To avoid drawing this out longer than necessary: Dropping from the interwebs for a while to reflect and focus on what's important.

Life is fucking fantastic, but it took a lot of bullshit to get there. And while I do love going into long rambles about my life, that's another story for another time.

"In this world of nothing for me, I'd be sooner destroyed"

Not that I'm going to cash my chips in anytime soon. I'll be ok simply because I have no other choice.

Welcome to life.

Justin, you wanted to be a writer in one point in life for a reason. Start doing it more, Goddammit.

Well, almost. I'm still moving crap back and forth. Just posting in case it seems like I fell off the face of the earth.

...and whoever said that never smoked pot. It's much more efective.

Although if I listen to "Trapped in Air" while I'm high again, I just might fall into a slumber so deep, everyone else will think it's a coma.

The album is that amazing. Stop being lazy and go listen to it.

I find it amazing how the bonds you form in life are like nylon guitar strings. They take a pounding, last a long time, and can give you amazing results. However, if you apply just the right amount of pressure, they can easily snap.

But before I go into that, I feel a need to dive inside my head, and dig around with the metaphorical equivalent of a rusty spoon. You see, I'm fucking crazy.

Things in life are fucking wonderful, and I say this with no ill regard or sarcasm. Things at work are good, with a promotion to Asst. Manager coming in the New Year, I'll be driving soon, I'll be spending a week with the most amazing girl I've ever met at the turn of the month, Fallout 3 releases on Tuesday, and I've got the Gojira show (Fuck you haters, the past two albums have been amazing) coming in December. Thanksgiving brings the family together, and then there's Christmas, which brings dank gifts (including a keyboard to get this band shit on the up and up), and good times. With so much wonderment, why the fuck do I feel so shitty that I can't sleep?

But before the wambulance kicks it's nitrous in, a quick lecture on my nature in general.

Dictionary.com defines being "Scatterbrained" as: "A person incapable of serious, connected thought", something that's rather perfect to describe me to a T in the past few years. I tend to loose my train of thought at random times, will completely forget important details in regards to weighty matters (work and music being two of those things), and as a friend of mine put it plainly "You just tend to do really stupid shit at times". Some days, it never kicks in at all, but occasionally, the usually daily tasks become Ninja Gaiden on crack: Extremely Impossible, but still manageable with some time and effort. Now, before it seems like this musing is completely...well..scatterbrained, follow my lead.

On top of being scatterbrained, I'm slightly bi-polar. I say slightly because while I have no intention to do something extremely stupid like end my life at my own hands, my aforementioned mental quirks will kick in, and become something darker, and no matter how hard I'll try to fight it, my head overpowers me, and the process of simply existing, processing information, and even being aware of my surroundings fucking hurts. And while I don't have the deep depression that tends to dominate my mother's side of the family in these parts, I've still got enough of it that I'll be perfectly fine, and then out of nowhere, fucking BAM! I wouldn't quite label it a depression, but it sure as hell isn't something that I enjoy dealing with when it comes up. Pain is pain, regardless of how you come across it.

"Look at the shell that is you
Empty, Fragile, Weak
Soon the battle is over
Lost to Apathy"
Dark Tranquility

Like on nights like tonight.

The Featherbrained-ness kicks in, and leads to a general sadness all around, eventually morphing into a sort of metaphysical pain. And in an effort to try to regain some form of mental clarity, my mind wonders. This is an extremely bad combination, and after years of dealing with this (mind you, this was a problem before I started doing drugs, and was something much worse in my younger years) it gets worse every time it comes up, lasts for longer periods and fucks up what is pretty much a perfect existence otherwise. I've got good friends, a roof over my head, and a select few that I can go to about anything that comes across my way. Knowing that the last exists...that I'm not fucking insane for feeling like this as good as I've got it, has been the key to keeping my perception of sanity without becoming a recluse.

Which brings me to...someone who shall remain nameless, but is extremely important anyway.

When I was in high school my freshman year, I chose to not dress out for P.E one day, this person did the same, and after asking me what I was reading, what has been a longtime friendship was started. While I've stayed here, this person eventually moved to California, and yet, that old nylon string was intact, and has been to this day, even with them getting enlisted into the Navy, becoming fluent in Chinese for a linguist gig, and them getting back in touch with me earlier this evening after a few months to inform me that they're moving to Florida with their married kin, and how I've been missed greatly. This helped break my mental bullshit for the duration of the conversation, and at least gave me enough room to fucking breathe, mainly because despite all of my bullshit, I was able to bring someone else peace just because I cared, much like the people I lean on do for me. Consider that string strong as ever.

