My Response to "Noise" by Nightwish

***MY RESPONSE TO “NOISE” BY NIGHTWISH***

I’ve been a fan of Nightwish’s music dating all the way back to 2002. It started with “She Is My Sin” from the Wishmaster album and it snowballed from there. I was heartbroken to learn about Tarja Turunen’s firing from the band in 2005. I also crushed on her and Anette Olzon throughout my college days. I talked with Tuomas Holopainen on My Space (if that was really him). I wrote several creepy essays about Nightwish to cope with my loneliness. Okay, that last part was on a need-to-know basis, but you get what I’m trying to say. And I’ve accepted the fact that my heroes and I are going to have disagreements from time to time. I don’t agree with Roger Waters’s fox hunting. I don’t agree with Daniel Bryan’s anti-meat agenda. I don’t agree with George Carlin’s hatred of fat people. Disagreements happen and that’s a part of life a lot of people are going to have to get realistic about.

A few days ago, Nightwish released a new single from their latest album and that song is called “Noise”. If you’ve watched the video for it or have read the lyrics on Google, then you’d be blind not to notice the strong technophobic themes. You’ve heard these messages before from Baby Boomers and Gen Xers. Staring at your screen all the time will make you mentally ill. Social media will brainwash you into becoming a mediocre zombie. Young people need to wake up. Yada, yada, yada, you get the point by now. There used to be a time when I blindly agreed with these sentiments. But knowing what I know about today’s world and how my generation has been derided for far too long, I’m afraid I’m going to have to crack my knuckles for this post. Tuomas, Floor, Marco, everyone in the band, I love you all dearly. I wouldn’t trade you for anyone else. But you wanted a conversation and you’ve got one.

In case I haven’t whined about it enough online, I live in a small town called Port Orchard, Washington. I’ve lived in small towns for pretty much all of my teenaged and adult life. These small towns all have something in common: they’ve got…and I’m not exaggerating…a whole lot of jack shit. The most entertaining thing one could do in Port Orchard is go to a grocery store or fast food establishment and pig the fuck out on junk food. You can also do drugs and alcohol if you’d like. Me? I could probably go to a bar and meet strangers. There’s just one problem: I don’t have a car nor do I want one. I’ll leave it to someone else to fly through the windshield and plow into a ditch. With no car and with constantly pouring weather, I can’t exactly go out and do whatever the hell I want without someone giving me a lift. Even if I did trust myself behind the wheel of a car, I wouldn’t be able to meet people anyways because I’m too fucking shy. I hate being rejected and I hate embarrassing other people as well.

More often than not, the only form of entertainment I can consistently count on is social media. Whether I’m watching a You Tube video, surfing Deviant Art, interacting with other readers on Good Reads, or boosting my own career as an independently-published author, social media has been there for me. That’s right. Without social media, I’d have no writing career. I could go the traditionally published route, but that would mean getting past gatekeepers that never gave a shit about me in the first place. The reason it’s called social media is because it’s, you guessed it, social. In a town with a whole lot of jack shit, I can go online and talk to other people who are feeling just as lonely as me. Are they online all the time? No. But it’s better than wandering the rainy streets of Port Orchard looking for a whole lot of nothing. What am I supposed to do, knock on random doors in my neighborhood and ask people if they want to be my friend? Please.

Does social media have drawbacks? Yes. Is it unhealthy to compare yourself to the perfect versions of other people? Yes. Should I be looking for other hobbies? Yes. But do I have much of a choice in the matter given my circumstances? Absolutely not. Cars are expensive as hell and they’re fucking dangerous too. Real life people would rather avoid and ignore me than see my vulnerable side. Being a lower class weirdo doesn’t matter on social media because strangers will be there to comfort you and come together for you. Do I still feel lonely sometimes? Yes. But do I blame it all on social media and my generation growing up with it? Hell no. Blaming my generation for everything is a lazy copout for fixing systemic problems within our society.

But this is just my experience. I’m sure there are people out there who do just fine without social media. Hell, I know some old people who are glued to their phones and nobody kicks up a fuss about them. We all have our way of coping with boring lives. We all have a distraction of some sort. Some people snort cocaine. Some people chow down on Kentucky Fried Chicken. Me? I use social media as my escape. Why? Because I don’t have a fucking choice. Do I want choices? Absolutely. But are they going to present themselves to me in a way that’s considerate of my circumstances? No.

Like I said earlier, I love Nightwish and will always cherish their music no matter what. I don’t want you all to think I’m putting the boots to them over a minor disagreement. They’re entitled to their opinions just like I’m entitled to mine. I’m sure Tuomas and I can sit down and discuss this over a nice lunch at That One Place (a diner here in Port Orchard with enormous fucking pancakes). I’m sure Floor and I can share a few plates of chow mein from China Sun Buffet (also in Port Orchard), and no, that’s not me asking her out on a date. Remember, I don’t like embarrassing other people with my flirty behavior and that includes Floor Jansen.

