exercises, some dexterity stuff I got off teh Interwebz, and then reward time by playing some death metal songs. Tonight's major success was getting all the way through Pestilence's "Out of the Body" with a minimum of flubs (although fuck that hammer off thing in the middle, I can't do that yet!).

And here's "Out of the Body" played pretty much right - drummer is a little loose but he's not the band's real drummer - it's Pestilence with Martin on bass - what a classic!

Changing of the Guard

Last night was a bit surreal.

I was at Encore Records in Austin, attending Ignitor’s CD release party for their new album, “The Spider Queen.” It’s Stu’s brainchild, a concept album in the purest sense and his creation entirely, from story to music to lyrics. Jason told me about it last year while standing out in the parking lot of the Red Eyed Fly before a Sad Wings/Drifter gig. I was floored: I could see Stu coming up with a concept and music, but lyrics? I remember like yesterday an Ignitor practice where Stu spoke happily about how he was so glad I didn’t need any help with lyrics because he hated writing lyrics more than anything.

A day doesn’t go by when I don’t think about Ignitor. Sometimes I feel like I’ll never get anything original going again that stands a chance of playing live. The work I do with Bracaglia is not particularly meant for live consumption – I’m pulling off long screams in that stuff which I could never do live. One of reasons I picked up guitar again was to be able to write songs with the idea that a better player could take my ideas and dress them up. So… I’m trying; finding a new original project just not the easiest of things to when you’re me and probably too picky for your own good.

I’m proud of what Ignitor has done since I left. “The Spider Queen.” is very different from “Road of Bones” – it kind of has to be, given the change in vocals and the concept album nature. It took me about 4 listens to get into it when I got the promo a few months ago. The first listen – I really didn’t like it. Second listen, I found some things I could like but still was bothered by a few songs. Third listen – those bothersome songs revealed themselves to be really fucking catchy and I discovered myself humming the melodies at work. Fourth listen, I’d managed to divorce myself from what I wanted it to sound like (heavier, with more solos) and just accepted it for what it was.

I’ve gotten some messages from old fans who are upset by what the new music sounds like – all I can say is thanks for being fans, check out my new stuff with Bracaglia, but give Ignitor a second chance. Jason is an amazing vocalist and I don’t say that just because he is one of my closest friends – his performance on this album shows the range of his voice, the different styles he can do, and his endless creativity with attack and harmonies. The rest of the music is solid (Stu channels some hardcore Brian May, particularly in "Dynasty of Darkness") but Jason is really the crowning glory on “The Spider Queen.”

Watching them play on stage, I could feel eyes on me as I sang along. I'm sure a few folks were wondering how I felt watching my former band move on without me. I hope everyone realizes I am okay with it – I wish them all the best and I can tell they’re all a lot happier without Ms. Picky Micromanaging It’s Not Heavy Enough Bitch in the band. Seeing them happy made me happy - and that felt really good. It’s not often I have truly altruistic moments but Saturday night was one of them.

“The Spider Queen.” hits the streets Oct 13 and is already out in Europe and elsewhere. Go check it out, keep an open mind - I hope you like it!

Krav - Hard Decisions

So I’m sick and that sucks. Things at work have settled down a little, giving me time to focus on all the things I put off this summer because I was working so much. I spent last Wednesday cutting vocals for Tony on a new song called Faithless Warrior. It’s a simple song that starts quiet, building on harmonies and repetition to finish with a powerful climax. I spent a lot of time working on the harmonies and am excited to finish it – yet this annoying chest cold has thwarted my plans. I hate my bargain basement immune system.

Earlier this year (actually at the end of 08), I’d decided I wanted to 2009 to be a year of self-improvement. Bored of my at home work out schedule, I decided to take up Krav Maga. It looked fun and exciting; a way to switch things up and get energized.

I had high expectations of Krav. I wanted a brutal workout that would improve my flexibility, coordination, build muscle and burn fat. I wanted to get into the best shape of my life. I was worried about how I'd do with my various injuries. The instructors promised they would help me work around my limits. However, their sympathy dried up as quickly as the ink on my one year contract. After getting yelled at mulitple times for not rotating my left foot (arthritis in my big toe makes this excruciating) or picking my right leg up high enough (flexibility/weakness issue from the break), I started to dread the classes.

There was something sad and negative in the air at class. I smelled it the first time I walked into the building but ignored my instinctual reaction to leave. The owner had an evangelical gleam to his eye as he told me, more or less, about how Krav would change my life. He began prosletyzing about his wife’s nutrition program, about how she’d be able to tell me about all the poisons I was probably eating. My hackles were up but I really wanted to try, so I swallowed my reservations and signed up.

The ratio of men to women was about 4:1. That was a bit of a shock. Often there weren’t enough women to partner with so I’d get stuck a guy. Brutal. I just can’t keep up against someone who outweighs me by 100 lbs. Those classes felt endless and I would leave bruised, scratched, aching and discouraged. I’m sure my male partner felt similarly disappointed after having to pull kicks and punches all night.

I started to feel really down about going once several women told me during partnering exercises of what inspired them to take Krav: dangerous and abusive sig others. Not surprising of course, but still – there was a sense of desperation, of fear, not empowerment like the instructors liked to yell about. These weren’t happy ladies. They were fresh victims, smelling of torn fingernails, black eyes and crippling anxiety.

