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Tuesday, April 8, 2014

The Transparent Eye -- NaPoWriMo Poem #4

[Note: Originally written 4/5/2014. The first of my Buddhist-themed poems.]

The Ideal suspended before us like the apple of Tantalus,
unreachable: we reach, and it recedes into the distance or fades away,
or worse, lead on corrupted minds ever deeper into burning hells,
collecting hellfire to cast onto earth: sweetest daughter of Māra,
weaving her veil of illusion to distract from the cries of a suffering world.

Close your eyes: quiet the mind: observe the commotion fade to silence:
become a transparent eye penetrating the veil to the true reality of things:
dissolve the confusion that clouds vision and distorts consciousness:
perceive the connections among all things from beginning to end of time:
rediscover that what is real and that what is not is not.

Go, bodhisattva, return to the suffering world with clear vision and pure heart:
countless living beings cry for relief from incessant suffering: reconnect:
leave behind the lesser self, distortion of self, moulted like snake's skin:
your self is not the outer shell or inner layers but the center:
as you walk further down the path, show them where it begins:

 but they must choose to walk it
 for some are blinded by shining ideals
 and others by midnight-black despair
 confusion clouds their eyes and makes them think
 that what is not real is real
 and what is real is not real:

clarity reveals the path, and the cosmic currents
that flow through you and me and all beings and all reality,
and the true nature of reality unclouded by faulty vision
and by the three afflictions, addiction repulsion confusion,
and by the lesser self that divides self from self and self from others.

 Siddhārtha meditated under a pipal tree
 when Māra spied him and panicked:
 first he unleashed all the terrors of infinite hells:
 failing that, he tried to seduce the prince
 with carnal pleasures and illusory ideals:

 Siddhārtha endured,
  achieved extinction,
   and woke up a Buddha.


Copyright © 2014 Dennis Jernberg. Some rights reserved.
Creative Commons License

Crucify Yourself (Punk Blues in Spanner Time) -- NaPoWriMo Poem #3

[Note: Written 4/4/2014. A possible replacement Interlude 2 for Chaos Angel Spanner, featuring several major Spanner characters, motifs, and themes.]

Poe’s Law
(as in Edgar Allan’s preacher cousin):
The Church must put on the World’s culture
like unto a garment:
then it can take over.

Once upon a time, in a city by the sea,
before it caught the sheen and glitter of celebrity,
a dervish-capped man began a church amidst apostasy,
and gathered up his flock, and lo! it grew ambitiously,
and as his congregation grew, his power grew by degrees,
until the Lord commanded: bring this Babylon to its knees!

The city was called Seattle,
the man was Pastor Scofield,
Byron Herbert Scofield,
a man of same mind as Chuck Norris:
he looked like a football star
with a top hat upon his head
but wanted to be a Rock Star
and preaching the Lord was his way:
but the ring of ultimate power
lay on the road of Kurt Cobain.

  Celebrity secret to fame and fortune
   Crucify yourself
  Suicide will make you immortal
   Crucify yourself

 Willa Richter-Thomas,
 Rocker and psychologist,
 came up with a theory
 and put it into doggerel:

   This preacher steals our Rock ’N’ Roll
    and uses it to rule,
   then strips it of its integrity
    and calls it RadiCool.

He brought his intensities into ten more cities and nationwide,
parlaying his charisma into bigger more hysterical flocks and pastoral stardom;
but to him they were just a power base: higher ambitions fuelled his burning ego;
television’s siren song called out his name, drew him into its studio
where with his old friend Bram Savage he red- and pinkbaited uppity womankind
and their old enemy Willa, and built mighty fortresses in the sky
manned with manly crusaders against democracy, the devil’s daughter
and rapist of virgin manliness: communism was dead, they said,
we the people was passé and uncool: only fascism had edge and cool,
government by superhero, manly celebrity like Pastor Byron, the Lord’s linebacker.

  He got his biggest ratings.
  He was a fast rising star.
  Next step to power: Fox News.
  The devil looked up with a smirk.

 And Willa went on with her theory
 in defiance of his denial:

   Patriarchs so desperate
    to capture all the youth
   Mix their jargon in dead slang
    and brand it RadiCool.

