Thursday, February 12, 2009


One of the best death metal, hardcore, thrash and White Zombie style weirdness mash-ups that actually predated System of a Down and sounds on the verge of excellent horrorcore with a side dish of left field politics. Karyn Crisis (who looks like a female version of Shadows Falls' Brian Fair) looks like an avatar of Shiva with her four foot long dreadlocks. Uber-asteg!

Too bad they've split up.

Since there's no embedding on "Different Ways to Decay" (likely the best vid), enjoy it here:

"Bridging the gap between Faith no More, Killing Joke and Slayer, New York art-metal troupe Crisis is fronted by charismatic and eccentric vocalist Karyn Crisis, whose schizophrenic vocal stylings (including everything from melodic singing to death-grunts to impulsive squeaks and squawks) simply defied description. Formed in the early 90's, Crisis was also a multi-cultural stew, throwing Pakistani guitarist Afzaal Nasiruddeen, Taiwanese bassist Gia Chuan Wang and American drummer Fred Waring into a musical melting pot of frightening proportions."

Tuesday, February 10, 2009


This is my bedside at night since I started living alone (or almost alone) at a renovated pad. When you step out the gate a major road greets you with all the traffic both human and vehicular something like that entails. The noise and the hum of the city is just so close that it took some getting used to the first few months I started sleeping there.

The trouble with sleep eventually went away but not the sense of danger. Hence, sleeping with a .45 near at hand with my nighttime reading and a container of water. Especially since, recently, a roving band of ghetto kids have been terrorizing the neighborhood, trying to break into houses for general theft, mischief and anarchy. When I say kids I mean mostly young boys aged nine through twelve.

The police (who are stationed at the intersection of our street and another major thoroughfare, for the frequent trouble and crimes in the area, I suppose) have probably broken up fights and/or picked up somebody four times in the past two months for stuff related to these gang kids. The ones, I've noticed, at the least.

"Parang City of God!" exclaims my lawyer, the time she and her husband drove me home, spotting a congregation gathered round a police car several houses down.

While I'm no great advocate of firearms I feel better with the darned thing beside vulnerable, sleeping me. Like the redneck says: "It's better to have it and not need it, than to need it and not have it." Dreams of killer children leaning over me while am tied up and gagged, notwithstanding.

While the gun IS licensed, it ain't mine. Which will explain its rusted condition and lack of general upkeep Also, having hollow-point bullets as ammo increases one's sense of security exponentially (look up any number of military/cop movies/TV shows to see the effects of hollow-points on flesh). The fact that there are also several airsoft guns in the pad that look just like the real ones (and are heavier, in some cases) is also a great thing.

So am (we are) equally prepared for a home invasion or a plague of zombies. The undead will find us ready to lock and load -- say hello to our little friends!

Still, the gun has caused some consternation with my girlfriend when, coming into the room, as quietly as she could one night, caused me to wake up and instantly think of a home invasion. You take a woman seriously when she tells you not to point the gun at her again or booty will forever be revoked. Okay. Sorry. Putting the gun away now. When I sleep alone though I prep the gun after brushing and before fluffing my pillows. The gun stays because the kids are NOT alright. I resist giving it a name, though.

Oh, and if you haven't watched the Brazilian film City of God, I suggest you check it out. It is, hands down next to Trainspotting, the shit.

~ 30