Lord Veltha Vs THE SPACE CARNIES! (Preliminary Match)

It's that cosmic time in the universe when people go out in the blistering heat to eat food that is terrible for them and engage in activities that clearly served as the inspiration behind the SAW movies. Yes underlings, I'm referring of course to the Clark County Fair.

The fine individuals responsible for Scream at the Beach are slapping together a little shindig called "The Day The Fair Stood Still," which will hopefully not feature Keanu Reeves, but you never can tell what these people are thinking. This event was was discovered via Craigslist ad for aspiring alien invaders whilst on the look out for possible revenue acquiring activities to support my filthy habits. It requested that all interested parties sign up on their website for the meeting that would take place at Captain Henry's Pirate Store at the Lloyd Center Mall. It was this magical combination of aliens, pirates, gang violence and carnies that inspired me to recruit two of my closest comrades in arms to accompany me on this adventure.

The back room of the pirate store is made surprisingly dangerous by the presence of one of most ill-conceived tables ever devised by man. Most tables are built with what physicists often refer to as "legs," but the craftsmen responsible for this table decided to opt for the "cardboard on a tower of coffee cans" approach. This is the table that the kid who was only invited to your birthday party because your parents felt bad for him would sit, and naturally the table my allies and I chose to observe from.

Right off the bat they took our photographs for identification, as per state law requiring all carnies to file under the carny registration act put in place by Tony Stark for our own safety. It is then we sat at our table and watched the others enter. The group was of course made up entirely of volunteers. Some of these individuals had been going at this for four years, and I wondered how many of them were on social security. They were, without a doubt, carnies, with a few aspiring actors thrown into the mix. Our gracious host put on a laptop assisted show for us as an introduction that seemed oddly irrelevant and out of place. It was a scene straight from War of the Worlds (the radio show turned hilarious misunderstanding) with him interviewing his improvisational guests and adding pitch-shifting voice modulation to the microphone. I do not believe this was intended to set the mood for the rest of the day. I believe this was intended to get all of the awkward discomfort out of the way before we began discussing the matters at hand.

Once he began describing the haunted house/space ship/tunnel of darkness and tight spaces the afternoon grew more appealing. The haunted house will be set in "town square," where various activities will be available for fair-goers to get more acquainted with the culture of the newly arrived alien guests. These activities include computer graphic face changing to make people look more like traditional alien cliches, a theremin to learn alien music, and of course the annoying voice modulation device to learn alien language. The space ship will be billed as a friendly tour of an alien space ship, but keep in mind this party is being thrown by our good friends at Scream At The Beach, who have warned us newcomers that people occasionally show fear through their fists.

Each participant was given a list of role that needed to be filled, with key roles highlighted in red. These roles were necessary roles for the fun house, and monitoring the other activities. We were permitted the audition for any role we chose by following very vague guidelines up on stage. I had originally auditioned to be an MIB style security guard, but my interpretation of being possessed by cosmic forces garnered me a role inside the fun-house as an alien where I will be doing my darnedest to get people to relieve their bladders in fear for a $20 bonus. Given that I have landed one of the highlighted key roles I will already be receiving $20 a day for my dedication, but this will of course be going straight into the bellies and gas tanks of the henchmen I have enlisted to join me, so the only way to fund my diabolical schemes will be to cause urine to manifest in the pants of the 15,000 some odd people who will go through the haunted house.

Do the math with me: $20 X 15,000 pairs of piss-stained pants. If this plan doesn't reek of evil (and... well... excrement...) then I don't know what does.

So, if you have waaaaaaaaaaaay too much free time on your hands from August 6th to the 15th, particularly from 10am to 6pm, drink LOTS of water and come by the Clark County Fairgrounds. We'll be waiting.

Pathos and good will,

Lord Veltha

Lord Veltha VS Nostalgia

Updates, updates, updates.

I haven't been on Blogger for some time now. I could look up when my last post was, but by that time I'd lose focus and never find my way back to actually writing a new post.