Speculation abounds as to the time he sold his soul,
Sacrificing integrity for his ambitious goal:
Taking command of city towers and hostile city streets,
Liberal wimpy millions begging sobbing at his feet:
 seize his dominion
 take his revenge

Conservative celebrity compounded on itself and turned his head
He concocted the most audacious hostile takeover since the March on Rome
Bloodless castrated unmen and mere women populated the Babylon he sought to rule
They would fall and be conquered by the magic manly essence of God’s linebacker
 By God’s sign he would conquer
 Lo! this Babylon would fall

But ambition made him overconfident, unearned pride made him ripe for a fall
The city people feared he’d make them all illegal aliens in their own city
Fame fortune fear and fanatical hordes provoked the spirit of resistance
Mainstream media propaganda blitz couldn’t save him from humiliating defeat
 and the Great White Father
 was about to become Black

 And Willa’s theory continued as
 he closed his ears to reason:

   They won’t let you escape their Word
    at work or play or school;
   They’ll rape your mind and kill your soul
    à mode de RadiCool.

In the depths of his darkest despair
he sat in his executive chair
and telephoned Doctor Julian Blair
whose mad science controlled the mind
with a hubris that would make him blind
for he would turn Benedict Arnold
 and they would make his name taboo
 and they would call him Doctor X
and the mad doctor gave him this advice:

 A Western movie cowboy
  said these words so wise:
 Before you live forever,
  first you’ve got to die.

  The martyr way to absolute power
   Crucify yourself
  You gotta die to become immortal
   Crucify yourself

He sentenced himself to death,
he nailed himself to the cross,
he punctured himself in the side
with spear held in his own hands
and applied the final fatal sponge
and drank death deep to the bitter end:

his grief-maddened followers
believed he would rise bodily

 but he appeared unto them
 in mass hallucination:
 they were now his body,
 their faith his resurrection,
 their life his transmutation:
 like evil Osama bin Laden,
 he was now a god.

The Conservative Revolution
went to its full conclusion
a black man vanished from the earth
again dread giants walked the earth:
the Spirit of Rock ’N’ Roll was now his:
he rocked the Word of Command:
 Patriot Metal!

 And all the Rockers sang along
 as Willa summoned her Charmer niece:

   We the people must take back
    our culture from his rule,
   even if our freedom requires
    the sacrifice of the Cool.

Poe’s Law
(as in Nathan from Usenet):
The more fanatically you believe,
the less your belief can be distinguished
from parody.

She had slain the slender man
She could kill the mind of faith
A girl with skin of cinnamon
And outlaw style and hardened mind
And superpower to cloud the mind
And dark charisma rousing lust
 too sexy for her age
 and she had many names
Shira Thomas she said she was
But he kept calling her Rebel Styles
 the evil child seductress
  who slew the men of faith
 his suicide assault was fuelled
  by dread and holy hate
She stole from him the power of Rock
She terrified away his flock
He faced his nemesis alone
Inside a body not his own
 abandoned by God:
She put an end to his Word of Command
  his top hat fell
  his mind flickered out
  his name was forgot
 the devil got his man
 and that was the end.


Copyright © 2014 Dennis Jernberg. Some rights reserved.
Creative Commons License

Monday, April 7, 2014

The Twilight of the New Gods -- NaPoWriMo Poem #2

[Note: Originally written 4/2/2014.]

America the Midas kingdom turning everything it touches into gold
Acquired collected competed-over turning base men into gods
Turning against the people, building impregnable castles in the sky
Thundering over and over at all times the word from on high: obey
Turning on each other for all gods are jealous and there can only be one

 The will of the gods
 Is written on stone
 The name of the poet
 Is carved into water

The new generation of gods, overthrowing the previous one,
Throwing them off Olympus, casting them into the abyss,
 erasing their names:
Carving their own names into palimpsest temple walls
Carving their commandments with lightning into the air
Carving their emblems out of nightmare into the human mind
 demanding sacrifice:

 You will be organized
 Your soul converted to money
 All resistance is futile
  They call you by a number
  And take away your name

Another heaven destroyed, a new one raised against the chaos of earth
Old hierarchy destroyed, a new one built to tame traitor humankind with faith
Everything good confiscated by heaven to turn earth once again into hell

 New aliens invade
 To conquer and subdue
 The humans they once were
 And make the world their zoo

High above them, looking down, standing taller than the sky
The new Titan generation bearing corporate conglomerate names
Emanating terror commandment police from eyes brighter than the sun
Speaking the word of the profits: buy sell acquire steal nyah
Too much can never be enough, stab your neighbour in the back
Make their life nasty brutish and short, for all must war against all
For the magic the power and the ecstasy of gold

 Hark! commotion below—
 Lo! rebellion, it grows—
 Behold! the threat from below!

Alone one human cannot stand against the pettiest god;
Together as one they can stand against pantheons and storm heaven!

