Skillet on a Wednesday

   It was a dark November Wednesday evening and I went to see Skillet and Red Sun Rising. I drank mediocre generic type beer and enjoyed some good music from where I stood at the back of the room. While Red Sun Rising were playing on stage I found myself surrounded by a group of young men I found eerily familiar. I suspiciously eyed them through the whole show. They turned out to be the members of Avatar.

So that happened.

   Then Skillet came on. Don't get me wrong, each to their own, but I've always found myself ridiculously uncomfortable around openly religious people. So when lead vocalist John Cooper started talking about his "hero, Jesus Christ" I clutched my beer glass tightly and made an effort not to roll my eyes too hard or groan too loudly. Luckily for my awkward ass, Jesus was never included again.

It was a good night.

Pussies are invincible

Thank you Hal Sparks for that analogy. Priceless.

Weird stuff and music

It just hit me.
I'm going to see Russel Howard next summer.
Like, WOAH. It's going to be hilarious.
Tomorrow I'm off to see American band Skillet at a local club. Where the singer from one of my favourite bands from my teenage rage days DJ from time to time. He sometimes shops at the store where I work.
Life is weird.

I love Gothenburg.

The Hutt Recommends: The Brothers Cabal

The Brothers Cabal by Jonathan L. Howard.

Remember when I rather bluntly hinted that this book would hit the Swedish market? I got it for Christmas last year and devoured it rapidly shortly after.

   Last time we got to read about Johannes and Horst one brother was slipping into unconsciousness and certain death by garden demon, and the other was, quite frankly, in a pile of ashes.
   What I really missed after moving on to the second and third parts of this series, and Horst's untimely demise, was the kind of quick-witted banter that passed between the two brothers. Nothing quite compares to brotherly love as shown through sarcastic insults.
   Here, I finally get my wish.

   In a satanic ritual, Horst Cabal is risen from the dead. Well, he's still a vampire so... still dead. But at least not in ashes. Anyway! Horst lives! (Kind of.) Resurrected (-ish) by an occult conspiracy he is to lead an army of the undead in the forthcoming war to create a land of horrors - a nation of supernatural beings. The more Horst is told of this nefarious plan the less enthused he is by the idea of it all. Not even the fact that he would actually be the ruler of the vampiric race of this new nation of supernaturals can rouse what little fighting spirit he ever had. He just wants his old way of life back - a little recreational drinking, respectfully seducing women into romantic yet strangely morally appropriate encounters. It doesn't take a genius to see that it would be impossible for him to fight the whole cult on his own though. He needs help. Perhaps the kind of help you can expect from a heavily armed sarcastic necromancer with a searing hatred for evil wizards with unfashionable trousers...
   Johannes.

   Demons from alternate dimensions. Soup. Rebels. Airplanes. The moans of the undead. Tentacles.
   No zebras this time. But there is a werebadger.

   I know some people have made this book out to be the weakest of the series because of the lack of Johannes in the first half of the story, but since I adore Horst I was entirely blind to the problem. Having felt for the entirety of the third book that Johannes had lost sight of the core of his initial life mission, the return of Horst to remind Johannes of his past promises gave me new hope to see progress. Well. I didn't quite recieve all that but there'll be more books. (The Fall of the House of Cabal just came out. A title not at all ominous. No, not at all. I need it.)
   I prefer this book over both the second and third parts of the series but the previous parts are vital to follow along. It's just so much more entertaining to shove someone so blantantly different from Johannes into the spotlight and make them cooperate. Force them to interact and fight for a common goal.
   Now shoo, go read it.

The process: chestpiece

My doodle - tattoo artist's sketch - end result.

Autumn darkness sucks

Today's mood is a great resounding "MEH". It was dark when I staggered half asleep off to work this morning and it was equally dark as I left... this time of year is no fun at all.

Old man Logan

DEAR FUCKING GOD I'M LOOKING FORWARD TO THIS

The Hutt Recommends: The Name of the Wind

The Name of the Wind by Patrick Rothfuss.

First of The Kingkiller Chronicles.

   The road of life has been long, winding and most arduous for Kvothe – adventurer, famous musician, arcanist and living legend - now living out his life quietly and as anonymously as possible as an innkeeper in a rural town. He's been across the world and seen many things, been hunted by demons, studied the arts of magic and swordsmanship, spent time with the fae and is even rumoured to have killed a king...

So when Chronicler is attacked by demons on the road and Kvothe saves him (which also leads to Chronicler realising just who his saviour is) he offers to put Kvothe's story on record as thanks. After some consideration, Kvothe agrees and with that our story begins.

   I really enjoyed this novel. It's a story within a story within a story, because while we're listening to a life as told by the old Kvothe, young Kvothe is chasing a completely different story - the layering is excellent. Sure, we might have heard the story before; brilliant young man becomes hero, but it's still a welcomed story and Rothfuss actually does something quite new and exciting with it despite the predictability that experienced fantasy readers might feel. It leaves you wanting for the next part of the story.

My big weakness nowadays, especially with fantasy and scifi fiction, is finding the major female characters and analyzing them to bits. In this case we have in our main girl a variation of Sexy Lamp with Manic Pixie Dream Girl syndrome. Lets be frank; I hated her. The story could have gone on without her and been better off for it. I know Kvothe would be better off without her, that's for sure.

   The novel's on the heavier side with 700+ pages so if you're not in to  that you can download it and instead listen to 40+ hours of Kvothe's adventures. In either case, I recommend it.

   With the immense success of Game of Thrones I'm very surprised that the rumours from several years ago that Kingkiller Chronicles were going to be adapted into a tv series haven't given results yet. I guess we'll just have to give them a few more years...

...just like we seem to have to give Rothfuss a few more years for the continuation of the Kingkiller Chronicles.