The Astonishing Dude seems to have all but stopped. I seem to have caught the Suck-Virus (if that sounds disgusting, believe me, it is. I don't understand how so many people can live life without being awesome.) and have trouble with minor things such as dialing phones, sending emails, or making it to the library to check out books that I've had on hold until the hold expires (I did finally get one though! It's, uhh... "Stitches" by David Small, and frankly I'm not sure I'm ready to read it. I should probably take it back.) Hopefully I won't have The Suck for much longer, but it seems to be keeping me indoors a lot. Even when I am able to communicate with someone it's fine while it lasts, but immediately afterwords blah blah blah angst no need to get into that muck.

My mediocre career as a voice actor flickers on though. I've recently been cast in the role of Sandayu "The Old Guy" Asama in the Naruto The Abridged Series Movie. In a super roundabout way, as things tend to fall, I auditioned for minor roles in Sonic Abridged, a guy said NTAS was lookin' for someone, and lo and behold I got the part. I have yet to actually get in touch with Vegeta3986, but I must have patience (Not everyone is as burdened with having excessive quantities of free time as myself. Woe is me.) and in time I will be killed by a ninja train (Yes, the train itself is a ninja. It hurls more kunai then anyone else and kills the most people. It might not be the most stealthy assassin what with being a train and all, but hey... this is Naruto we're talking about. they don't actually place a heavy emphasis on stealth.)

I'm writing again. It's been a while. While this is wonderful news considering I'm at my most attuned with greatness when I'm clacking away at a keyboard telling stories that in all likelihood will never reach the eyes of readers, I'm not... actually... uh...

You see, the thing is... this thing I'm writing, while it's great I'm writing it... it's... uh... well, it's it's it's... fan-fiction.

You have to understand. I have horrible associations with fan-fiction on at least two counts. No.1 is quality. I realize that not everyone writes as terribly as the admittedly funny and equally grammatical-aneurysm inducing freakfest of "My Immortal" (of which I have only read about on TVtropes.org and decided I'm not in the right state of mind to read the actual... thing.) but I tend to associate fan-fiction with crap. I'm not saying anything I write is any better (I'm just gracious enough to hide it from anyone and everyone), and I'm sad to admit there are fan-produced works that are better than anything I do, I'm saying that this is my association.

No.2 is more personal. I have this overwhelming need to make something of myself and do things that I deem "Productive." I have no real direction in life, so I don't fully understand how I classify something as productive, but it seems to correspond to busy work I feel good doing. I have this grand scheme that some of my work falls into, but I know full well that this plot will never come to fruition. I'm just working for the sake of working and daydreaming that something good will come of it. With that said; working on an project comprised of unoriginal ideas that I cannot use to further my rhetorical goals seems like a waste of time. It does keep me writing though, and any time spent writing can't be considered a waste of time. It makes me happy. It gets my limited capacity for creativity flowing. It keeps my mind off of other issues. All is well.

Even my doodles are going the way of parody. I'm halfway through my series of AWESOME Luke doodles, depicting how A New Hope would be different if Luke Skywalker didn't suck. The best description I've heard was that this is what Star Wars would be like if Happy Noodle Boy were Luke, which brought me no end of amusement. I originally started doodling again as a way to express my neurotic thoughts, which I continue to do when I come across a thought I'm able to make fun of, but now it's mostly AWESOME Luke (and I do feel the need to capitalise awesome, which may be another neurotic thing.) The idea came about one day as I was walking about daydreaming about Sonic The Hedgehog, as usual, when I started casting Sonic characters as Star Wars roles. After about half an hour of debate I cast Sonic as Luke and laughed at the thought of Luke being awesome. Then the doodles began of AWESOME Luke, and soon after I caved in to the urge to actually write what I'd originally been daydreaming about.

So now everything I'm doing revolves around fandom and parody. My voice acting, writing, and doodles.

I have learned something about myself though. I've learned that nostalgia plays a key role in my life. I learned this while browsing Overclocked Remix. Most of the songs on my MP3 player are either punk covers of old songs, or video game OSTs and remixes. I only listen to songs I've heard before. I have trouble getting into new music. I don't listen to the radio, and when it's on I tend to tune it out. When friends on Facebook post videos of their favorite bands I listen, but I don't feel any connection. Even ripping CDs for Mom I occasionally say, "You know, the rhythm, the melody, everything here is something I would like... but I don't."