 “The black-headed ones' voices have become deafening.”
 “Let us unleash the flood and drown them with water!”
 “Let us unleash the sun and burn them with fire!”
 “Let us unleash the whirlwind and blast them with air!”
 “Let us unleash the earthquake and bury them in earth!”
 “So mote it be.”

The new gods build giant new bodies out of swarms of angry machines
They dig their snouts deep and eat the earth from deep within
They organize their cults into crusader armies screaming to wreak jihad
Their will: to destroy the mind of man, initiate him back into the earth
 Their word: seek and destroy—

 By terror and power they overdo
 But we are many and they are few

 The gods are bodied in flesh and steel
 The people pull together for survival
 The final battle is on!

Believe in a god and he will assimilate
Fight him alone and he will annihilate
 Withdraw your sanction, end his game
 Erase the memory of his name
  The system is not for human use
  The system was made for gods by gods

 “Why is the river of heaven going dry?”
 “It can't be! Our blood is the real, matter but a flickering shadow.”
 “Look down, you fools! The black-headed ones have ceased to believe!”

The masses below vow to produce for their need not the profits of gods
The gods enraged send angels and demons of vengeance to ravage the earth
The word of chaos is implanted into the heavenly horde, they crash inert
Nations, corporations, tyrants, tycoons, all titans fall to mass deicide
The names of the last generation of gods,
 like those of all generations of gods come before,
  dissolve into nothing:

 Empire is no more:
  and now the dragons' reign
   has ceased!

Humanity their own master at last, they start to rebuild:
Life blooms again, restored to the wasteland of the real:
 and life goes on.


Copyright © 2014 Dennis Jernberg. Some rights reserved.
Creative Commons License

Tuesday, April 1, 2014

Dead Rocker Song -- NaPoWriMo Poem #1

He was a legend to himself, obscure to everyone else,
all ambition, no talent, and twenty-seven.
Membership in the Twenty-Seven Club was still open.
Nobody cared about him. He'd show them all.

You saw him on stage. You booed him from the audience.
There he was, guitar and voice out of tune,
imaginary target on his face as you cocked back your arm
and let loose the rotten tomato that hovered
and arced a pretty parabola on its way to his face.
Impact: face reddened by tomato and rage,
he stage-dived into the seething audience
and hit only floor. It was three months
before they let him out of the hospital.

Now he was twenty-seven. Club membership was open.
High on dexedrine and oxycodone,
more alcohol than blood in his veins,
he slipped behind the wheel to speed like a freak
to Dead Man's Curve with bomb in his trunk
and camera behind to watch him die live on YouTube.
He slammed foot to pedal, the car lurched and jerked,
he sped down the highway wobbling and weaving,
an army of cops in hot pursuit of a mad suicide
to the place of a million car crashes to crash and burn.
Impact: the exploding car sent shrapnel into cop
and bystander, made a pretty sight on live video.
Ten million viewers were amused. What a way to go.

Only three people came to his funeral,
mother and sister and widow catfighting over
the insurance policy they took out on him
and cashed in knowing how he wanted to go.
He was lowered in the ground under a generic tombstone.
A priest said pretty words that did not apply,
heaven and eternal life and the resurrection and all that,
denying that everything left of him was
the formaldehyded and formally dressed corpse
destined to decay into dirt and fade from memory.
Impact: he achieved his Twenty-Seven Club ambition but
everybody knew him as a short story far back in the paper,
yesterday's birdcage liner, recycled tomorrow.
Membership in the Rock Hall of Fame forever closed,
he ended as he began, a footnote to a footnote,
and nobody cared.

Copyright © 2014 Dennis Jernberg. Some rights reserved.
Creative Commons License

Monday, March 31, 2014

NaPoWriMo 2014: Now That Script Frenzy's Dead... Poems!

Two years ago, NaNoWriMo discontinued their April scriptwriting spinoff Script Frenzy and replaced it with an April CampNaNo. As I'm not writing another new novel until next NaNo in November or I finish editing Chaos Angel Spanner book 1, whichever comes first, I've decided to do the next best thing until it became the best thing: NaPoWriMo, National Poetry Writing Month. Basically, you write a poem a day for 30 days, or just 30 poems this month. Considering my typical FAWM song output (28 songs this year, 14 of them in just the last two days), that should be easy. And my NaPoWriMo will be happening right here in this blog! Brace yourselves!

Wednesday, February 5, 2014

February Album Writing Month 2014 Now in Progress: or, 14 in '14!