The point is, Nightwish wanted to get a discussion going and that’s exactly what happened. I see a lot of people agreeing with “Noise’s” message on social media (the irony is killing me), but I don’t see a lot of opposition. I can promise you one thing, though: if Nightwish ever comes to my home state of Washington for a concert, I promise I won’t shout “OK Boomer!” after they’re done playing Noise. That dishonor is reserved for Nonpoint and their song “Generation Idiot”. I’m joking, of course. Nonpoint did a hell of a job opening for Hellyeah back in December, though I was secretly doing my happy dance when they neglected to play “Generation Idiot”. I’m Garrison Kelly! Until next time, try to enjoy the daylight!

***LYRICS OF THE DAY***

“The days were brighter. Gardens were blooming. The nights had more hope in their silence. The wild was calling. Wishes were whispering. The time was there, but without a meaning. The days departed. Gardens deserted. This frail world my only rest. The wild calls no more. Wishes were hollow. The barefoot boy weeping in an empty night. Cherish the moment. Tower the skies. Don’t let the dreamer fade to gray like grass. No falling for life. A gain for every loss. Time gathered me, but kept me flying. Away, away, away in time. Every dream’s a journey away. Away, away to a home away from care. Everywhere’s just a journey away.”

-Nightwish singing “Away”, which as you can see is not a technophobic diatribe-

Nightwish

***NIGHTWISH***

This coming Monday (March 7th), I’m taking a trip over to Seattle to watch Nightwish play at the Showbox SoDo. The last time I saw them was in 2008 at the same venue, but with Anette Olzon as the lead singer. This time around eight years later, Floor Jansen will be their singer. Anybody who’s known me long enough knows how special a Nightwish concert is to me. Not to devalue every other band I’ve seen over the years, but this is Nightwish. This is the same band that filled the void for me when I was in college and lonely as hell. I even wrote a short story based on Nightwish fandom called “Wishes in the Night” (clever title) and it’s near the end of American Darkness. People seemed to think that Danielle Keyes (the main character of that story) came off as a creepy cultist, but that’s not a bad thing, because I laughed my ass off. I’m still smiling about that critique today.

Just like with every concert or vacation, the days that I’m gone will mean limited internet activity. But also just like with every concert or vacation, I’ll always return to see your guys’ smiling faces. You all will get hugs, kisses, hair fuzzles, shoulder rubs, whatever puts you at ease and sends the message that I’m here to stay. I’m obviously not going to take pictures of the Nightwish concert, because I don’t want my camera to get broken in the mosh pit (if there is one). Plus, I don’t own a smart phone, so I can’t take pictures that way either. But for all you Face Bookers out there, this concert will be added to my “life events” along with my other concerts and vacations…for whatever it’s worth.

Here’s to good times and badass rock and roll! We’ve got ears, say cheers!


***DARK FANTASY WARRIORS***

Even though Marco Torres (my last subject) was a villain, I’ve recently acquired some new villains with the addition of the monthly contest at the WSS, so I’ve got a little bit of a surplus. The next villain I draw will be the lead villain of “Scarecrow Justice”, Edward Bell, the paramilitary hit man. For his design, I was thinking of doing a crossover between a SWAT team member and The Ultimate Warrior. I may even include the face paint. Although, plans can change at the drop of a hat, so you never know.


***POLITICAL QUOTE OF THE DAY***

“Saying atheism is a religion is like saying abstinence is a sex position.”

-Bill Maher-

Constance Cable

For some reason, it always seems like every MMA referee character I create is a powerful woman. Maybe that’s because women are a minority in MMA and they get picked on a lot by guys who always seem to have a craving for sandwiches. Dudes, listen: if you want a sandwich, go to Subway. If you want someone to save you from a beating in the middle of an MMA fight, look no further than Constance Cable. You can call her Miss Cable. You can even call her Connie. But whatever you do, don’t fucking call her Constance the Cable Girl. She has virtually no interest in hooking you up with over 500 channels, 100 of which are religious stations, 200 of which are music stations, and the other 200 are channels nobody gives a shit about. She’s also not a redneck comedian who picks on minorities. Like Devon Spirit Wolf, Constance Cable also holds very strong liberal beliefs. But unlike Miss Spirit Wolf, Constance expresses her beliefs in a mature and professional way. Preferably, a way that doesn’t get her into trouble with whatever athletic commission she happens to be working for. Imagine that: MMA aficionados can actually talk peacefully among themselves. In fact, when Herb Dean stopped Urijah Faber’s fight with Renan Barao, Constance came out in support of Mr. Dean, saying that holding onto someone’s leg and holding a thumbs up weren’t necessarily the best way to defend yourself. By the way, Constance Cable isn’t a real person in case you haven’t figured that out already. She’s a character of mine who’s seeking employment in one of my stories. I’ve managed to squeeze Devon Spirit Wolf into one of my short stories, so there has to be room for Miss Cable somewhere else. Maybe she doesn’t have to be an active referee. That would open up a lot of possibilities for her character. Whether she’s stopping a fight or relaxing in a bathtub with a novel, it’s her wisdom that will see her through any narrative. She’s going to need all the wisdom in the world, because let’s face it, Constance Cable is not a perfect referee. She’s going to have people mad at her for the calls she’s made. Suppose Constance is in her hot tub reading a book and all of the sudden an angry assassin creeps up on her property and attempts to silence her once and for all. That could be the start of a thrilling read. In fact, it sounds a lot like the preface to a CJ Box work (without all the Ayn Rand references, of course). Constance has to do something when that blade reaches her throat. How about an arm bar? Or a leg bar? Or just a good old fashioned elbow to the ribs. This premise would work better if Constance knew how to fight. All this talk about plotting gave me an idea for a short story. Thanks, stream of consciousness!