Video games are the same way. If I play a new game in a series it feels... wrong. I couldn't get into Sonic Advance, and even Sonic Rush (which is now one of my favorite games) felt odd at first because I'm so used to playing the Genesis titles over and over until I play them by heart the way someone sings a song by heart. When people sing do they remember the words? When I sing the words just flow out. Come the second or third verse I have to remember the first line, but then the rest pours out naturally and I'm not even sure i know what I'm singing. That's how I play video games, and Sonic especially. Ratchet & Clank Future: A Crack In Time came out recently. Now, when I got Tools of Destruction it had been a good few years since I played the previous games, and I'd only played through each of them once or twice. When CiT came out I decided to go through all of the games in order before I picked it up at the store. It'd been a long time since I played through the series, so I had nothing memorised, but when I saw things I recalled seeing them before, almost like deja vu. Once I started playing CiT things felt weird. There may be a few cosmetic differences, but every R&C game is pretty much the same. The thing that felt odd wasn't that the game was new, it was that I didn't remember it. I need things to be familiar. I don't respond well to change.

I might be getting a psychological evaluation soon. My therapist asked me last week if I'd ever had one. She felt terrible that she hadn't asked sooner. She also apologized a lot because she didn't want me to feel like there was something "wrong" with me. I know there's nothing "wrong," but I also know there's a whole lot keeping me from being "right," and I'd like to have a better understanding of what that is.

I played Commodore 64 last night for the first time in years. It felt great, even though I died without getting any farther in The Amazing Spider-Man than I have before (Drowning in dookie water.) Batman: The Caped Crusader is just as impossible as I remember, but a lot funnier ("You got the A Fried Egg.") I also suck at Kings of the Beach now, which was never the case before. My reaction time is completely shot. I'm thinking about hooking up my Genesis, even though most of the games I own I've been playing on PS2. The feel of a classic controller can't be emulated.

"If I'm going to be concious at ungodly hours, I may as well stream it."

I feel drunker than a wombat on a goat song could you pass the relish my grandma can't take much more or this is the end of the line Mr. Jones, Mr. Peanut, Mr. Rogers, Mr. T, Mr. Ed couldn't sing tenor to save his lives are one hundred coins each would you like a bag for that or would you like to wear it home Sargent Pepper's Lonely Hearts Club Band camp and brothel with peas and carrots mixed in a special cream cheese sauce.

Welcome one and all to the Scrap Brain Zone portion of our show where we're so REM sleep deprived we begin to emulate the effects of intoxication. Day one we're sluggish, 2nd day we're cranky, third day we zombie out, and on the 4th day we have violent mood swings. By the end of the fourth this is what happens. My pants are enormous could I borrow yours? Someday we'll laugh at the 101 uses for fish sticks all mattresses must go! This is what happens. The middle changes from time to time, but the end is always the same.

1. "I'll be okay."
2. "Calm down. There's nothing to worry about."
3. "Oh god I need to sleep tonight. I need to sleep. I can't do this again."
4. "My pancreas spoke to me though my hand and it's not pleased with the progress we're making on the waffles John Deer would eat our skin through a bucket sized spaghetti strainer on a Saturday night fever pitch!"

So much to do so much to do. Try to go with the flow. On bad days I stop and let it be bad. Cancel plans. Apologize the next day. Bad day bad day. Violence, rage and anger mustn't be seen mustn't be seen. What would the henchmen think? Don't sweat it champ it happens to the best of us from time to time just don't let the porcupines bear witness or it will come back to bite you in the checkbook. I proposed to a car after my girlfriend kicked me to the curb when I sang a love song on the way home, then Freddy Kruger gave me an indian burn in front of Santa Claus and made baby Jesus cry. Baby Jesus: from the company that brought you Tickle-Me-Judas and Bathtime Fun Moses! Can't keep a beat but still keep rockin'! Toilet seat allergies are worse in the autumn. So much to do. I keep trying. I mustn't give up. Move on and perservere through madness. Infinite improbability overload quick strangle the gopher before it makes off with my Cheetos.