But strings break, and one of the most important one has snapped and I'm still trying to process this on a level that allows me to stop dwelling on it. I know, what a fucking emo kid, right?

I'm sure it's painful for anyone when a close tie is severed for whatever reason, but it's always something more brutal in my case because it always happens. No matter how close I get to people, circumstances out of my control take over, and pretty much every major tie gets cut. I felt that it would happen to the point that during one of my episodes, I told this person in question "Don't worry, you're going to leave me like everyone else". Dispite efforts on both ends, the person has pretty much been a ghost in the past few months, with not a single word exchanged since I last saw them in person. String: Broken.

So far, in the long term, no one's proven me wrong. They all leave.

But regardless of all of that, how do you cope? How do you convince yourself that the efforts you're making to be a fucking human aren't in vain? How in the fuck are you supposed to function in your daily grind when you've got your mind fighting you every step of the way? It's a concept that I'm still trying to learn, without being this depressed fuck when I'm forced out into the open world, where people know me to be a pretty jolly guy. Damnit, I thought I was done feeling like this. Guess I was wrong.

So, combine my depression (for a lack of a better term) with my clingy-ness to the people I'm cool with, and then mix that with some good ol' apathy, and a bit of personal loss to understand my mood at the moment. And while I'll pull out of it enough to not show a sign of it while I'm at work in a hour and a half, it's still going to be there, lurking around in the back of my head, making the day ahead that much more difficult.

But I'm trying to fight this, and cut away the factors that cause this mental imparity in the first place. The hardest part, however, is admitting that people who used to care simply don't anymore, wether they realise it or not. All the while, I'm trying to convince myself that they're not worth my time anyway in the first place.

It's just hard. But then again, things in this sort of matter are never easy.

The only reason why I'm bothering to post this in a semi-public format is the hope that someone will actually come across it, and know that they're not the only one who has to endure this private hell. Also, in doing that, I'm hoping to find that I'm not alone as well.

Then again, all strings break eventually.

So, the new Metallica album dropped last Friday, to much fanfare, critical praise (Even Martin Popoff, from Brave Words and Bloody Knuckles gave it a 9.0), and fanboy elation. And while I've tried to get into it, given my rabid love of everything up to "...And Justice For All", it's like when a little kid goes into his father's closet, and tried on the oversized dress shoes, in that you can appreciate the effort made, but you just can't fill those shoes, no matter how hard you try. In other words, even Metallica can't match up to classic Metallica material.

Which brings me to the subject line for the blog in the first place. But I'm not just screaming  furiously at In Flames. Blind Guardian, Slayer, Mercenary, Metallica, Behemoth, Megadeth, Dream Theater, SoIL, LiVE, and a ton of other bands (Fill in you own appropiate answer here after reading the rest of this) are guilty of something that I think can be avoided: Releasing great, classic, and even genre defying albums, only to eventually turn to shit, and releasing mediocre material. While this brings in a slue of new fans who are more casual in their musical approach, you're not only alienating the fans that "got it" in your earlier days, but also pissing on your legacy (and in some cases, the new sub-genre you've created), and those fans in the process.

Maybe I'm cynical after seeing this happen over, and over, and over again, but it just makes NO fucking sence to me whatsoever. How can a band create something that can be called "amazing", "beautiful", "dank", "genre defying", or even in some cases "art", only to throw a wrench in at some point and completely fuck it up? Is mainstream success so important that you have to comprimise yourself as an artist in order to pay your bills in the American music scene? Is it THAT hard to follow up on albums like "Master of Puppets", "Clayman", "11 Dreams", "Blackwater Park" "Somewher Far Beyond",  "Iowa", "Throwing Copper", "Something Wild" and other classics?

Or have we (we being the older-metal fans who happen to be reading this) become so jaded and spoiled by quality albums that newer releases just can't hold up to the material that we hold so close to heart?

I've actually started to question if the problem is actually the artists, or just the fact that I'm an asshole. Come along, and let's see what's causing the rot in the root, so to speak.

Also, while this situation applies to other musicians outside of the rock/metal genre (Enimem, and Tori Amos, I'm looking at you!), I'm focusing on this particular sector of music, to avoid making a complete ass of myself.

