freefisheater

A GOLD Dragon Lies Beneath!

I took the Inner Dragon online quiz and found out I am a Gold Dragon on the inside. My Inner Dragon is the most honorable of all. Golds are the third rarest of all the dragons (after Platinum and Chromatic dragons) and have a station in society that reflects their rarity. I am what one might call a Draconic Knight. Golds live by a strict code of chivalry and commitment. Remember Draco? Yep, Gold Dragon. My appearance is fearsome and all-mighty but I'd never stoop so low as to bring any harm to a human. I'm one of only two dragon types that are aligned "Lawful Good" and demonstrate great magical proficiency. My piety, beauty, wisdom, and inner strengrth are absolutely without parallel.



Of course, being a Gold Dragon isn't all high ethics and codes. I like to fly around scaring things, advise humans in their affairs, and shapeshift. Strike that, I LOVE to shapeshift. And I'm great at it. In fact, who's to say I'm not really a Gold Dragon after all? My favorable attributes are honor, truth, kindness, gold, wisdom, bravery, and trustworthiness. If anyone threatens or tries to kill me, I could strike back with my breath weapon - Fire. But then, no one's tried anything that stupid in the last couple thousand years. After all, I'm about 54 feet long.



Everything about me is gold. I like gold.

"The gold... it's in the..."

I'm in a bus that's either moving forwards so fast (frighteningly so) that it's moving backwards... or the other way around. In either case, it's an eight-hour trip in destiny that I am still somewhat reluctant in taking. The prospects waiting at either end in time are rather off-putting. But this is a call I've got to answer for something to happen. Thinking of a fatal accident waiting to become a catalyst for much greater things.

Or am I reading too much into the black card?

One more thing. This trip is wearing me down much worse than I would have expected. I'm so tired, I can't even yawn properly. I open my mouth for sustenance, and the tears fall heavily - as expected - but I am deprived six hours in a row.

I'm not getting enough air.

Sea breezes are liars. They promise vast, unending expanses of dreams within your fingertips. Within reach.

What they don't tell you is, you have to drown.

Entertainment has gripped tonight. Fall in the third by technicality. Disappointment inside but ecstasy on the surface. Lies and set-ups. But the end justified the means, however fair on the surface. Mm.

Sometimes I feel like I've been tied to the whipping post.

Good lord, I feel like I'm dying.

Falling, dolphins bleed their tears to the uncaring skies.

If they cared, we would not be dead.

And wet.

And once again, my thoughts return to idle days under the moon alone in the company of my bubbles.

The existence of my meaningfull ego rests on a quarter-inch square patch of skin upon my body. It never rests and bleeds my interiors on a daily basis. But it must be put to the squeeze before my chalky truths are poured forth without grace or shame. And painfully so.

The cost of the pizza is the amount of even-numbered second-stage processed toppings on the crust under the second layer of cheese multiplied by the diameter of the pizza and divided by the number of slices times pi.

Screaming from the top of your lungs from the minarets in your mind. Desperation clings to you until you feel it under your skin.

That's when you're most convinced of your fears and wants.

Ingratiate yourself, scum!

Sign my name on my knee. It's going to be a long night.

I wonder why we (as a race of homo sapiens sapiens) haven't evolved anything wonderfully drastic over the last few thousands of years. Like claws or wings or pretty sinful things? I'm sick of this body. It's so... well, it looks like the things I see in textbooks. With all the clear plastic overlays. And I realize that almost EVERYONE is like this. There's no challenge, no surprise. No giddy rush for discovery. empty.

I feel empty.

And alone.

And, unfortunately, the same.

Stupid stupid. Sea of green on an ocean breeze. Coral caves are labyrinthine.

I want to fly on my echoes for all eternity! FLY!

Encoding, sometimes it makes your spleen fall asleep. Lucky.

There isn't enough bourbon in the world to swim in for a week, you know? YOU KNOW? And that... makes me thirsty. Damn. Maybe we should all just relax and let the vibe flow through. And not pretend to be who we aren't. Especially not rock stars. I will never grow a fucking goatee. And all my clothes will fit. WILL.

Bartender. Come to me in a haze. Give me salvation. Just give me the goddamned drink.

Strangely, I feel fine. Do yaks migrate? I've been asking this all day and I still don't have an answer.

As expected, there are bubbles floating around in my head again. They are many colors today - except green, for some reason. They pulse and are warm. I move in close and they are sound. As I press my finger to one my mind is filled with dissonance. But it's music nonetheless. Pop. Pop. Pop.

