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 Stand-up Comedy

Yes, that is correct. I, the Infamous Lord Veltha, Prince of Paradox, Dastardly Deviant of Dis-Illusion, and maker of dangerous cheeses, have joined the likes of great stand-up comedians such as my idol Dr. Victor Von Doom (Orbital death rays don't always work their way into the economy of an Eastern European nation stuck in the middle ages, so you gotta do a little somethin' somethin' on the side. A good dictator understands this.)

This weekend was a great success in an already astounding line up of achievements by yours truly, and was kicked off by a victory over my eternal nemesis, Portland Oregon. This wasn't exactly THE victory over the city that frequently thwarts my desires for a fulfilling life, but I was able to claim high scores for Vampire Savior, Asteroids, and Bust-A-Move at Ground Kontrol if only because the scores are reset daily and nobody plays them. This was quickly followed up by a bacon maple bar at Voodoo Doughnut II and a trip back home to the local soda shop for some entertainment.

For roughly eight months (judging from the hastily browsed "Past Events" section on Facebook. I have no idea or care whether this is an accurate count. I have more important matters to attend to, like embedding stupid videos.) the Hilarious Six have been regaling audiences at Pop Culture every second Saturday of the month with their witticisms and songs. I have only had the pleasure of seeing them once before, and have since been thwarted by Fate in my attempts to not be too busy to come.

The evening contained commentary on viral videos, songs by Steven Lynch, re-dubs of "A Charlie Brown Christmas," and facts about horses I didn't even know could be compared to myself (I too can be measured with a hand, where each hand equals four inches.) Before the commencement of the festivities, I was asked by ally and TAD henchman, Kameron Foster, if I would like to participate on stage. I was also assured by Jason Nguyen that I could not possibly bomb as hard as he had in the past, which was perhaps the best possible ego pandering an overlord could have asked for given Jason's comedic aptitude.

I have since learned that KKK jokes do not go over as well for Vancouver audiences as jokes about masturbation. My leading sociologists are currently reviewing statistics now in order to conclude why exactly this is, but my tentative hypothesis is this: Vancouvians are perverts. The rest of my set involved various social shortcomings I face, including a story of bitter-sweet success from a previous blog posting.

I eventually had to be played off with music like an Oscar winner that simply won't shut up, and they couldn't have done it a moment too soon as I had managed to cover my entire life experience in the span of five minutes. I was rewarded with hugs from the other comedians and a strong burning sensation in my stomach similar to my gastric reaction to karaoke.

Stand-up comedy is the most productive form of self-deprecation, and when it burns it burns good. Time will tell if the infection can be cured.

Sewing the Seeds of Fate

The whole point of school, as I understand it, is to learn what you need to learn in order to lead a successful and/or fulfilling life. The system doesn't seem to hold to that ideal (though I've heard great things about Evergreen State, and considering half the people I know go there there must be a reason for it.) Do what you've gotta do to do what you want to do. A well-rounded education certainly isn't gonna hurt. If you're familiar with history, psychology, literature, what-have-you, you can draw from it for inspiration and craft better stories. It's not so much what you know as it is what you can do, and most importantly who knows what you can do. If college can help you get the connections you need in order to get into your desired field then that's definitely the way to go. That was one of the big draws the Art Institute had. Not only could they teach you how to make video games, they had actual connections to developers! Hell, if it weren't for the poor learning environment, bad hours, the soul crushing debt I had taken on in student loans, my own emotional baggage, and the fact I only had one class that actually pertained to my goals and I felt really passionate about while all the others were about covering bridges in fabric and teaching students how to use a keyboard, then by golly I would've stayed. As it stands, I physically had to hold myself back to keep from hurling myself into traffic. I did get a great bag from that school though. It's been with me for years. I've never had a backpack last this long.

I have done my fair share of research, and the general consensus, even among comic artists, is that comics are a waste of time and money (I would love to link to a specific article where the first words of advice are "Cancel all social engagements for the next seven years," but I can't seem to find it again.) Unless fortune smiles on you and you become an instant success you're gonna want a regular job to keep a roof over your head and instant ramen in your stomach, and that's where the college education helps because it looks good when you are applying for a managerial position at Blockbuster. Me? I'm dumber than a lobotomized sheep and have the social skills of a land-mine with palsy. The creative arts are my only shot at a life.