Let's look at the subject band for the blog, In Flames.

I'm going to assume that you're all ready familiar with the band, thanks to it's worldwide exposure through MTV2, getting signed to Nuclear Blast, and their blowout (or in this case, blowhard) albums "Soundtrack To Your Escape", "Come Clarity", and most recently, "A Sence Of Purpose. With that being a given, I'm not going to make this into a biography of the band. Do your fucking homework every once in a while.

Now, In Flames are considered one of the leaders of the 1990's Gothenburg Death Metal movement, releasing monumental albums such as "Whoreacle" and "Clayman" in their wake, waving the flag for superior metal while forging their own path, in effect paving the way for their countrymen after At The Gates called it a day. This grants them exposure to wider audiences internationally, and eventually births the album "Reroute To Remain", which, while still expirmential, retained the core of what made In Flames great. HOWEVER, then came "Soundtrack", a deviation from the writing skills that introduced elements of nu-metal, general hard rock, and dare I say it...EMO, which I personally consider the beginning of the end.

Now, someone that's not as fanatical as myself, or one of the people on my friend's list can appreciate the albums after "Reroute", they probably didn't come into the fold until "Soundtrack" came out (I actually started listening to IF around that time), hence they don't know about the superior material that brought them to that point in the first place. At that point, do we only fault the band for dumbing down their music for mass consumption, or do we find outselves at fault for only bitching about how terrible so and so band is, without making a greater effort to educate our fellow fans on the supposed evils they're partaking in? Although I'm using In Flames as an example here, any band that has had this happen can be used.

I look at it like this: Imagine you create the most badass, forfilling, tasty stew anyone has ever eaten, to the point that they call it something new. Since it's my stew, I'm going to call it "brank", a combination of "Broth", and "dank" (use Urban Dictionaty if you need "dank" defined for you.) Now, lets say that the recipie callls for an exact blend of ingrediants in order to maintain it's awesomeness,but it only feeds four. Those four people eat my "brank", hail it's superority, and everyone involved is happy.

At that point, I decide to open a restruant, and expose my brew to the masses. When it first starts off, and I have a small, but very loyal base of customers, I start slightly tweaking the recipie to try to improve my brank. Both the very first people who tasted it to begin with, and the new diners are happy with it. They go off, and tell their friends "Hey, Justin's brank is the shit! You should go check it out." Then as the masses converge at my little eatery, I just say "Fuck it", and rather than make my brank to feed 100 at the same extremely high quality, I just dump the original recipie into a big soup pot, and then pour a bunch of water into it, boil it, and serve it. What results is a watered down version of my original brank: Still good, but the original was so much better, and forfilling. The new custoners like the new stuff, because they never had the original. But the  first brank fans comming to the eatery are pissed the fuck off at how shitty is it compaired to the original. Regardless, the new customers, and very few of the original ones, are hapy enough to keep comming back. My bills get paid, and I get rich as hell in the process.

My point is that it just seems like the artists in question aren't exactly getting "lazy", it's just that with commercial pressures, record label hassles, and bills to pay, the bands just somehow always fuck it up at a certain point. What depresses the hell out of me is the fact that this is starting to become the rule, instead of the exception.

One band that I would like to praise for actually fixing this slump is Opeth. To fully understand my perspective on this, you have to know that "Blackwater Park" is one of my favorite albums, ever. It's perfect and there's nothing you can tell me to say otherwise. So, when "Ghost Reveries" came out, I was pissed. Actually, I was so infuriated at it, that I took the burnt copy I had (see previous blog about refusing to purchace RoadRunner albums) and smashed it, and then threw the pieces in the toilet, AFTER that, I took a shit, and flushed it. True story.

BUT, with Watershed, the band has not only overcome the slump that GR caused in the eyes of this not-at-all-humble metal nerd, it's taken the band to a new level that makes me await the new album with the same fanatical frenzy that I once did for the new Blind Guardian, Dream Theater, LiVE, and Persuader albums at the appropiate times.

What scares me the most about this is what's going to happen to bands that have yet to have it happen? God forbid that amazing bands like Belphegor, Dark Empire, and others that I can name have the same happen to them.

It's really, really, really, really, really, really, really fucking weird how, despite everything you might think, feel, and know, life will constantly surprise you with the screwballs that it tends to throw at you, especially in the crotch region.