Feathers and bones

I've got a new tattoo!
   "Again?" I hear you mutter, and yes, again. I finally got around to putting a chestpiece on this delectable bod. Ever since I began wanting tattoos I've been hesitant about chestpieces in particular for a myriad of reasons including but not limited to that they're not as easy to hide (something I've always been very specific about wanting to be able to do) and were rumoured to hurt like a motherfucker to get done, more so than the tattoos I wanted on my legs. Put on a shirt with the least bit of a lower neckline and the ink is visible, but even I had to admit they look fantastic when well made. So when I found out one of my favourite artists on DeviantArt was also a tattoo artist I felt like it was meant to be. I made a sketch, booked a time, booked a flight to where I could find her studio (yeah, you guessed it - Warsaw) et voilà! Just about 4,5 hours under the needle and done.
It's healing up nicely now.
   And the rumours about the pain were absolutely 100% true. Hoooooly hell, did it hurt.

   Just for fun I took a stroll around the corner to Instagram Land and checked out whether or not the tattoo artist had put up any pictures of my tattoo there. It's not like she asked me if she could do it or alerted me to it, which I would have appreciated by the way since it happens to be my chest, but she's the artist so I guess it's still fair. And indeed there it was with plenty of lovely comments to go with it.
There was also a picture of her in a bastardised Native American style war bonnet. Suddenly the bit about her putting up pictures of my chestpiece without telling me didn't seem all that bad. She describes her selfie as a tribute to a beautiful headdress, knowing full well she's going to have a shit storm in the comments section about cultural appropriation, but... people have been murdered for wearing war bonnets (the real thing, not her cheap Indonesian faux crap). Millions and millions of people were murdered, raped and displaced in North America, and continue to be treated terribly today. Realising just how ignorant and disrespectful she is of Native American history kind of hurt a little because I admired her work. What makes it worse is that even after being told repeatedly by actual Native Americans about how and why it's wrong of her to use that war bonnet she admits to no wrongdoing.

   I realise it doesn't take away from how awesome my tattoo is but it makes sure I will not be returning to her studio.
   On a positive note; I have a Harry Potter-themed tattoo.

------------
EDIT:
   SHE TOOK THE PICTURE DOWN! Not the ones of my tattoo but the one with her wearing the bastardised war bonnet. Last time I checked before she took it down the comment section was starting to get a little... infected.

Djinni

I must have started reading the Bartimaeus trilogy around the age of seventeen. I was in the middle of my moody hormonal teenage years and fled to the fantasy genre for comfort. And found Bartimaeus. Equal parts sarcasm and vindictiveness*, Bartimaeus really spoke to me**. So much so I have all four books written*** about this little djinn****. They are described as children's books but I still think they have elements even adults can enjoy*****.

Obviously, I had to grab the opportunity to meet Jonathan Stroud as he visited Gothenburg last week and so I did. Such a wonderful man.

*both Bartimaeus and I

**well, not me personally

***Amulet of Samarkand, Golem's Eye, Ptolemy's Gate, Ring of Solomon

****Bartimaeus wouldn't agree on the "little"
*****and bring your enjoyment of footnotes to a whole new level

Happy Hobbit Day!

Today is September 22nd and that's the birthday of both Frodo and Bilbo Baggins!
So happy birthday to two of the most important hobbitses that ever walked outside of the Shire and a Happy Hobbit Day to all of you followers.

Credit to Kiptay.

A short word on running

See this happy jogger?

That is some pure bullshit right there. No one looks like that while running. OK, that might be an exaggeration for a bit of the good old comical effect but very few looks like that while running. It's a huge lie. If I see someone running for exercise they always have the same focused expression; a lot of concentration, a little bit of pain. 

I look more like this:

And then add a whole lot of anger. I also sound and feel like that. Every damned time. Yes, I've just started and yes, I know it'll get easier but no, I don't think I'll ever enjoy it. I just want to be able to sleep.

Bonus mantra on repeat in brain: "I fucking hate running. Endorphins are my friend. Why do I do this. I want to murder every motherfucker telling me how good this is for me. My lungs are on fire. Endorphins are my friend. Rage will get me up this hill. Fuck running. Can I die now. Just a little more. Endorphins are my friend.  I fucking hate this. How can people enjoy this. Everything hurts."

Happy B-Day to Me

I live alone so it's on me to make me those special meals that I know I enjoy. Like birthday  breakfast. This year I presented a tableau of freshly baked walnut scones with butter, silver shred and cheese. Some veggies with that. Big glass of orange juice. Big mug of coffee. Small bowl of muesli with soy yogurt, and blueberries I picked during my summer vacation up north. All the good stuff for this lil' ol' hobbit (though by hobbit standards I have a few years left until I come of age and officially become an adult). And the balloons of course. I need those balloons to wade through as I zombie-walk to the kitchen for my coffee. Balloons make everything nicer. Especially since I didn't get that much sleep last night because of nightmares. Nightmares really suck.

There be bugs on DA

Omigod, I sure am happy I don't use DeviantArt much these days because without their, now rather expensive, Core membership the whole site is so buggy it's basically inoperable.

EDIT:
And that's another thing! If you're a young struggling artist wanting to get your art out there and maybe even make some money off of it, how the hell are you expected to afford this Core membership? Are you to rely on the generosity of others to get Core? If so I'd recommend Patreon instead.

EDIT 2:
You don't even have to be a young struggling artist to not afford Core. And I'm still fuming about how they never announced the change in DeviantArt's membership protocols, while every other teeny-tiny update to the site is announced immediately. I'm not a struggling artist but before ($)Core I chose to be a paying member because it wasn't that much of an effort to support DeviantArt and its more active members.
Now, not so much.

Bye bye summer

Hello autumn.