Resources are important. A battle plan must be forged before drastic measures are taken. Unless you have a game plan, you could end up a chronically unemployed, socially-disengaged, eternally recurring pursuer of knowledge doomed to fail, overlord like myself whether you continue with school or not. Don't ditch school unless you have a firm grasp of what you need to do to succeed. Failure is still a possibility, and I understand how terrifying risk can be, but some times you just gotta blind-fire around the corner and hope for the best too. You need tools in order to carve your dreams into the bathroom stall of life. Sadly, I'm just now starting to learn for myself how to get the ball rolling and how to request assistance when the proverbial sphere starts rolling back down the hill of adversity because I'm arrogant enough to assume I can do everything on my own, and ignorant enough to assume I should.

The Astonishing Dude was one of the greatest things that has ever happened to me. It was a way to utilize my writing abilities, learn new skills, bring my allies together, and finally create something after years of struggling with projects I start but never finish and certainly never put before an audience. It was all thanks to a chain of events that began with a simple newspaper. This was one of the few times I was able to fully take matters into my own hands and place myself well outside of my comfort zone, risking complete failure and embarrassment, yet reigning triumphant (for a couple months...)

I wish to do this again. I am keeping my eye out for opportunities again. I am in the midst of tentatively adapting a short story into a screenplay that I will possibly place in the hands o cinematographic mercenaries as a means of testing those waters for a possible future. I need time to prepare and organize a strike-force to re-initiate The Astonishing Dude (I must also seek a new online host for the show. An official Astonishing Dude website would be best, but I will settle for MySpace if I can find someone to design the page for me.) I am also seeking financial aid and enrollment assistance so that I may audit a theater class. I have no intention of enrolling full-time or attempting to get a degree. My only wish is to exploit the school for services I am interested in, learning that which I am eager to learn, and using those tools of the trade to construct a dreadnought of acting ability that I may use to rule the world! Even the Vancouver Voice, the gateway that allowed me to accomplish my finest achievement, had a posting that they were for want of a Neighborhood Beats writer, for which I have inquired about but have not received a reply, and really have no delusions that I will. I am experimenting. I am watching. I am in wait for the next time Fate shows a weakness, that I might perchance to savagely forge for myself a brighter future in her blood.

(Disclaimer: I am an unemployed overlord with delusions of hope. I am in no way encouraging anyone to terminate their education. I am merely trying assist people in realizing personal empowerment so that they may get a hold of their lives in a way they feel is right for themselves. This commentary does not reflect the opinions of anyone other than a depraved and beaten man who lives at home with his mother. Only you can prevent forest fires. Winners don't use drugs. The more you know...)

Lord Veltha Versus The Val Ogden Center

In my quest for hope, belonging, and independence, I was introduced to a facility that literally has these things written on their sign. It couldn't get any more obvious that that's exactly where I need to be.

The Val Ogden Center is a referral only facility for the mentally handicapped run by the recently empowered and mentally handi-capable. Naturally I assumed it would be like Arkham Asylum with the lunatics having taken over, and in this way I was slightly disappointed. However, this Clubhouse provides a very important service to the community that can not be ignored.

Think of the Clubhouse as a social water refinement center. It takes water that, while sullied with all manner of fecal matter and emotional baggage, has the potential to benefit society by providing them with a clean natural resource. The Clubhouse is run by its members, which means all duties pertaining to the maintenance of the Clubhouse is up to them. Essential duties are delegated to volunteers after the morning meeting at 9:00am, and the day is over at 4:30pm. The work is divided into clerical (typing, filing, manning the reception turret), culinary (cooking lunch and washing dishes), and working at the thrift store (imagine if there was a Goodwill in your house, but no one knew it existed and no one shopped there.) The work here provides purpose and guidance to those who would normally be without, and people to playfully distract you while you are trying to accomplish menial tasks. On top of that, the staff is there to assist with career and education goals outside of the Clubhouse as well. Various workshops and meetings are scheduled throughout the week in order to help members achieve their dreams, whatever they may be.