Actually, I should have posted this on January 31. Well, it's FAWM again, and I'm going to write at least another 14 songs. Unlike the last 2 FAWMs, I'm going to record as many as I can, like I did during my first 2 (2009 and 2010), when I wasn't possessed by a monomania for editing three drafts of Chaos Angel Spanner nonstop. And unlike the past 2 years, I didn't wait until the last day or two to start posting songs. So far I have the lyrics posted for:
  1. Too Close
  2. Electric Boy (a song that's been haunting me for at least 2 years)
In addition to those, at this writing I'm also working on the music to these songs:
  • Bet He's Dead (another song on my inner playlist, originally "Eddie's Dead" then "Freddy's Dead" until I realized those names would be troublesome)
  • It's All Wrong (a song I originally planned for last FAWM)
  • Pure (new for 2014)
  • Tails You Lose, Heads I Win (also new)
I also have these songs planned:
  • Mokey Done Been Smoked (the sequel to 2009's "Smoke the Mokey", the original "mokey rock song, a genre that grew out of a type on FAWM's "add a song" form page)
  • Dream Becomes Real (a straight synthpop song; I need to do at least one, after all)
  • Soundtrack to an Imaginary Film (a dreamy instrumental)
  • False Flag (a song I originally planned for 50/90 2012)
  • Final Burn (new)
  • Pretty Kill in Glorious HD (new)
Whenever I get a full recording posted, I'll post it here on the main blog. I'm also seriously thinking of signing up for Soundcloud so my demos will be accessible to all, especially now that its embedded music player now works with the FAWM site.

So I've started at last. For the next month, or at least until NaNoEdMo comes around in March, I'll be agonizing over songs instead of Spanner rewrites...

Thursday, January 2, 2014

Good Riddance 2013, Hello 2014; or, Resolution Time Again

I didn't post here most of last year, not even songs for FAWM (because I never recorded any). Reason is, I spent most of my time on the epic final edit of Spanner. And this is supposed to be my main blog.

2014 will be different. Naturally, I have my resolutions. The obvious ones:
  1. Finish the final edit of Spanner Book 1.
  2. Practice my singing and my instruments for FAWM, not just this year's but next year's too.
  3. Pick a non-Spanner NaNoWriMo novel to edit and get published.
The ones I've been seriously procrastinating regardless of year:
  1. Start drawing again so I can finally learn how to draw comics;
  2. Start taking photographs again (conveniently, digital cameras better than mine are cheaper than ever);
  3. Keep at my workout program (just resuming it's not enough);
  4. Improve my French, German, and Japanese;
  5. Learn Python, Perl, and even C;
  6. Clean house (and stop using the epic Spanner edit to avoid it); and
  7. Resume regular posting to what's supposed to be my main blog, starting now.
2013 was a tough year: my mother's long recovery from surgery, the death of a cousin who was almost a brother to me when we were kids, the birth of my nephew and my brother's near-withdrawal from the family, my unhealthy obsession with a certain epic edit that even nearly ruined my health and prevented my 8th consecutive NaNo win (which I pulled off despite myself). 2014, on the other hand, will be the year I become a published professional author at last. I'll get back to posting about novels, comics, TV series, and the like as well. And of course I'll post drawings.

I've had my drink to the new year. The next step is to plunge into it. Here goes...

Friday, June 28, 2013

I Return From Isolation, In Time for Social Media Anniversaries

I've been procrastinating editing a lot lately, which kept me offline for about a week or two. Finally I said, "Aw, screw it," and got back on Google+ and Twitter just in time to find out that G+ is two years old today and in two days I'll have been on it for two years, and that I've been on Twitter four years as of yesterday. Significantly, G+ no longer slows down my computer to a crawl and TweetDeck's working for the first time in a month. Synchronicity or just serendipity?

Meanwhile Twitter recently killed off Posterous, exactly as I feared (and cynically predicted) when Posterous sold out, so over the coming month I'll be reposting entries from my now dead Posterous blog here and on the project blog. And I'll start blogging about books and music again, and I'll post photographs and drawings.

The important thing is, I'm back. And I'm relieved.

Sunday, March 31, 2013

Relevant Random Facts: The Goddess of Easter Isn't the One You Think

It was a close call. Too bad it didn't fall on April Fool's Day, or I'd have much more fun with it. One of these days I'll get my wish. But first, the relevant random trivia.

I've been hearing that "Easter" is supposed to be a variant of "Ishtar" (the goddess), whose holy day is the spring equinox. But then other facts intrude from the depths of my brain, and I realize I can't agree. For one thing, the holiday's name in German is "Oster", related to the word for east. But there's another goddess, an ancient Indo-European one, whose day also falls on the spring equinox, namely the dawn goddess: Aurora in Latin, Eos in Greek — and Easter in English (Ostara in medieval German).