How long can I go on like this? It won't shut off. So much to do so much to do busy busy busy. I don't know what I'm doing. I never know. I keep trying. All surpass me. Why do I fight? What am I good at? I can't do enough. It'll never be enough. My envy of others is my downfall. I feel shame for my insecurity. Garden biscuits for breakfast Tuesday though Saturday at Weasel Land Family Fun Park. Marmots get in free! How can what I do be enough? So many dreams. None can be achieved. Keep trying. Keep trying. Reach for the stars no matter how much your arm hurts when it cramps up from the irony. Sing me oh muse a tale of woe. Of dichord and chaos long long ago. There once was a man, a milliner of lies, who chuckled and chortled at everyone's guise. I cannot go on, but I know that I must. Come with me now or else fade into dust.

Don't raffle at the gun show sink like a ship in the sand drink and be merry don't let it eat you strive for your life and let manniquins weep.

Can I try to keep going? Don't know if I'll stop. I just want to live all of my lives and share them with the world. I know many good people that on one else does. I want to invite them to join in the fun. They will make people laugh and hopefully cry, and all mourn their loss when they finally die.

I'm still trying. Please help me succeed.

In hindsight, stream of conciousness writing may not be the best way to fall asleep. It used to work. If my mind wouldn't shut off I'd let it flow like this onto a piece of paper, and once all of the nonsense was absorbed I could put it aside and go to sleep. Now the flow doesn't always end. I stop when I get tired or bored, but my mind is still going. I usually post this crap where I collect my thoughts in order to figure out how my mind works, but for some reason this time around I was compelled to share it here. It's funny how it begins with babbling, then I go on to explain why I'm in my peculiar mental state, and somewhere in there near then end I begin to get whiny. I also talk about allowing bad days to be bad, but I never talk about allowing good days to be good, or explain what a bad day is and how allowing it to be bad is my way of making it good. That's probably because none of that makes sense and I hate explaining things. I don't like forcing myself to think. I've long lost the ability to do so, and now I must simply be. Stream of conciousness writing is the fullest extension of "simply being." It is not something that you do. It is something you allow yourself to do.

This is the most pathetic entry I've posted in quite some time. This is not what this blog is for. This blog is about sharing my triumphs.

Maybe tomorrow.

Accomplishment? Lord Veltha VS KOUG Radio

Today was completely and utterly overwhelming. I'm really not sure what happened. My head isn't throbbing as much since I took those pain killers. This is the result of me trying to push past my limits. I need to stick to merely reaching my limit for a while. This pushing crap is too much. This is like playing Final Fantasy IX and saying, "Okay, I'm gonna fight a Grand Dragon, and then go heal, and then fight another one, since I will be near death after fighting the first." And then getting attacked by a second dragon before you have time to recover... and then you die. It's pretty much like that. To offer a less geeky description, my day pretty much went as depicted in this doodle I was working on in order to focus and maintain a hold on my ever receding sanity.

Phase 1: I got to the WSU conference room plenty early, like an hour or so before the meeting started. I had stumbled around most of the morning: reading magazines, playing video games, etc. I was impatient to get there, so right after my early lunch I procured a shuttle and traversed the cosmos to reach the college. There I found a "Free Speech" board and was tempted to post a message of my own, but decided against it. Now I wish I had gone through with it. Perhaps next time.

Phase 2: After the meeting began and everyone was handed a type of application and "How To" checklist the station manager pulled out her digital recorder and interviewed everyone in the room, asking what they wanted to do for the station and what they wanted the station to do for them. I think I may have mentioned this somewhere else, but when I am in a new environment around new people I do not function properly. My mind cannot fully process everything that is going on. There is a stimulation overload. I simply freeze and observe the situation, determining whether I should run away or bust heads. Complete reptilian brain mode. As has been described in many a scholarly journal: reptiles suck at interviews. It was amazing. It sounded like everyone was reading from a script. Everyone knew exactly what they wanted. I began asking myself why I was there and by the time the microphone came before my face I had completely forgotten about my plans for a radio theater production. I managed to mention something about global domination, and that was that.

Phase 3. During most of the discussion I pretty much zoned out. I tried to pay attention, but most of it consisted of things I really could not follow. I have no idea how a radio station is run, so I suppose it was okay that I had no input. I was able to talk to a man sitting next to me who was also interested in having a radio drama on the station. He mentioned some kind of theater thing... I can't remember what it was... some kind of... reading theater. It's pretty much a live radio show, with no recording. It sounded interesting. I may have to attend and observe as I did with open mic poetry night. I followed along as best I could, but as I said, I had no input.