You amass friends, and you believe that the bonds you form will be lifetime endeavors with wonderful times to be ensued in the process, then bonds fade, or are completely broken by things such as time, misdeeds, or just some other clusterfuck that comes along and disturbs the tranquility that you try to amass.

You gain lovers, who snag your heart completely, only to either completely drop off the radar, or they do something like, I dunno, rip your heart out and eat it in front of you, while they never realize that it happened in the first place. or they try to make amends until you show signs that you don't need them anymore.

You try to form comprehensions of the outside world, and then you grow older, and learn that not everything you think is set in stone. Rather, it seems like knowledge is a clay foundation that can shift in a heartbeat at the most subtle of changes.

You stop believing in justice, and then your former stepfather, who you watched,  twist your mother and sister emotionally as hard as he can, making you want to taste his blood as you claw his fucking eyes out falls on his neck, and completely fucks his life up.

You think you believe in vengeance, and then you cry on the phone with your mother when you hear the news about the aforementioned. And when you do, you bawl them out hard.

You think people are Gods...and then they die.

And most importantly, you spend your days freaking the fuck out due to outside conditions and your own mental dementia, only to either find salvation, something to believe in....or you fail...

It's not so much that everything's changing that's fucking with me, it's the fact that everything is turning out so damned well. Let me explain:

I've spent the majority of my lifetime dealing with all forms of chaos. Be it either external conditions due to family, changes with friends, or the fact that I'm just so damned weird overall that it made life a hard thing to deal with. But nowadays, everything's smooth sailing, with a few bumps in the road that havn't been that difficult to deal with.

At the beginning of this year, a dear friend remarked: "Man, (2007) was a terrible year, possibly the worst fucking one in my life." And with everything we had going on, I agreed.

What's unsettling about it all is the fact that everything at this point is just going too well. I'm moving up at my job, I've got fucking killer friends who have helped me through thick and thin, and also welcome me with open arms and a drink on the weekends.

Life is good. Damned good. And nothing's more brutal than that.

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Release date confirmed. Can you tell I'm excited?

So, I'm 21. Big fucking woop. In a nutshell, this now means that should I ever find myself at a show with a beer in my hand, I woln't be turned over to proper authorities. The fun, illlegal-no-matter-how-old-you-get substances however, are going to be a problem, as even the snowball's chance of Hell that is Ron Paul's election isn't going to make the all natural, God created sweet leaf legal in my lifetime.

Oh well, there are other matters here to address, and I've got to be at work by five.

Well, I've noticed quite a few things as of this past weekend. And while they havn't been the Earth-shattering usual revelations that I tend to have every six months or so (last one being Progpower, but more on that later), it did open my extremely Asian eyes to a few things.

For example, I've been on Myspace for around four years. Yes, that means that I lied about my age back in the day, but I also wanted to get in on this whole "blog" concept that had been thrown around the infoshpere. Imagine the idea: Like minded people using the public airwas of the internet to not only keep some form of written archive, but freely exchanging messages in a format that encompassed e-mail, public bulletin boards, and multi-media to create an online comunity that things like forums just couldn't touch. And imagine the tools at the disposal for bands! As much as I've bitched over the eons about good artists (First country as a wee lad, then Alternative hipster bands in my pubesent years, and eventually good ol METAL) not being able to reach the masses, this would not only be a way for artists with any merrit to reach their audience, but they could actually roll dodge the bullshit that record companies require to support them, and most importantly, create something of meaning in this day and age that wasn't touched with dirty hands at any point during the creation process.

Damnit, I'm rambling.

Anyway, when I created my account here, the old blogs were full of things like long rants on daily live, the things I'm passionate about, random musings, and the other bullshit any 16 year old rambles about when they think that someone, anyone really, is listening.

Fast forward to now, and the last time I actually wrote something on here was November, concerning running into Robert for the first time in a couple of years. I take this as one of two things:

1) I'm just too busy to write anymore.
I know this one is bullshit, simply because when I'm not pouring over the thick pages of some random novel, obsessing over whatever band caught my ear at the time, getting old musings/song ideas down in a Composition Book, or posting on Deviant Art, I'm actually more involved in the creative writing process, and it's
effects as a whole, more than ever in life.

2) Quite honestly, I've actually grown the fuck up without realising it, and I don't have nearly enough to bitch about anymore.

