fierynotes: Picture of Destruction, from the Sandman series, reading a book and slinging a guitar. (Default)
This is my front page. If you want me to add you, drop me a line here. Or, add me. Either way, I'll check you out. You can also drop me a line here if, for instance, you don't have my email address. All comments here are screened.

This post also includes every tag I have -- this is because my current LJ style doesn't include a tag index. (At least half of my participation on LJ is on my phone. I chose this style because, as bare-bones as it is, it loads quickly and it's still readable on a small screen.)

I'd tell you more about myself, but that's what my profile -- and the rest of my LJ -- is for.
fierynotes: Picture of a B diminished 7th chord (B, D, F, A flat) followed by an inversion, in flames. (Bdim7)
I haven't listened to Slayer in several years, but I was still sad that Jeff Hanneman died four days ago. Then, I discovered that the Westboro Baptist Church are intending to picket his funeral, and I was suddenly amused.

Yeah. A small pack of lawyers trying to piss off a large mob of metalheads.

This'll end well.
fierynotes: Picture of Gilgamesh Wulfenbach, from Girl Genius.  He looks tired. (tired)
(None of these links actually contain porn, but I still wouldn't click them at work.)

First, a whole bunch of women in porn, with and without makeup. While there are a few who are covering up some rather worrying conditions, for the most part they look like, well, any other woman you'd meet on the street, in a grocery store, at the DMV, or anywhere else. If you care to point out that any one of the women (or men) around you could be in porn and you'd never know it, that's a fair observation. (I've sold at least three cameras to people who were going to film themselves professionally, and at the time, they all looked like everyday people. Some very interesting and fun conversations came with each of these sales...) If you care to point out that such widespread use of makeup implies some troubling things about our beauty standards, that's also a fair observation.

Second, a little over a month ago, this guy in porn killed himself. By all accounts, he was a good guy, loved as well as lusted after, and worked as a chemical engineer before getting into porn, which is to say that he had a brain and could have stayed in a nice "respectable" job but chose to go into porn because he genuinely enjoyed it. Looks, brains, a fulfilling career... and yet, depression hurt him just as much as it hurts some of the rest of us. (I found out about this guy because I've been trying to be more honest with my friends about how I occasionally have to fight off the urge to off myself. Then, one of them saw that this porn star he liked had killed himself, remembered that I fight depression occasionally... and has been worrying about me entirely too much.)

Finally, another suicide, this one shedding light on how marriage equality is actually a serious issue. (I found this one by accident, by googling "gay porn suicide" because I didn't remember Arpad Miklos' name. It illustrates that a porn actor is still a normal human being, though, so I'm including it in this post.)

(Suicide among performers is, sadly, not all that rare. Unfortunately, the best link I can dig up at the moment is Pink Cross Foundation, a faith-based organization which seems to hate performers -- ahem, sorry, they don't hate the sinners, they just hate the sin -- until they either quit or die, at which point they become heroic survivors or tragic victims. Google it if you're interested; I refuse to give them hits.)
fierynotes: Picture of Discord. (discord)
Most sci-fi looks to the future, but a little of it looks to the past. Of the stuff that does, a lot of it looks at one significant event in history and creates a narrative starting from that. For instance, at least two writers that I know of -- Spider Robinson and Jeff Smith -- have blamed Tesla for the Tunguska event, and come up with stories that had potentially universe-ending implications from it.

If you take this same idea, use a background of US Rocket History, add several doses of black humor and Things I won't Work With, and shake vigorously over the always-entertaining, sometimes-insane conversations you'll hear at conventions, you might end up with A Tall Tail, by Charles Stross. You would have to be one sick puppy to find this story funny... but since it made me laugh so hard that [ profile] ologbu jumped off my lap in annoyance, I wouldn't fault you for it.

(On a more serious note, I should add that Stross ended up naming one evil compound that hasn't appeared in Things I Won't Work With... yet. Dimethylmercury is one of the most toxic substances known to humans, and the stuff killed Dr. Karen Wetterhahn in 1997 despite her taking every chemical safety precaution known at the time. It wasn't her fault the stuff travels through gloves like a ghost through a brick wall.)