Argue my point all you want, this is what I learned.

Saturday, December 22, 2012

The Non-End of the World, New Age Edition; or, Happy 14th B'ak'tun!

Once again, the world was supposed to end at a precise date and time. There were even disaster movies about it, including one big one. That time was the moment of the summer solstice (3:11 a.m. PST) on December 21, 2012. 12/21/12.

Sure enough, the world didn't end. Yet again.

That moment is when the 13th b'ak'tun of the Mayan calendar came to a close and the 14th began. A b'ak'tun is something of a Mayan counterpart to a millennium on the modern Roman calendar. If you remember, the world was also supposed to end at midnight on January 1, 2000. The only thing that happened that day was that some computers went haywire because it didn't occur to their mid- (and even late-)20th-century programmers that the 20th century would end, so the dates they used were two digits rather than four. This was the famous "Y2K bug" that people hoped would bring down civilization so Jesus could return. The difference between the turn of the Mayan b'ak'tun and the turn of the Roman millennium is that there never was a "14th b'ak'tun bug".

The Mayas, of course, are happy to collect the dollars from doomsday-minded tourists. They still exist, you see, and they even still speak their old languages in addition to their conquerors' language, Spanish (and sometimes English for the tourists). Mel Gibson even filmed his movie Apocalypto in the Maya language Yucatec.

So how did this all get started? I suspect it began with one José Argüelles, author of a book called The Mayan Factor: Path Beyond Technology and organizer of the Harmonic Convergence of 1987 (disclosure: growing up in a New Age family, I took part in it). He took the Mayan calendar, added the I Ching and other esoteric influences, and you can guess the rest. Interestingly enough, he didn't live long enough to see the world not end (he died in 2011) — but then, he never said it would. (Trivia note: he was neither Mexican nor Guatemalan, but a Midwestern American: he came from Rochester, Minnesota, not far from where I spent much of my childhood in Mankato.)

Sure enough, memetic mutation took over. Somehow, even before the Harmonic Convergence, the date 12/21/2012 got mixed up in Theosophical expectations of the return of The Christ (i.e. the Theosophical version of the Gnostic Jesus) in the form of Maitreya, the next Buddha. Eventually, cults both New Age and Evangelical formed around the Eschaton they expected on that date. This is the kind of thing my favorite major New Age figure, Dick Sutphen calls "cosmic foo-foo".

And so here we are yet again, stuck in a world that never ended, just like we were last year, twice (no thanks to one Harold Camping, Evangelical end-time prognosticator). Once again, the world has been proclaimed Twitter dead. But Twitter death never stopped the celebrities; why would it stop the world? After all, the world has been about to end since Jesus' time; it never did, and it never will — unless, of course, our leaders manage to blow it up...

Saturday, December 15, 2012

On Mass Shootings, True Heroes, and Doing the Right Thing

The article: The Heroes of Sandy Hook (BuzzFeed)

During the massacre that snuffed out the lives of twenty children and six teachers, the women profiled in the link above willingly risked death to save as many children as they could. Three of them — the principal, the school psychologist, and a first-grade teacher — died, yet succeeded in saving their children.

The story of the first-grade teacher, 27-year-old Victoria Soto, especially struck me. She hid her students in a closet just in time. When the gunman came and demanded where the students were, she told him they were in the gymnasium; she lied to protect them. Then he shot her dead and left. All her students survived.

Victoria Soto willingly gave up her life to save the children in her class. This, in my book, is the very definition of true heroism. She should be an inspiration and an example to all.

Now would I, vindictive old me, willingly risk my life to save innocents from a rampaging madman who once could have been me? Yes, back when I was the school outcast in four schools, middle and high, I had the potential to become one of these monsters. Fortunately, the mental health system was stronger, or at least my mother had enough connections to it that I got the therapy I needed. And I'm especially grateful to the child psychologist who worked with me then, Debbie Carlson, a truly compassionate person and the best therapist I would ever work with; she was there at exactly the right time.

Now, to answer my question: Normally, I'd want to either take out the bastard or run as far away as I could to make sure I didn't get killed. But I've been in one of my occasional spurts of growing up, and these heroic teachers have showed me a different way. So if I were in Victoria Soto's situation, faced with certain death yet a chance to save a classroom full of innocent and terrified children, I now know I'd do what she did: I'd face certain death calmly and misdirect the killer away from the kids. In some extreme situations, willingly giving up one's life to save others is exactly the right thing to do.