Phase 4. It was at this point where things made a turn for the worse. After sitting like a deer in headlights for a couple hours my emotions were running high. I wasn't really doing anything, and yet I was having lots of trouble with not screaming. Those who required training were asked to head to the station. I am not a student at WSU, and am not familiar with the campus. I followed some people who I thought were heading in that direction, but were instead going to the student commons. I tried to wait for someone to show me where to go, but after a few minutes I was unable to remain in the building. I scurried off to a bench by the water and engaged in a very un-overlordly display of emotions. I formed a plan in my head regarding locating the station and decided to wait until I calmed down to begin my investigations. The girl I had been waiting for then found me, concerned that I had wandered off, as I am prone to doing, and then lead me to the station. She kept me distracted and focused, but then she, and the station manager, began giving me tips on overcoming nervousness.

I did like the the expression the manager used; something along the line of, "Nervousness is just morbid excitement." but it's funny how someone trying to be helpful can also be insulting though. It is strange how angry I get when people try to help me cope with my anxiety. I feel misunderstood, like they really don't know what's going on with me. It's just something to be observant of. I'm trying to pay attention to what things affect me in what ways and how (That makes sense, right?) There was nothing to be offended about, and yet I was. It's just odd. It's like they were treating it like it wasn't a big deal. But then, why is it I make such a big deal about my anxiety? I thought about this more later. "I am not under attack. My life is not being threatened. Yet I am completely and utterly terrified."

The training was simple enough, though I can't remember how to run the Simian. Everything else I'm pretty sure I remember, but I can't remember how to operate the computer where all the music and play lists are stored. That's kind of a big deal in radio. It was then the manager remembered some kind of appointment she had and left the girl and I to keep things going in her absence.

Phase 5. I should never under any circumstance make a phone call when I'm agitated. Never! It's one thing to call someone because I'm freaked out, but I must have a certain amount of composure so that I may properly communicate. Communication is my biggest challenge. Even when I am able to talk and explain things I am rarely understood. Awareness of my faults is key. If I know there is a problem then I may be able to find a solution. Maybe next time things will go better. In this case I called to say that I was gonna be on the radio. I was so freaked out and hurried that I didn't explain how to listen to the station (which can be streamed at www.kougradio.com) and that I didn't actually need anything, I was just calling to relay information.

So when it all began, I sat and watched. This was easy enough. During the music the girl asked me to tell her something about myself. I will not enjoy job interviews, if ever I am given the opportunity to actually engage in one. I must come up with a response to this query. It is absolutely vital in regards to all social engagements that I am able to talk about myself. When I get started talking about things I am passionate about, I can't shut up. When I am given a broad topic though, such as myself, then I am at a complete loss. Then she asked me questions I really don't like answering because they greatly reduce my self-esteem. "Do you work?" "Do you go to school?" "Why don't you go to school?" "Do you drive?" "Do you have a girlfriend?" "Have you ever had a girlfriend?" I'm glad "Have you ever considered killing yourself?" didn't come up. That's always an awkward question in an interview... and one I will be sure to ask when interviewing prospective henchmen. I couldn't even answer what I do for fun. That's such an easy question! I have no obligations, so everything I do is something I do for fun! I read, I write, I play video games, I study comic books, I doodle, I take pictures of my stuffed animals in public... but none of this came to mind. I was still trapped in the headlights. She even asked me if I had ever gotten drunk. I explained that I had no intention of ever drinking. I am something of a control freak, but I understand that there is absolutely nothing in this world that is under my control. The only thing I can at least try to maintain is my perception of reality, and even that will be lost to me some day.

Eventually my courage came back. Now, this is an important thing for me to remember. This is a fundamental part of who I am, and how I interact with the world around me: I cannot multi task.
I. Can. Not.
I can search for music to play. I can provide useless banter between songs. I can not do both at once. When I have a play list ready to go and all I have to do is flip the mic on and off, and flip the source on and off, then I will be at ease. I know this. Since I could not, I did not, and I failed. After that stammering embarrassment I had to leave. It's a good thing that when I do my show it will be pre-recorded, and won't involve DJing.