At one point in life, more than anything, I wanted to be a pro wrestler.  This was also during a period in life that I honestly don't clearly remember, due to circumstances that I woln't dull you with here.

Cliff's Notes: Mom gets pregnant, birth's a bastard child, and then leaves home a few years later, needing to find her place in the world, while entrusting her parents with the well being of her child, less it suffers like she's had to do over the years. Grandma always seemed to be sad (later found out due to her excessive drinking), and Grandpa was hardly home (mainly due to the fact that  nearly everyone in the Hicks clan is batshitfuckingcrazy, myself included) working his ass off to provide for 
his family while his wife kept the home front the best that she could.

Now, I'm not going to go into this overly weepy rant that paints me as some 
mentally abused child through neglect, because I was loved deeply and taken 
care of as a child, and wouldn't be the person I am today without facing my fare 
share of trials, something that everyone with any form of character deals with. Sure, in my situation, I had to see and expierence a lot of rather fucked up shit that no one ever should, but I'm better for it.

So, when you grow up as the steriotypical white, overweight nerdy kind in a majority-black town, you figure out ways to deal with it. My buffer just happened to be trying to appease everyone that I was surrounded with. So I was a good student, very respectfull to everyone, funny,  bla, bla, bla. Also, during this period, I discovered that I wanted to be a profesisonal wrestler.

On Monday's, I'd stay up untill sometime between 11-12 at night to catch WWF RAW, which at the time was the Godly-necter of wrestling. On a weekly basis, these people would beat the shit out of each other for my entertainment, and I honestly was convinced that I wasn't the really weird kid who was way into 
Alan Jackson and Johnny Cash for my own good. These people were like me, going out of their way to be charming, entertaining, and in my yound mind, worth a shit to others.

Things are a bit fuzzy from that era in life due to a lot of factors, 
but....

Cliif's Notes 2: I aged a bit, moved out of Columbus for Albany at the ripe age of 13, and basically had my world crash down on me. However, the whole wrestling thing just sort of, stuck. 

But eventually, I grew older, and then the Alternative years came down on me. LiVE, Tonic, Radiohead, Collective Soul, and some of the heavier bands of the era that would pave the way for the whole  "BLIND GUARDIAN IS THE GREATEST FUCKING BAND IN THE WORLD" thing later on were the order of the day. Although I had given up on wrestling as a profession, I still had the whole "I need to maintain the center of attention with everyone around me" thing going on in my head.

Looking back on it now, I understand that it was a desperate cry for attention 
due to me processing everything going on around me pretty much on my own. Like I said, I'm not going to bore you with details, but I had friends who I felt had better existances, while not daring to mention the fact that I felt like I was going insane at such a young age.

Move forward a few years, and enter high school. I've moved from the Alternative age (taking a few tresured bands with me) into Nu-Metal. Linkin Park, Staind, Trick Turner (remember them?) and such were the soup de jour. I'm sure that the fact that I was a rather pissed off 16 year old didn't help, but then again, who wasn't? Also, this is when I start learning about the skeletons in the family closet: Alcoholism, mental dementia, and other fun unknown factors from my non-existant father are basically the sums of the Hicks-Wilson family tree, save for the family based farther up north, who actually managed to stay somewhat sane, partially thanks to the distance between the broken famly located here. But, dispite whatever I might be feeling, I've got appearances to maintain, and amazing friends
and a family that, although things have been rough, do care about my well-being enough to give me hell about the changes going on with me.  

That was my existance for the longest time. Fucking miserable in reguards to my internal mechanics, but I've got a nice little mask of humor and whit to get me through
my day long enough to lock myself in my room, and space the fuck out to (At this point in life) such life savers like Dream Theater, LiVE, Iron Maiden, and of course,Blind Guardian.

Now, most of the people who are going to end up reading this knew me after this
period. So:
Cliff's Notes 3: A couple failed suicide attempts (I never could bring myself to try 
wrist slitting, it seemed a little too much of a finite solution. Things like attempted hangings, and the indident where I killed half a bottle of Asprin, were at least gambles that left it up to someone to decide what happens to me), and dealing with the normal teenage identy paronia pretty much didn't help this whole legacy I had made for myself in reguards to my mental perception of grand suffering and agony. 