Of course this doesn't mean that doing the right thing necessarily involves giving up one's life or even risking it. It means following your conscience whenever you can, even if the whole system's against you.

Naturally, at first I was angry when I heard the horrible news, and posted a scorching rant on my opinion blog. Then I reflected more rationally (if still with some anger) in the follow-up post. But I ended up learning two lessons from the Sandy Hook Elementary tragedy:
  1. the urgent need to repair America's ailing mental health system, rebuilding it from scratch if necessary; and
  2. that in tragic and horrific situations like this, people who willingly risk death to save lives are a shining example of humanity who are an inspiration to all.
And so I honor Dawn Hochsprung (the principal), Mary Sherlach (the school psychologist), and Victoria Soto, who out of love of and compassion for children willingly gave up their lives to save the children of their school from a rampaging madman. They, and the two teachers who saved their students and survived, are true heroes who should be remembered long after the murderer has been forgotten except as "yet another school shooter". They are my heroes.

Tuesday, October 30, 2012

Reading: Destroy and Revolution, by Kouji Mori (issues 1-10)

I've posted about this manga before on the project blog, after reading just the first issue. Now I'm up to #10 and have a better idea of the story.

The high concept: superhero terrorist bromance. Makoto has amazing superpowers he doesn't want anyone to know about. Yuuki is rich, handsome, and charismatic, but hates society and the entire system, which he identifies with his hated Corporate father. Together they set out to destroy society and replace it with a new order — of which, in classic terrorist fashion, they never get any kind of clear idea. (These are not religious terrorists, who do have a clear idea of what kind of order they want to impose: a totalitarian world Ordenstaat run by themselves.)

#10 is a significant issue because it brings us up to where the story began in #1 and thus serves as a natural end point for Book 1: they destroy a subsidized apartment building intended for Diet (Japanese parliament) members, who tend to be quite rich. On the way to this gambit against the Japanese state, we find out a few things. Apparently Yuuki hates Western values and the common people, both of which he seems to think are embodied in the state. He also wears his hair long to annoy his father, a straitlaced Corporate. And he jealously chases away the girl who likes Makoto. #6 made me shake my head: an old man who exists only in that issue appears to give Makoto a mystical experience of the oneness of all things, which Makoto passes on to Yuuki in #7. For Western secular radicals, this New Age (or, in the specific Japanese context, New Religion) thing is an unwanted intrusion into revolutionary theory. So is the Japanese nationalism, since there's no independence to be won like in, say, Iraq (successful) or Afghanistan (ongoing). And the contempt for the common people that is all too common among revolutionary elites will doom his revolution to mere personal tyranny, since classical revolutionary theory states that the common people are the ground of all revolution. Rebellion against the people invariable reduces to a lust for tyranny. How different, then, is Yuuki from his father, really, when his father is already a tyrant, the all-powerful CEO of a giant corporation? Here in America, class warfare against the people is the war cry of the Corporates. Yuuki isn't waging a social revolution, the only kind that can succeed in Japan or any other country with a mature economy. The French and Russian Revolutions succeeded only to the extent that they remained social, and failed when the revolutionaries turned against the people.

In America, with its tradition of superheroes and adventure strips, Destroy and Revolution would have been a rip-roaring action comic with shocking revelations in the tradition of cinematic political thrillers and expository scenes for the revolutionary theory. In fact, that's the way I originally planned my own Chaos Angel Spanner before I turned it from a webmanga concept into a novelized TV serial. In Japan, action stories tend to be age-limited to shounen (boys') manga. The Destroy and Revolution that author Mori created is less action-oriented and more thoughtful, thus more typical of seinen (young men's) manga.

In any case, the first book concerns itself mainly with the issue of "how we got here" to the act of destruction that kicks off the manga from the meeting of two high school malcontents in scene two. It's just setting up the confrontation between the terrorist heroes and the Japanese government. Japanese tradition actually has a higher opinion of terrorists than the moralistic West, since terrorists have purity of heart the ruling class lack. Purity of heart, or samurai spirit, serves the role that flaming Latin machismo has traditionally played among Latin American guerrillas. Western radicals would rather make the case that the side they're attacking is morally wrong — which leads to the paradox that purity of heart and ideology causes more evil than it solves and is thus one of the traditional banes of Western civilization since the medieval revolts of the antinomian Free Spirit sectarians. Al-Qaeda are very much in the Western tradition of moralistic evil. The showrunner of Serial Experiments Lain wanted to provoke different reactions between Eastern and Western viewers, but failed because he never guessed how Eastern the West has become since the British Empire conquered India in the 18th century. Because its heroes are terrorists, a class of vigilante universally demonized in the West, Destroy and Revolution would serve that intention far more effectively.