Phase 6. There was much screaming and crying at the bus stop. There was also some physical abuse to inanimate objects and I would like to take the time to apologize to that poor trash can. You did not deserve such treatment. I paced and sang and talked out loud. The more I talk the less I think, and the less I think the better I feel... so... eat beans for every meal? I decided to reward my efforts by going to WalMart and playing the XBox 360 demo of Sonic Unleashed. I can easily go on for another few paragraphs about my opinion of that game, but now is not the time. Then I walked home.

I'm completely exhausted. I couldn't maintain my focus long enough to tell Mom about what happened today. I also knew if I tried that I would completely lose it. Every few minutes I remember something about the day and start freaking out, but I'm able to calm myself down. It may take a few days to recover. I don't know whether to classify today as a success or a failure. I did many things today that I certainly would not have done a year ago, or even a few months ago. I was able to stick with something... virtually all the way through. I said "Yes" when I could easily have said "No" and spared myself the pain, and experience. I feel like crap, and probably shortened my lifespan a little more from all the stress, but any battle you can walk away from is a victory... and here I am.

Maybe today was a good day after all.

Accomplishment: Listening to people talk in a tiny crowded book store!

While I was researching the radio station I intend to volunteer my time at I listened to a podcast about a local bookstore downtown called Cover To Cover Books that hosts an open mic poetry night every second Thursday of the month. I don't consider myself a fan of poetry, unless you count poetry in foreign languages that I try to read as English and see what happens, 'cause that's fun. I need places to go in order to get out of the house. I've lived here my whole life and I have no idea what the hell is going on outside of my personal basket (The personal bubble was too confining, so I gave it up in favor of something that actually allowed be to breathe.) So I intend on going. It's this upcoming Thursday. I'll sit and look cute. Maybe I'll meet people I can play with. We'll see.

Turns out they've got other things goin' on, including a writer's mixer every first Saturday of the month (I'm not used to seeing annual events listed like that. I expect to look on their website and see something scheduled for the next full moon.) Every month they have a local guest artist come in and talk about... writing. Today they had a guy named Edward Muller (I discovered the link button. Have you noticed? I bet you didn't. I know who you are. You're not that observant. You're also doing that neurotic thing you do when you sit still at the computer too long. You know what I'm talking about. Stop it.) He basically talked about the sort of neurotic thing that I am always interested in learning: formatting.

Every medium has a different format. Screenplays are different than radio plays, which are different than comic scripts, which are different from cook books, which are different from erotic How-To books (I'm well versed in two of the above. Can you guess which?) and as it turns out manuscripts are a bit different too. Some of the details are identical to the way that writing contest thingy I submitted to had me do it. It doesn't sound like it's entirely necessary, but neither is wearing pants to a corner store. It's just something you do out of courtesy (although if you have really great legs...) I'm neurotic. I like to do things "the right way," as they say. There was also some other stuff about cover letters, dealing with rejection (I plan on using rejection letters I get for papier-mache) and managing what work you've sent to what editor. It seems like there's another mixer in a couple months that talks about how to write compelling villains. I think I need this, because my villains are much too likable. I don't know how to write a character someone could actually hate... intentionally. Hopefully the Cover To Cover folks update their website soon.

I also bought a neat book. One For The Morning Glory by John Barnes. It caught my eye. Then I read the beginning and I was compelled to buy it. I'm trying to follow my compulsions, which is what brought me to the book store to begin with. I don't know when I'll read it. I still have Cat's Cradle on loan from the library to finish up. I don't think I'll get around to Paradise Lost, which is a shame 'cause it's the funniest book ever (Yes, it even tops Frankenstein.)

So, there's that. I'm trying to broaden my horizons. I think that's a weird expression. You're not getting any closer to the horizon, and you still can't see past it. Really all you're doing is creating more doubt and uncertainty. Sorry, this is supposed to be the optimistic blog. I'll save the confusion caused by idioms for some other project.

Oh, hey! I need to update my dreams! This one might actually be obtainable. I want to play video games in a movie theater. I know you can rent out theaters for multimedia conferencing. I want to hook up a PlayStation 2 and play War of the Monsters on the big screen. Shadow of the Colossus would be a good one too.