My luxurious sanctum of evil can at times feel like a prison. I live in seclusion from my peers and am frequently left to meditate on important matters of consequence as my only recreation. I have a difficult time reaching out to those lesser beings who populate the world. Simply being in a work environment again has done wonders for me. I have focus, determinations, and a staff of faithful servants willing to facilitate my every need (including freshly baked cookies. I can already sense your jealousy prior to publishing this blog post. It transcends time and space.)

Currently I am attempting to establish a means to attend theatre classes at the local community college so that I may accentuate my already tremendous acting talent with technique training and actual skill. This will also allow me to forge connections in the acting community, stronger bonds with the people I care about as I will be generally closer in proximity to them, and in time I may at last achieve my goals of GLOBAL DOMINATION! (Gwahaha. Mine is an evil laugh.)

Pathos and good will,
Lord Veltha

Lord Veltha Versus Happiness

It has come to my attention that in principal such things as wealth, power, and fame are not goals people strive for, but the means to their goal. That goal of course is happiness.

Happiness is by definition, "a state of well-being and contentment." The dictionary as always is particularly vague when it comes to subjects of importance such as this, and it is best that people are left to define their own happiness. (The dictionary does however contain the long sought after meaning of "life." Why it has never occurred to people to look it up in the dictionary is beyond me.)

I do not feel as though my problem lies in un-happiness. I am by nature a happy person, but I am away from my natural habitat where I can be myself to the best of my ability. I am away from my natural habitat due to avoidant behavior. I avoid things due to the fear that somehow I will make things worse than they are. It is much safer for me to hide within the confines of my impregnable fortress.

Psychologically, even chronically miserable people have in some depraved way found happiness. Try to snap them out of it and watch how their mood goes from bad to worse. Humans are comforted by that which is familiar to them. Take away that comfort and latent survival instincts kick in. Fending for emotional survival isn't often considered a state of well-being. (This link is not even the least bit relevant.)

If happiness is the goal, then I fear I am going about it all wrong. No amount of therapy can MAKE me happy. Discussing pertinent issues such as relationships and economic ways to destroy the world is helpful without a doubt, but the whole point is to allow me to integrate myself into the world and become a productive member of society. That is the key. I'm learning how to cope with reality, not how to participate in it. I am about as well adjusted as I'm going to get, frightening though it may sound. Therapy will not bring me happiness, and I'm afraid more therapy will only not bring me happiness to a greater extent. It's time I learned how to do things on my own. Only then will I be fit to rule this world with an iron fist.

As such, there are only two things that will bring me happiness.

1) A positive social life

2) Purpose

Group gatherings occur when I am invited to or send invitations to planned events, yet my not-the-least-bit-creepy-or-stalkerish research suggests many shared activities are spontaneous. I'm simply in the wrong place at the wrong time. Comrades frequently in close proximity to each other are more likely to ensue in mischief.

Plausible Solution: Discover a method for maintaining consistent social contact with friends in person, whether it be to arrange a meeting place or get over my anti-social pansy-assedness and call people once in a while. Phones aren't that scary.

Alternative Solution: Kidnapping. It seems to work for most evil overlords. Besides, when does brain-washing go wrong?

Purpose is a little trickier. I can not simply slap a sticker on an activity or job and call it purpose. The key as always is to FEEL like it's my purpose. As it so happens there are two activities I feel a strong connection to, however I think I have described the pros and cons before. Writing is problematic as I'm inconsistent in my writing habits and abilities, and in order to move forward in my life I would need to complete a project. My voice box however is armed and cocked (...*cough*...), I just don't know where to take it.

Plausible Solution: Ask for help. I have resources I could exploit. I know people who know things about knowing things. I could ask for assistance from people connected to the field, and people may even give it to me without having to resort to mind-control.

Alternative Solution: Mind control

I must take charge of my life to ensure that I have a future. Perhaps I will get started on that tomorrow.

