Deeply flawed, but fundamentally decent, I approach life with an irreverent attitude toward certain modern social conventions, while harboring a profound nostalgia for bygone traditions of honor and decency. We each have our own code, and I succeed and fail by mine.
The werewolf has been eagerly awaiting the release of HBO's latest foray into incredible television programming via A Game of Thrones. The first book of George R. R. Martin's epic fantasy series, A Song of Ice and Fire, seems to be getting the treatment and attention it deserves to be translated onto the television screen.
For those of you who have no idea about what I am writing, take a second and consider this. If you enjoy Tolkien, try mixing in a few measures of wild sex, brutal violence, dynastic struggle, and unpredictable Machiavellian political scheming into the fray, and one begins to touch on the brilliance that is George R. R. Martin. The world Martin imagined is loosely inspired by Ivanhoe and the events surrounding the War of the Roses in late medieval England. One easily gets sucked into the details of a world where the heroes are naive, honor and virtue are more devastating than a rancid STD, grudges last generations, some villains merit redemption, while others shock you with inhuman levels of treachery, bastards beget bastards, and death is the most likely outcome from even the most casual or celebratory of occasions. There are no white wizards or hobbits to save the day, but there is a world that drives one's imagination to its limits. If HBO's previous series such as The Sopranos, Rome, True Blood, and Boardwalk Empire are any indication of what to expect, then audiences are in for a thrilling treat.
Being a stalwart fan of the books, I am both awaiting to embrace this series with alacrity and am slightly apprehensive. Martin does such a brilliant job of creating the foundations of world rich in its own history, that I have woven a detailed tapestry in my mind of what I think the characters and realm look, smell, and sound like. Peoples, architecture, traditions, language, mannerisms, style, and topography are all touched on in just the right ways to provoke an indelible impression. The images I have emblazoned into my imagination with the wondrous world I perceive each time I turn the pages of one his books is truly a literary gift. The tension of what I perceive and how the world will be rendered via HBO's creative interpretation is an interesting one that I am unaccustomed to experiencing. However, it does nothing to dampen my excitement about the pending release of the series.
This past weekend, I joined two friends on a boondoggle to Memphis. Although inspired by nothing more than the urge for a random break in the routine, I managed to lose my dignity, among other things, and broke a few personal rules, but otherwise, I had a flippin' blast. Funny how that happens. Memphis, uniquely manages to suck and possess a relaxed charm about it. Anyhow, I randomly came across this song from The Temper Trap while prowling the streets of Memphis. As much as I hate to admit it, it is kind of catchy and may have some staying power.
I've been in an especially retro state of mind these past few weeks. I have deluged with great local music since I moved back to Nashville, however, my roommate has a Crosley Stack-o-matic record player, along with kicking collection of vinyl. Our move-in was defined by blasting The Police, Blondie, and Duran Duran ad naseum. I've also been nostalgic for the way music was. This is just a rocking example of the innovative sounds that distinguishes Echo and The Bunnymen from the herd. Not to hate on Coldplay, but they ain't got nothing on these guys. Enjoy!
Contrary to some opinion, the werewolf isn't dead, he's just been dormant. This blog hasn't been struck by silver bullet yet. Life comes at you fast sometimes. The past several weeks have been operating at Formula One speeds. Now life is more normal. It feels like I am driving on the 405 dodging uninsured Mexicans and distracted mothers in their bagged up SUVs.
I have been a bad blogger. It makes feel like a deadbeat dad who skips his child support payments. Not really.
Things have settled somewhat in Nashville, I finally have a stable internet connect at my casa, along with a washer-dryer. Being sans washer-dryer was more trying than I ever reckoned it would be. Sometimes the oddest conveniences make all of the difference.
Anyhow, I've missed a few full moons, but this werewolf is back and on the prowl. Aaaahhhh Wooooo!!!