I never felt as ease with people, especially my own few friends who had enough shared 
comon ground to help me maintain some sence of sanity when I had to deal with the outside world. 
But, nevertheless, I kind of kept moving along, mainly because when you actually give a shit about life, you kind of have no other choice.

Eventually, I started unwinding mentally, people who I ran into and whatnot deemed me somewhat funny, if a bit odd, and the family situation has gotten a lot better in recent years. But I've always still harbored that little bit of history that's left my disposition bitter, lingering in the back of my head, but never making itself known in the presence of most people, because my burdens are mine to bear.

Which brings me to this past weekend (finally)
So, over the course of the past few days, I was blessed enough to spend it within the company of the friends that have stuck by me over the years/many months. These are people who have accepted me for who I am. And while they've never known my complete history (there are things that I woln't even mention here, or in the private company of the people I trust the hell out of) they've known my 
failings as a human well enough, and yet still accepted my friendship, 
and have treated me well enough over the time that I've spent with them to basically
allow me to fix most of the mental bullshit I had been carrying around for what felt like eons. These people are the most amazing and beautiful human beings a person
can ever come to know, and I basically owe them all for everything I have, and ever will accomplish in life.This isn't including the people who I've become friends with, but due to people becomming busy in life,  I just havn't had time to keep up with lately, but you're all responsible for pretty much saving my life.

And I thank you all from the bottom of my fucking heart.

There's a lot more I could go into, but I've all ready rambled way too long on here as it is. 

Cliff's Notes 4: If you're reading this, thanks. I more than kind of owe you my life, and you've made it so that I'm no longer a broken person. Thankie-Sai

So yeah, I'm 21. Big Fucking Whoop.

But it feels AMAZING!

Fair warning. The rest of the Progpower blog is put on hold untill I can actually remember everything that happened, aside from drinking massive ammounts of booze, and smokng illlegal substances with the guys from Cellador. I will get them up eventually though. Another warning, this blog is somewhat pointless, and I ramble for a bit.

So, last Sunday, David, Lacey, and myself made a treck to Columbus, my hometown, and David's dwell for around ten years. It's always fucking weird going home, and having to pass the neighborhood where I pretty much grew up black as a kid, but it was also awesome to chow down on free Chinese food via David's Uncle's "Manderin House" restaurant, as well as scoring Strapping Young Lad and Into Eternity albums that don't suck (Don't let the new album fool you, Into Eternity is a badass band.) David nabbed some Gamma Ray, and Lacey discovered Nightwish. Now, I'm just hoping to lure David to the dark side with the Iced Earth DVD. I don't want to go to hell alone.

For you zealous Christians (you know I don't mean you Lacey) that might stumble along this for whatever reason, that was a joke. I know I'll see you there. =D

Anyway, one of the greatest things about the trip was getting to revisit one of the greatest friends a human being could claim, Robert. When both of your parents are preggers together, and one of you has video of the other in a golf hat, a polo shirt, and shorts, you can pretty claim this person as a friend for life. It felt amazing to reconnect with a part of my past that's...well..pure. No bad memories of being raised by drinkers, no isolation, and no feeling weird for looking at the outside world with a perception that you just might make it out of your dwelling alive.

Maybe it's just me living in this Godforfuckingsaken town for this long, seeing as how Columbus' ghetto population is actually a grouping of intelligent African-Americans who are clustered together out of an oppressive enviroment's wanting them out of the way, as opposed to Albany's clusterfuck of a black population. Also, from what I saw when we were at Peachtree, there aren't nearly as many cocksuking scene kids in Columbus.

I can't quite figure out if I've developed the complex the elderly seem to possess which makes you long for the days of better, or if it's actually that bad here, beyond the point of even burning this town down.

To hell with this place, and all of it's backstabbing, ignorant, and just fucking stupid people. Aside from a few of you, this place just isn't worth saving anymore.

God, I need to go back home....and soon.



lml  Fuck this place. Columbus Awaits.

So yeah. Time to get off my ass, and attempt to get down everything that happened during the fest. I've got a fresh pack of smokes, so this shouldn't be too difficult.

The day started with me completely G.I'ing the shit out of my room. After wading through the sea of shitty albums (Sonata Artica's Unia, for example..thank God that I burned it before I bought it), old fast food paper products, and an ungodly ammount of the little plastic bags that your weed comes in, I nabbed a shower, and prepaired for the long bus ride ahead by destroying some Krystal's like only a starving fat man can. Got to the bus station, checked my bag in, and waited for the bus to get there.