Edited to add: Oops. He knows Dimethylmercury, and won't work with it.
fierynotes: Picture of Daimon, from Marvel comics, without a shirt.  'Look at me, I have muscles!' (flirty)
A while back, I did a couple of posts dedicated to musicians who happened to be beautiful women (here and here on LJ, here and here on DW), complete with links to some of their songs. At the time, these posts were well-received. There are a couple of factors that could have contributed to that: the photos themselves were tasteful, I showed respect for the ladies in question as musicians as well as beautiful people... and let's face it, most of you here have known me for a while and know that I'm not a sexist asshole, which probably got me a lot of benefit of doubt where other guys who made a similar post might have gotten a hairy eyeball. Admitting that you notice that a given woman is beautiful... while still treating her with respect. It can be done!

Recently (here on LJ, here on DW), in an aside in another post, I suggested that Revolver ought to complement their yearly "hot chicks in metal" article with a "hot dudes in metal" one... not remembering that I'd done those other two posts.

So. Ahem. I guess it's... er, probably time for me to... um, put my money where my mouth is.

Beneath these cuts, you'll find some of the more attractive men in metal. As with those earlier posts, I confined myself to attractive people that I also respect as musicians. Still, if you're not into long-haired pretty-boys, you may want to give the rest of this post a miss. Or not -- there's still some good crunchy music here.

(I should point out that this post was a bit harder to make than the posts with female musicians. Outside of the really mainstream lite-metal, i.e. hair metal and its descendants (and no, you won't find any of that shit here), men are not encouraged to play up their looks. Quite the opposite, in fact -- one of the examples below seems to actively play down his looks when on stage. As Strongbad once said, the gift of death metal does not smile upon the good-looking. Fortunately, no one's gluing corn flakes to their faces.)

Teemu Mäntysaari )

Fotis Benardo )

Henkka Seppälä )

Mark Jansen )

Mathias Nygård )

Tobias Sammet )

Chuck Schuldiner )

I've no doubt left out many worthy people from this list. You must express your disappointment and tell me all about it in the comments! (Because I'm totally not planning to cheat and maybe use your suggestions for a possible follow-up post or anything...)
fierynotes: Picture of Arsenal, from DC comics, looking very pissed off. (angry)
Dear Bill O'Reilly,

Drugs are a hard thing to escape, and when you don't have them, or when you've had too much of them and they're starting to lose their shine, the world can feel like a very ugly place. If you can't find something to hold on to, it's all too easy to kill yourself, and it's even easier to stop caring whether you live or die. This is made more difficult by the fact that when you start behaving like an addict, it tends to push away the people who care about you, those people with ties to you that could make life worth living if you could just see them. If you're rich or famous, the people who aren't pushed away by that kind of behavior probably don't give a shit about you, and if you're at all perceptive, you probably know it.

I've seen this too many times, minus the fame. I've been there, minus the fame -- since I had no fame or wealth, I at least knew everyone who chose to be around me gave a shit about me, though at times I couldn't see the reasons for it. I have too many friends who've been there. I have at least one friend who is watching this cycle close-up again after having escaped it himself. If you take away the glamour and fame, that dead pop star could have been me, or any one of a bunch of people I care about. I was able to find reasons to care about myself, reasons to continue living, reasons to stop destroying myself. Plenty of other people are not as lucky, and as we've seen lately, fame doesn't really help.

Not that I expect you to give a shit what I think, but with all this in mind, here goes:

Fuck you. Fuck you sideways with a rusty metal sculpture of a very large cactus. Every word you've said about Whitney Houston is technically correct, but proves you don't understand a godsdamned thing. The sad thing is, for you, that's a step up.

[ profile] fierynotes
fierynotes: Picture of Destruction, from the Sandman series, reading a book and slinging a guitar. (Default)
"What do you want done with your body after you die?" -- LJ's Question of the Day

I don't care. Once I'm dead, my body is merely meat. Burn my cadaver and use it to fertilize marijuana plants. Cut me up and use me as stew meat to feed the homeless. Rent me out to a rich necrophile. Really. I do not care.