These are my impressions as of Book 1. Book 2 has also been fan translated, so there will be a follow-up.

Friday, October 19, 2012

Watching: Puella Magi Madoka Magica

Puella Magi Madoka Magica was the biggest anime sensation and Japanese TV hit of 2011. Even the March 2011 earthquake that delayed the final episode couldn't ruin its popularity. However, this not-so-rich anime fan had to wait a year and a half to see it, even as the third movie, which continues the story from the end of the series (reanimated for the first two movies), is in production. Well, I finally saw it. In one five-hour session. And now I know why it got such rave reviews, and why it was Japan's hottest show of last year.

I'd heard this was the darkest take on the magical girl anime genre ever attempted, courtesy of head writer Gen Urobuchi, who's known for some really dark stuff and has even publicly admitted he's temperamentally unsuited for upbeat stories such as, naturally enough, the usual magical girl stuff. But unlike Neon Genesis Evangelion, Madoka Magica turns out not to be an allegory of the showrunner's mental breakdown disguised as a genre deconstruction. In fact, episode 12 contains the happiest ending of any Urobuchi story ever. But then I discovered exactly why it's supposed to be so awesome.

Madoka Magica isn't merely dark. In fact, it's utterly epic.

The deconstruction and grim darkness come from a strategy of taking certain magical girl tropes to such an extreme that they cancel out. The magical girls' motivation for destroying the monsters of the week (here called "witches"), for example, cancels out the standard "power of friendship" theme. In Episode 2, Mami explains to Madoka and Sayaka that magical girls' power comes from "soul gems", which grow darker as they use their power. They can only be replenished by killing witches for their "grief seeds", which are like soul gems only black and dangerous. But there's a limited supply of these grief seeds, forcing the magical girls to compete for them. Episode 5 shows they're perfectly willing to kill each other over them.

And then there's the "Faustian bargain" theme involving that sinister variation on the standard cute mascot, Kyubey — short for "Incubator". Certain witches' names (written in an alphabet of runes specially designed for the show) are references to Goethe's Faust.

The witches appear only in pocket dimensions which manifest only when they need to feed on humans or do battle with magical girls. Both the monstrous inhuman witches and their realms are depicted in flat, jerky, surreal animation right out of the 20th-century avant-garde. This was only the second thing that impressed me. The first was the conventional animation, surprisingly good for a TV show; parts of it are quite beautiful.

Madoka Magica is well known for its Wham Episodes that rival anything from J. Michael Straczynski himself (random Babylon 5 example: sorry, Commander Ivanova, but that presidential candidate you voted for? She's evil!). I won't reveal exactly what happens — that would blunt the shock — but I'll give a few clues:
  • Episode 3: Something horrible happens that establishes the true dark tone of the story. This is followed by the first appearance of the true end credits, one of the darkest and most abstract manifestations of the Urobuchi style, to a J-metal soundtrack.
  • Episode 6: we find out exactly what a magical girl is. It ain't pretty.
  • Episode 8: we find out the exact connection between magical girls and the witches they battle. Uh-oh.
  • Episode 10: the flashback episode was the one that struck me with the true brilliance of the show. We find out who the real hero of this story is (clue: her name isn't Madoka), the nature of her power, and just what kind of hell she had to go through to get to this point. And then it ends with the opening credits, to signal that the story begins where this episode ends.
  • Episode 12: Madoka makes her wish. What she wishes for shocks even Kyubey. And then the show goes cosmic. Did I mention how epic it is?
Right now I can only wonder what the production team have in store for the third movie, the one that extends the story beyond episode 12 (and the second movie). Will it be as jam-packed with plot twists as anything I've written? If anything is certain, I will be sure to find out one way or another...