In the end, it wasn't what I wanted. I don’t enjoy group activities. I don’t enjoy having my skin torn and scratched. I don't enjoy rolling on the floor in other people's blood and sweat. I don’t enjoy being given the "you're a quitter" look when I won’t do something which causes me extreme pain. And I don’t enjoy being around hapless people who are taking Krav to defend themselves from their violent sig other that THEY’RE STILL WITH.

I’ve decided personal training is a better fit for me. No group situations. No sad sacks. No geeks who run away or flinch. Just some dude who’ll push me to my limits and help me sculpt my body in a way that doesn’t worsen my already existing injuries and pain.

I’m not quite ready to sign up for personal training yet but I will do it by the end of the year. We'll see how 2010 shapes up in regards to fitness and strength. I did okay in 2009, but 2010 needs to be THE YEAR.

Stay tuned for more blogs about my work with Bracaglia, thoughts on the new Ignitor, (you should check it out), good books I’ve read this year, and my new guitar!

Vindication

I get excited about weird things.

Today, I had my yearly echocardiogram. My doc likes to keep an eye on the ol' ticker, due to my heart murmur and occasional mitral valve regurgitation. Over the past three years, my heart and I have reached accord: it occasionally flips out, beats irregularly but it keeps beating. I, in turn, do not have panic attacks over it and go to the cardiologist regularly to make sure the accord continues.

One of the things that happens to me all the time are skipped beats. Some people feel them as palpitations. I have both palpitations and skipped beats; they feel distinctly different and happen under different circumstances. Palpitations to me feel like vibrations or flutterings. I get a choking sensation in my throat. They accompany extreme anxiety, like when I am speaking to a person by whom I am intimidated. Skipped beats tend to happen when I am at rest, particularly when trying to go to sleep. I feel a sudden weird electrical buzz in my chest, then a dreadful stillness, followed by a hard thump as my heart realizes it needs to keep beating. Usually, my ears ring very briefly before the resumption of normal rhythm. I cough like a person with congestive heart failure which it makes it stop and I feel better. I don't know if what I'm experiencing is a PVC (preventricular contraction) or PAC (preatrial contraction).

For years, I'd told doctors about this and the conversation has gone thusly:
Me: "My heart feels like it stops sometimes when I'm sitting quietly."
Doctor: "Okay. So you were nervous?"
Me: "No. I was [reading/relaxing/falling asleep]"
Doctor: "You were hyperventilating?"
Me: "No. I was breathing quietly. It's very disturbing."
Doctor: "Sounds like anxiety."
Me: "I get anxious AFTER it happens. Before I am perfectly calm."
Doctor: "Well these happen when you're anxious and hyperventilating. Next time pay attention and I'm sure you'll notice you were breathing hard or upset about something."
Me: "Right."

I'm glad each and every one of these doctors has never had this happen so they can tell me I'm anxious despite my clear description of a non-anxious state and then look at me like a hypochondriac when I press the issue. It's maddening.

My current cardiologist is a very nice man who gets it and only occasionally fails to listen to me. Still, it's hard to believe he really, truly understands the weirdness that happens in my chest because I never have symptoms when I visit him. Only the first time he saw me did I have overt cardiac issues: a pulse pounding so hard he stood across the room and saw my carotid arteries throbbing in my neck and an EKG showing stable but inverted T-waves. The profound panic attack I'd been having for the last 12 hours was to blame; thankfully it's never been that intense again.

Anyway, back to why I'm excited. Today, was echo day which meant I got to spend 30 mins in a nice, dimly lit room with someone smearing cold gel all over my bony chest while viewing onscreen the muscle that keeps me alive and bitching.

And today my heart stopped during the echo and we caught it on the recording.

The technician was viewing a full cross section. I could see all 4 chambers of my heart as in a textbook, little valves flapping, blood going in and out. I was very calm and peaceful. Suddenly, I felt the slight electrical zing that preceeds the PAC or PVC and had enough time to think, "OhIhopeIseeit!" My heart did this pathetic half-squeeze and then relaxed, a deflating balloon, ventricles and atria expanding largly. Maybe 0.5 seconds passed as I felt the deadly stillness, heard my death-herald "squee" in my ears, and then LUMP, my heart contracted fully, not a huge SLAM like sometimes but a nice, solid LUMP then beat-beat-beat like nothing had happened.

"Finally!" I said to the tech. "Did you see that? A PVC! It finally happened during an echo."

"Yep," replied the tech. "Saw that."

I could have watched that 1 second loop a hundred times - there it was, finally, recorded, my vindication that I am NOT anxious, I am NOT hyperventilating - but instead lying down with a BPM of 48-50, blood pressure 102/65, totally calm, not caffeinated, not even thinking about Asphyx or Goatwhore or Hail of Bullets and WHAM, my fucking ticker gets confused, stops, and then resets itself. Just like it does about 100 times a day.

I want an MPEG of that to put on my iPhone so I can shove it in the face of the next doc I visit who disbelieves me. "Here! Look at this! Do you feel stupid now? Perhaps I should be the one wearing the coat here!" When I go for my review with my doctor, I'm going to ask if they can send me a file of it. Would love to post it for you all to see.

Like I said, I get excited about weird things. And I love nothing more than to feel vindicated against the often lazy, sometimes life-endangering medical community with whom we trust our health. Fuck you guys for making me feel like a crazy lady. My heart stops sometimes. I've got it on VIDEO.

Mountain Pictures!

Here are some pics from the hike. I didn't take more because I was worried the rain would damage the camera.


Norma was ready to go.


I look like I'm 12. I guess that's a good thing.


This looks flat but it was anything but!


The misty Tuckerman Bowl which eventually foiled us.


More Bowl.