Bye Bye Blog?

Well, that's one reason. The other is that I'm trying to write autobiographically, which takes a lot of time--Geoffrey Crayon disappeared right around the time he was finishing his novel, then he had a kid, etc. Blogs aren't always high on the list.

But now that work is beginning again, I find myself in front of the computer lots more. So here's something small--for now.






I've always thought that liking heavy metal--more specifically progressive and symphonic metal (you know, the 'nice' stuff--not that Lamb of God, jingoistic fratboy bullshit--is a lot like collecting comic books or anything else geeky. You tend to know a whole lot about it that others don't, to like it a lot more (too much more) than others do, and to get offended when people don't understand it ("Evanescence is NOT part of this genre, man!" [Sound of geek spittle frothing]). And geeks always yearn to find the homeland of their true people, be it Darkon, Klingon, Comic-Con, or...small pockets of Europe!

Which is where these metal fests take place. Christ, in the U.S. we have, what, Ozzfest? Warped Tour? Fuck that. I want to go see this Medusa shit! I'll swim over there, dammit.

I bet these concerts are the only place in the world where you can't distinguish whose a girl-metal-singer fan and whose a Xena fan. Ah, Xena. If you were a singer in a band, the band would most definitely be a symphonic metal band with whispering banshees and full choir dressed in leather. The orchestra would be...well, like symphonic metal, it would probably be played by one guy on a synth, and he would be made fun of--until the Xena fangirls stared him down with their eye daggers. Because this shit is serious, man.