Wednesday, July 4, 2012

Project 365 Day 1: A Big Start with Lots of Pictures

I was going to start this year's Project 365 on the 1st. Turns out it took until July 4th for me to break the inner block that kept me from starting. So I've started. Here's some of the many, many pictures I took today.
From Plants and Abstracts (July 4, 2012)
From Plants and Abstracts (July 4, 2012)
From Plants and Abstracts (July 4, 2012)

Wednesday, June 27, 2012

Listening: Massive Attack - Mezzanine (1998)

In 2000, Massive Attack's Mezzanine and Tricky's Maxinquaye were the CDs I used to break in my Winamp visualizations and 3D audio processors. Now I'm using Mezzanine and the Prodigy's The Fat of the Land to break in my new Blu-Ray player. Turns out that hearing it on the home theatre system in Dolby Surround is different from what I remember... I noticed how deliciously sinister every track except the two named "Exchange" (based on a pretty riff from an Isaac Hayes song their record company licensed from his) are. But undistracted by the visual pyrotechnics of G-Force, Geiss, and MilkDrop, I couldn't help notice how languid the whole thing is, except for the end of penultimate track "Group Four", which sneaks up on you. "Group Four" is also the one that shows the surround sound function of my Blu-Ray player and home theatre receiver to their best advantage. It turns out to have been one of the first albums to be available in MP3 format and one of the last of the sample era before the record companies cracked down mercilessly. As such, it's a relic of a lost age (without sounding dated) and yet a forerunner of our current digital music era.

Wednesday, June 20, 2012

Believe It Or Not, Summer's Actually Come To Seattle

A year or two ago, we were stuck with cold weather in Seattle. We called it "Juneuary". Well, it's the official first day of summer, and guess what? It's hot here. Even the rainy days will get up to the upper 60s for the rest of the month. That's a big improvement over "Juneuary". Even so, at least we on the West Coast don't have to deal with the 100°+ heat wave that's hitting the East Coast...

Sunday, June 17, 2012

Watching: Prometheus

When I saw a couple of the trailers on YouTube a couple weeks ago, I knew this would be the movie my brother would be most likely to take me and Mom to see. And so it was. And so this is "the Space Jockey movie" (using the big guys' nickname from Alien; here they're called "Engineers"). I was warned (by online reviews, not my brother) that some people didn't like it. But I did, and I can see why it has a 74% rating on Rotten Tomatoes. My brother thought it was brilliant. I have different standards; I thought it was at least good enough, though not as brilliant as, say, Alien and Aliens. And even though I'd already read all the spoilers on the TV Tropes page, I still managed to find myself surprised by that last Space Jockey. There were a few predictable things. The guys who panic and flee being the first to die? Check. There were also some weak points, mostly involving characters carrying the "idiot ball" (there's a whole list on the TV Tropes Prometheus page under "Idiot Ball" At least Fifield and Milburn have an excuse (their panic robbed them of their reason). Weyland is similar in that he's a corporate "king" (the word is actually used, though not in any official sense) whose desire to defeat death overrides his reason. But Janek (the pilot) has no excuse but picks up the idiot ball anyway and runs with it. The unpredictable part involved Vickers, Shaw, and a certain director, but I won't spoil that one. There were some very clever reveals involving Vickers, Weyland, David (the android, whose nature this time is revealed almost immediately), the surviving Space Jockey, the nature of his Engineer faction's mission, and — the stinger at the end, right before the credits. I did notice they used the Alien Astronaut theory (as in Erich von Däniken and Zecharia Sitchin) as the movie's starting premise. Back to my opinion. I did enjoy it, enough that I plan to get the Blu-Ray to play on that 50+ inch TV I intend to get.

Monday, June 11, 2012

Drawing Again: Preparation

Yesterday I posted on my project blog that I've started drawing again. The long bout of writer's block I've suffered for the past 6 years has finally ended. There's a problem that comes with that, though. I'm drawing figures. I know little enough about drawing figures that I'm feeling really frustrated. Drawing heads and pretty faces is much, much easier for me, simply because I've practiced drawing them for so long (seven years, in fact, from 1999 to 2006). So back to the bookcase I go. I picked two books to learn from: Jack Hamm's Drawing the Head and Figure, and Burne Hogarth's Dynamic Figure Drawing. The first will help me with the "contrapposto" poses I'm trying to draw right now. The second will help me with action poses from all angles. Actually, I'm fairly good at what little I can draw. I think yesterday's two rough sketches of my character Shira's midsection and beautiful behind are quite good. It's what I don't know that's driving me back to the instruction books. And so the learning resumes. Meanwhile, I ought to start practicing drawing heads again to bring back all the skills I've learned over the years back to memory...

Friday, July 15, 2011

Project 365 Days 13 and 14

Continuing my Project 365 to the end of the second week, here's two groups of pictures from the last two days. Starting with the smaller one, on day 14:



The larger group of pictures came on day 13:

Tuesday, July 12, 2011

Project 365 Day 12

I was walking the neighborhood, and my muse caught sight of the trees. "You will take a picture," she commanded, "and then you will post it on your blog and Google+." So I looked for a good shot. The first set of trees I considered looked right at first glance. But I decided on another. Here's the picture I took.