Pathos and goodwill

Lord Veltha is a typhoon of WIN

It's official. I am a tropical cyclone of amateur voice acting success. It's been almost a month since my last post, and in that time I have landed a slew of roles that will surely not become overwhelming in the least.
...
*cough*

Upon being cast in Naruto The Abridged Series Movie (and hookers!) my ego was inflated to beyond healthy proportions and I decided to investigate further roles. The fellow who kindly pointed me in the direction of the "Old Guy" audition mentioned that he was casting for Wild ARMS Abridged.

For those who don't know (namely my parents) an "Abridged Series" is a fan made series of videos often posted on YouTube where anime fans condense thirty minute episodes into eight or ten minutes, often lampshading confusing plot points, making fun of annoying characters, or completely changing a character's personality (or ethnicity, eh?) Often the resulting show becomes almost completely unrecognizable. There are many many bad ones, and even the more popular ones will make you want to lick a cheese grater to get your mind off of the pain, but they are altogether a somewhat humorous display of fandom.

For more information, consult the media entertainment equivalent of The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy: TV Tropes

After auditioning and receiving praise (and yea, even lending some requested script assistance) I got the role. I didn't know how many of the roles I got until now, but I'll get to that.

It was also from this source I learned of Voice Acting Alliance, which is a resource for amateur voice actors, directors, producers, etc who have all come together with a common goal: be awesome. It was here I decided to bite off more than I can chew, and why I continue to resemble a cow chewing cud.

For the record (and because my own memory is so terrible that I really need to write this crap down somewhere) here is the current list of projects I'm engaged in.

Wild ARMS Abridged (Abridged series based on Wild ARMS: Twilight Venom)
-Sheyanne Rainstorm (High normal voice. I didn't even audition for it! No kidding! I hate my voice...)
-Dr. Kiel Arronax (AKA "Doctor Captain Pirate Mullet". Brock Samson)

Neon Genesis Evangelion: Black Nerv Project (Not sure what the final name is, but it's a parody of Evangelion. From the looks of the script, I don't think they actually shortened it, so I don't think it's "Abridged." Amazing script though.)
-Fuyutsuki (The Old Guy strikes again! Get off my lawn!)
-Male Announcers 1, 2, and 3, helicopter pilots, crew mamber (I haven't gotten a critique yet on my auditions, so I'm not sure what I'm doing here. For these I mostly used variations on my annoying normal voice, and Stu Brawny Johnson. (Think Coach Z from homestarrunner.com))
-Sachiel The Angel (They said "Go nuts!" I went nuts, throwing in every voice I can do. I don't know what one they chose, and may not know until the show is finished because they only needed that one line.)

By the way, they're still looking for actresses.

Mega Man X: Vile (A fan-made RPG based on the Mega Man X series.)
I auditioned for four roles, and didn't get any of them because my voices didn't fit the characters. Luckily, I still got parts.
-Metal Shark Player (Auditioned for Dr. Wily. High-pitched pirate. Yeah, I'm awesome.)
- Mattrex (KROGNOLON! I have to make him sound sly and not stupid though. We'll see how that goes.)

I also get to re-audition for the role of Dynamo after having heard more information, and a clip from another audition. (I think I gotta go somewhere between Brock Samson and my normal voice. Have I mentioned I hate my normal voice? Just recordings though. I can and do talk to myself incessantly.)

That's not a whole lot, right? Sure my social life is suffering, but that's because I've been reclusive and depressed! Now I'll be isolated from the people I care about because of my heavy workload, the way it's SUPPOSED to be. Just in time for the holidays. (That's okay, people can pick up their Snowflake Day presents next month.)

I have a lot of links scattered around in this post. I don't know if they'll transfer over to Facebook or not. If not, then tough luck.

(Quick Rant: I downloaded a Dragonball Raging Blast demo last night. Now, why the HELL would they put out a demo of a FIGHTING GAME and not make it TWO PLAYER? It's RIDICULOUS!)

Pathos and good will,
Lord V.

"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.