While I was smoking the last cig for the net two hours, I spied an extremely drunk black dude, dressed in formal jacket and tie, but with everything tucked out, sumbling about to whatever bullshit was blairing from his headphones. I though "Watch this guy sit down behind me, and ruin the ride for me." He was obivously extremely drunk, and while I don't claim to be a racist, I diddn't want to deal with the one random drunk nigga on the bus.

He sat behind me, but at least he was quite entertaining.

The ride itself was uneventfull, save for talking to a guy at one of the stops about how he was traveling to LA from Albany:

"I'm been gone from home for three years. I basically thought I could find what I need in Albany. But at least you've got some beautiful women here"
"Yeah. Too bad most of them here are either whores, or fucking stupid"
"Well, they've got their uses, especially the fucking stupid whores"
The whole conversation started with him asking me for a smoke, and we conversed about me going to ProgPower. He also mentioned being a big alternative fan, which led to me name dropping bands that he should look up when he got home. After we got back on, I floated him a pack of Smooths "for the long ride home" he had over the next few days.

This guy was also black, so if you STILL want to call me a racist prick, you're fucking retarded.

Stopped off about an hour from Atlanta at a gas station/truck stop, and did some shopping. As we were smoking, the drunk guy started talking about how you have to get them by the carton, or whatever. I also talked to a guy who had brought only his Xbox 360 and a copy of Halo 3 about FPS'es and whatnot. Then we hit the road, with Vanden Plas' "Christ-O" album filling the gap between my ears.

After getting off in Atlanta (sounds dirty dosn't it?), I had the pleasure of riding the MARTA train system, which is like any modern underground train system, except that it's extremely simple, with two routs and four train lines that cross at Five Points. After watching the cart in front of me bob and weave like it was shaking like a modern day Ali, I made my way off the train to our hotel. The only problem was, I didn't have my roommate's number. So after finding the public computer near the breakfast room, I tried reaching Paul Cashman, or Pellaz of you browse the PPUSA forum at all, but all I got was a busy signal. This was after going to the closer hotel from the train, and realising that I had forgotten the number, all whist the the internet was down.

So, my fat, and extremely sweaty ass was dragging this fifty pound suitcase, and the Sonic daypack around, when I figured "Fuck it, get something to eat", which prompted a visit to the local sports bar and grill, which was also the setting for the now infamious "Beaner Weed" incident. I tried Paul again, and when the call connected, was polietly informed that he had other calls comming in. Paul was also one of the sponsers this year, and also was helping the sound guy for karokie night...so needless to say, he was pretty busy.

So, after chowing down on some amazing carmalized onions, mushrooms, and steak, I walked down to the Grenada again, with the internet still dead, and figuered I'd find a phone to call home on real quick, then made my way back to the hotel. Then I spied a familiar crop of slightly balding hair, and knew that I had found the now "sacred roommate who has somewhere for this out of shape metal fan to stash his crap", Paul.

After conversing, and discussing plans for the evening, we stashed my shit, and shot the breese about a bunch of crap that I've forgotten about now. I do remember that Paul is fucking awesome, is the WREKage DJ for their weekly metal broadcast, and does some form of work for the U.S. Government. I should also mention that we all crashed at his place the first night of the fest, but more on that later.

So, fast forward a few hours later, and we're at the Jon Olivia accoustic set. Setlist is as follows. And yes, those are Beatles' covers in his set:

The Show Must Go On (Three Dog night)
Out on the Streets (original pre-recorded version)
Fly Away
Only You
Heal My Soul
Little too Far
Eleanor Rigby
Imagine
Jesus Saves (original pre-recorded version)
In My Life
I'm So Tired
All that I Bleed/Strawberry Fields
Surrender
Golden Slumbers
If I Go Away
Pray for You Now
Sleep (Zak on vocals)
Alone You Breath (Zak on vocals)
Lady in Disquise (first time ever performed)
Souls (new song)
Believe

I can honestly say as a Savatage fan that I was fully impressed with the set. Say what you want about Olivia's voice or weight in recent years, but untill you endure everything that this man has, and still continue as an artist, shut your fucking mouth. There's really not much I can say about the set that I can explain without you knowing Jon's materal.......wait, there was one thing.