Just treat my family with a little kindness -- they're a little more sentimental than I am in this respect. To use that last example, if some rich necrophile decides to discreetly use my corpse for cheap thrills, I'll be elbowing all my other ghostly friends in the imaginary ribs and joking about it. "See? Even when I'm dead, I'm irresistible!" However, if said necrophile is stupid or cruel enough to traumatize my surviving relatives with the knowledge that he's plunging his stiffy into my stiff, he can look forward to the rest of his life being filled with phenomena that will the movie Poltergeist look like a Disney cartoon.

Okay, seriously. All jokes aside, that whole "how we treat the body" thing is not for the dead. It's for the living. The living have all these psychological needs for things like closure. The dead do not. Let the living handle it.
fierynotes: Picture of Bill Weasley, from Harry Potter, looking serious. (staring)
Three people of some renown died lately.

It happens. Sooner or later, we all die. One day, all that will be left of each and every one of us is the memories of us that other people carry, and the things we've created.

We only get one shot. How you're remembered after you die is determined by how you live today. In three cases in particular? One of them will be remembered for a huge body of work in the field of music, as well as some modest success in acting. One of them will be remembered for having done stupid shit like shoving toy cars up his ass (NSFW!) on film. And one of them will be remembered for having been a talentless bile-spewing hatefilled assgoblin (NSFW, possibly triggering if you've ever been a junkie or gone down on one).

Yes, there is a cultural taboo against speaking ill of the dead, and yes, I've just broken it. (And not for the first time, either.) All that taboo accomplishes is some tiny measure of mercy for the people who cared about the deceased -- it doesn't change how people remember them. That taboo may prevent me from gloating about Seth Putnam's death in front of his immediately family, should I ever meet them, but it does not make him any less an talentless bile-spewing hate-filled assgoblin, and it does not make me (or any of Anal Cunt's thousands of other detractors) any less likely to remember him as such.

Obviously, it's too late for Seth Putnam. It's not too late for you.

One (hopefully distant) day, you will die. Be remembered.

And even more importantly, be remembered well.
fierynotes: Picture of Arsenal, from DC comics, looking very pissed off. (angry)
So, I couldn't help noticing the big deal about someone's birthday today, and I thought I'd mention a few things I remember about the birthday boy. The thing is, I'm an atheist who doesn't like having religious ideology shoved down my throat, and I'm a man who absolutely insists that having sex with men occasionally does not make me a lesser human being. Because of who and what I am, speaking of my memories of the birthday boy will involve speaking a little ill of the dead.

Or possibly throwing shit at the dead. )
fierynotes: Picture of Daimon, from Marvel comics, without a shirt.  'Look at me, I have muscles!' (flirty)
Jack LaLanne

September 26, 1914 -- January 23, 2011

For those of you unfamiliar, this gentleman was a visionary. He told regular people that they could be more fit without having to buy special equipment, he told athletes that they could lift weights without turning slow and inflexible, he told women that they could lift weights and not be any less feminine... and he did it long before it was trendy or profitable. Granted, he made the ground fertile for a whole bunch of bullshit to follow, but that can't really be fairly blamed on him.

You can't fight off death forever... but this guy really made the Grim Reaper work for it. I like to picture Death making wheezing noises, totally out of breath. "I... finally... caught up... with you... you... BASTARD!"
fierynotes: Picture of Destruction, from the Sandman series, reading a book and slinging a guitar. (Default)
The Good News

I just got Rubicon, Tristania's newest release. It's really damned good, but I should point out that it has little in common with early Tristania. If you're hoping for them to put out a CD of gothy, black-metally goodness with operatic soprano vocals, you're in for a world of disappointment. On the other hand, if you like progressive sensibilities and you think that vocal harmonies in metal are seriously underrated, you'll really like this one. Mariangela Demurtas is actually a good singer on this, though if I ever get a chance to see the band live, I'm sure I'll wince a lot if she sings any of Vibeke Stene's lines.