It's 11:13 now and the rain is pissing me off. I am at the studio and have been here for quite a while now. The power went out all over Manila at nine-quarter. And the thunder is louder than a monkeys in heat. But not in that way. Nothing gets to me more than having beautiful art you're in love with go to so much waste.

I arrived here at around three this afternoon and almost immediately began to work. I wanted to start on "Lipad" and wrote some lines for it on the spot. I'm pretty happy with it, though I hope I don't get buried in the mix. We finished layering, EQ, saving and bouncing the tracks for it before we begin work on the second song for the night - "Cruisin'" It was seven thirty when we decided to take an hour break for the computer to automate the EQ and bounce everything so we went out to talk a bit around the conference area. I headed back into the studio at around eight thirty to try to come up with a muted guitar line for the song. After everything, we started recording at nine o' five. For ten minutes I had accomplished six tracks of textural layers - all "live" - and then the damned power went the fuck out. I feel so bad, now, as I really loved what I was coming up with for that song. I had been struggling for some fresh and original supporting fills since I first heard the song - abandoning at least two dozen ideas with four different instruments. And I finally thought I had found it tonight. I hate it when that happens. (The "term paper" phenomenon - you're on a roll when the power goes out before you can save any of it.)

We decide to move out to the conference area after the power goes out. And it's really... cold out here. The rain is so hard that the floor near the windows is drenched in cold rainwater. After moving the table and shutting all the windows we take our seats to eat, drink, smoke and talk. We finish off the pizza and garlic bread left over from our six o' clock dinner washed down with Pepsi and 7-Up from the same pensive meal. We can't find any candles to lift the darkness brought by this cold. Not even the aromatherapy ones Jen brought in for us last week. My spine is chilling. Our faces are lit up only by the cigarette embers and the ideas and conversation flying around the room. Every sentence lingering in the air punctuated by annoyingly loud claps of thunder.

I'm thankful for this breather. It's been quite a while since I've actually been able to sit down with the guys and just talk. The last time we did something like this was when I just joined the band - nearly half a year ago. And this is the first time we've all been completely together. I was apprehensive, at first, with all the waves of anxiety appreciably incurred by the generation gap - I'm the youngest in the room by a good eight years. Surprisingly, though, there is no gap. We talk about music. We talk about art. We talk about art in music. About film. About music in film. Theater. Music in theater. Alright, it's more than just that. FireWire, computer games, the World Cup, Busan, bar hopping, strippers - I'm surprisingly comfortable with all of these guys. There is no need to digress that "this happened before I was born" or "it's not in your generation" or anything like that. They're as in touch with my generation as I am with theirs. Especially the 70's - our consensus it's the last bastion of musical hope. We share a passion for classic rock - Jackson Browne, Pink Floyd, Janis Joplin, Yes, The Who, Joni Mitchell. The true poets. True musicians. And this passion spills into everything else we do. Work, hobbies, friends, family and life. I may be the only one without children, has never been married and doesn't hold a regular day job, but that never stops us from being friends.

...

I'm listening to Jackson Browne's Running On Empty on Jong's MD Walkman. Must find vinyl. By far the greatest studio production I've ever heard. Check out the track I'm listening to right now and you'll know what I mean - the song starts out recorded in the hotel room (Room 210, if you'd like to know) and then it segues into a live performance of the same song. And everything sounds exactly the same. The voice (although with some reverb for that live sound), the violin, the piano - all exactly the same. Perfectly balanced EQ and panning. The only differences are the audience cheers, the full band and orchestra plus the drum and backup vocals. Recorded on a performance of the song during a previous album tour. It's just got to be heard to be believed.

...

It's now midnight. The pizza is gone and the power is back up. We all plan to retire early tonight, though. I burn a copy of the album (my... ninth copy) with my new "Lipad" before I pack up my violin and guitar. I'm tired. I still regret the loss of those lines, but now I am not as angry as I was when the rain first took my music.

After all, the rain is always what births it in the first place.

00:08, and on my way home.

I'm a bit too tired to post anything significant today. Besides, all I did was write a song, go to the gym, have pizza and play FFX. Not a particularly exciting day.

Oh, except for seeing Kristen Kreuk on TV tonight. I'd give the episode 3.5 / 5 primarily because I hated the Scarecrow subplot and the really bad rock music soundtrack. I hope to god they eventually fix that up and get their money's worth from Mark Snow.