My PPUSA pal Ian (or Biffle, as the forum names go) was completely fucking trashed before the show, and was going crazy the entire time Jon was playing. Rather than complain, Jon actually was elated that the kid was that excited, and declaired that he was smoking a joint with him later. This eventually turned into him pulling Ian on stage to offer him drugs (jokingly), and to him playing Sabbath Bloddy Sabbath when Ian kept requesting songs that Jon just couldn't play.

"If Ozzy saw me playing this song on an accoustic, with fucking ballons on stage, he's probably fucking lynch me."

I should also mention that Jon's sence of humor is one of the greatest things I've seen in an artist of his ability. Talking about being too stoned to remember how to play certain songs nowadays, European bathtubs, and the other things discussed had me rolling around in the venue. Him also asking Ian "Can you please shut the fuck up for three minutes and twelve seconds" when he debuted "Souls" from the upcomming album was priceless. Zac Stevens was also inattendance, and they pretty much squashed the rumors that they hate each other.

I also got to meet Ripper, the other Justin that we were rooming with, and Justin's friend, who's name I forgot. I also met a SHITLOAD of people from the forum, who I'm not even going to attempt to describe here. Next came karokie.
Just to get it out of the way....
Karaoke
Jon- You Shook Me All Night Long, War Pigs
Zak- Rock and Roll Fantasy

Videos can be found here:
http://youtube.com/watch?v=sQpOkCtcKMc

I should also mention that Nightwish, Emperor, Amon Amarth, and a shitload of other songs were performed at karokie night, which took place after Jon's set. I personally went on stage to preform "Metal Brothers" by ManOWar with Nathan (Swordlord), which was fucking great. Nathan told me at least five times during the fest "I had so much fun on Wednesday thanks to you man", which was awesome. Here's the video:



So, fast forward to later on, and Shane, who books the Showcase, got word that Vanden Plas was detained in Detriot for six hours, and then sent home after not having work visas for the fest. Needless to say, I was extremely pissed.

After karokie ended, we went to Paul's car, got food, and all made our way to his place. Paul has a really nice place, filled with all kinds of awesome shit in reguards to music, Dragon*Con, and other nerdy endevers. We all hung out, and had the pleasure of meeting the zombie cat.

Paul has this extremely affectionate cat that for some reason, had clawed at it's neck and chest untill it's extremely bloody and scared, with fresh wounds on it's chest and neck.
"That thing looks like half of the kids back home"

So, we then all setteled in, and got sleep. Woke up the next day, played the Amon Amarth DVD, while everyone showered and whatnot, and were on our way.

The Showcase awaited....

So, I'm leaving for ProgPower in the next few hours, and wanted to take a second to thank everyone who's gotten me through what has been an insane year, and up to this point.

So...um...thanks. =D

See you fuckers when I get back, hopefully changed for the better (again)

In one month, it'll be exactly one year since Jon Nodtveidt left us.


His presence is greatly missed, for he'll never be replaced.
"Where Dead Angles Lie"



In the dawn an angel was dancing
sorrounded by an aura of light
But in the shadows something was watching
and with patience awaiting the night
Angel whispers: "Mournful night, attractive night,
your dark beauty obsesses me"
An angel bewitched by the shadows
Seduced by the whispering lies

[Chorus:]
A spell was cast an the sky turned red
The angel's heart froze to ice
The blackness that falls is coming to stay
Under the snow lies angels so cold

Dusk has passed and a cold morning breeze,
is sweeping all over the plain,
On the ground lies an angel with skin so pale,
On her face an image of pain,
Snow is now falling to the frozen ground,
The angel is covered by white,
Frost is spreading across the plain,
to welcome the eternal night.

The dress is white with crystals of ice
and frozen roses so red
Roses of blood from an innocent soul
On the plain lies an angel dead

[Chorus:]
A spell was cast an the sky turned red
The angel's heart froze to ice
In the gloomy sky black clouds were gathering
The silence was broken by cries
A spell was cast an the sky turned red
The angel's heart froze to ice
In the gloomy sky - The silence where dead angels lie

Touch the snow...Caress the lifeless sculptures
Die!!!

[Chorus:]
The blackness that falls is coming to stay,
Under the snow lies angels so cold,
Yet with each crystal of frost that is falling,
another story is told,
A spell was cast an the sky turned red,
The angel's heart froze to ice,
In the gloomy sky - The silence where dead angels lie.