I'd recommend it wholeheartedly, but this is the modern age, with computers and everything -- you no longer have to take my word for it. This is their MySpace page. (Yes, musicians still use MySpace. I can't imagine that anyone else does, though.) The embedded player has three songs off Rubicon: "Year of the Rat," "Exile," and "Sirens," and you can listen for yourself before deciding whether to buy it.

(My favorite song is "Illumination," but that's partly because the lyrics are insightful, and more than a little disturbing.)

The Bad News

I can't say I've ever liked Behemoth much -- I'll grant that they are more than competent, but most of their music sounds, to me, like they'd just discovered Morbid Angel at the point when Morbid Angel had just discovered seven string guitars. (For comparison's sake, Morbid Angel's Covenant came out in 1993. Behemoth's Evangelion came out in 2009.)

That said, I'd never wish leukemia on anyone, and his loss would be a blow to the music scene around him -- his death would affect the Polish death-metal scene about as hard as Chuck Schuldiner's death affected the Florida one. Given that Adam "Nergal" Darski has been known to destroy Bibles onstage, I'm sure it's only a matter of time before we hear some crazy fundamentalist claiming that cancer was God's Judgment on him. Personally, I'd like to believe that any god who is truly omnipotent would be a little bigger than smiting a musician over showing a little disrespect... but that kind of thinking is part of why I don't have gods.

(He may pull through, but dude's in really bad shape (he's past the point where chemo would be of any help), which is why I'm using the "goodbyes" tag.)
fierynotes: Picture of Destruction, from the Sandman series, reading a book and slinging a guitar. (Default)
Jeanne Robinson
March 30, 1948 -- May 30, 2010
fierynotes: Picture of Destruction, from the Sandman series, reading a book and slinging a guitar. (Default)
The Bad News...

Peter Steele was originally in a thrash band named Carnivore, which... well, as far as I know, was frequently controversial (they had song titles like "Male Supremacy," "God is Dead," and "Jesus Hitler"), but didn't really go anywhere, because the music was kinda shit.

He's much better known for the band Type O Negative, which managed to be totally goth... while occasionally making fun of goth posturing. Oh, and posing for Playgirl. At the time, he was pleased to do it... and then someone went and told him that over three quarters of Playgirl's readers were men, and well, he took that badly. (You can see several of the pictures here (NSFW!). For those of you whose eyes are going straight to his dick: before you decide just how big you think it was, I should point out that he was 6'8" (203 cm). You know, for proper perspective.)

And just recently, he died of heart failure. He was quite a bit of an asshole, whether earnestly or just out of hopes of getting more people to pay attention, but the music was usually good. Well, the Type O Neg stuff was, at least.

The (Somewhat Belated) Good News...

Sarah Jezebel Deva has had a new one out for two months, and I've somehow failed to notice! How could this happen!

(A while back, in one of my "hot talented women in metal" posts, I posted a few songs by her band Angtoria. A few of you thought her stuff sounded like video game music... and you'll probably think the same of her current release. A few of you really liked her, though, and so do I, so here she is.)
fierynotes: Picture of Destruction, from the Sandman series, reading a book and slinging a guitar. (Default)
Well, the first one went over well, so here's another. Beneath the cut, you'll find lots of tasteful pictures of beautiful women... but there's more to this post than that. Each one of these women is also a damned fine musician. Each picture is a link to a song on YouTube, so that you can hear her for yourself. The Gothic Metal still predominates, since women are far better represented in that subgenre than in any other subgenre of metal.

(I tried to find pictures of Jo Bench (Bolt Thrower) and Leather Leone (Chastain), but gave up after Google Image Search gave me hundreds of pictures of furniture and jackets. I also decided against including Lita Ford, Doro Pesch, or Joan Jett. Maybe in a retro edition...)

Now, on to the ladies! There are twenty-one images under this cut, so if you have a slow internet connection, it may take a while to load. )


fierynotes: Picture of Destruction, from the Sandman series, reading a book and slinging a guitar. (Default)


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