　

***CONCERT QUOTE OF THE DAY***

“I like sausages! That’s Romanticide!”

-Marco Hietala from Nightwish-

Allegra Nation

The depression memoir “Prozac Nation” by Elizabeth Wurtzel was so much of a smash hit that Hollywood made a movie out of it. I suppose that should prompt me to write a memoir called “Risperdal Nation” since I’m legitimately schizophrenic. My life isn’t nearly as interesting as Elizabeth Wurtzel’s, so maybe I’ll have to hold off for a while. You know what else would make a weird memoir? “Allegra Nation”. Ever since having nasal surgery in 2006, I’ve been gagging on my own snot and blowing my nose like an elephant whenever I’m out in public. Allegra seems to be the only over-the-counter medication that works so far. If you managed to get this far in the blog post without falling asleep, kudos to you. The point I’m trying to make is Elizabeth Wurtzel is a one of a kind author with one of a kind skills. To try and duplicate her work would be next to impossible. You can’t just remove the word “Prozac” from the title of your memoir and replace it with another medication. Suppose you have chronic constipation and you tried to write a memoir called “Phillip’s Colon Health Nation”. Would that sell very many copies? “The diarrhea splatter looked like guts after the Vietnam war.” I’m sorry, but there’s simply no way to make diarrhea or constipation interesting. Same thing with “Yaz Nation”. I suppose a memoir about having lots of sex would prove to be spicy and hot, but we don’t need to hear that you constantly used Yaz as a birth control pill, especially now that women are having strokes because of it. Hehe! I said “strokes” in a sentence about sex. You know what else would make a weird memoir? “Pamprin Nation”. There’s simply no way to make periods sound readable. “After I bled all over the floor like a Saw character, I yelled at my boyfriend so loudly that he began bleeding out of his ears.” There’s simply no way a blogger with testicles can make that sound interesting without coming off as a sexist pig. I assure you I’m not a sexist. I’m merely trying to prove a point that if you try to write a memoir based on a random medication, you won’t get the results you want. Elizabeth Wurtzel is a Generation X icon with a lot to say, even after 1994, when Prozac Nation was published. Her memoir is more than just constant complaining about being sad. It’s social commentary. It’s psychology. It’s something you can’t write if you’re constantly ingesting Phillip’s Colon Health pills.

　

***CONCERT QUOTE OF THE DAY***

“Keep your eyeballs wet! The tax collector is coming!”

-Marco Hietala from Nightwish-

"Once Upon a Nightwish" by Mape Ollila

I’ve been a Nightwish fan since 2002 when my brother introduced the song “She Is My Sin” to me. When lead singer Tarja Turunen was fired in 2005, I’ve always encouraged people never to side with one particular camp. Being a supporter of both sides of the Nightwish equation, I can safely say without fail that Mape Ollila’s biography of the band is easily the most disturbing thing I’ve ever read. I could have watched Jeffrey Dahmer chowing down on a corpse or the cast of iCarly getting foot-raped by Dan Schneider and I still wouldn’t be as disturbed and frightened as I was when reading the last hundred pages of this book. I wasn’t disturbed by the crazy antics of the crew such as sticking their dicks in light sockets and getting drunk off their asses. I wasn’t even disturbed by the early on infighting that took place within the band. Those things I can handle. I’m speaking exclusively about the last hundred pages, where Tarja’s South American husband Marcelo Cabuli is portrayed as being no different from oysters at the bottom of the Deep Water Horizon. I’ll leave it up to you guys to figure out what that last phrase means. I’m not saying the portrayal was just, but I’m also not saying it wasn’t. Even after reading the different ways in which the band was falling to pieces such as cancelling shows due to “low payments”, skipping rehearsals, and a general change of attitude on Tarja’s part, I refuse to become a headhunter for any one particular side. Instead, I’m just going to keep on saying what I’ve been saying since 2005: just listen to the wonderful music the group plays and shut up. Isn’t that what it’s all about to begin with? The music? Tuomas Holopainen, the keyboardist and songwriter, seems to think it’s about the music. And when arguments with Tarja and Marcelo began to get in the way of creating music, he had to make a decision that wasn’t the most agreeable among fans: he terminated her. It was a sad moment for everybody, no matter what “camp” you as a fan were from. Since losing Tarja in 2005, the band had been scrambling to find a new singer and finally did in Anette Olzon, as evidenced in her work on the 2007 album “Dark Passion Play”. And that’s exactly where the story ends: 2007, as that was the time Bazillion Points published the book. I’d like to think that there will be another installment of “Once Upon a Nightwish” since a lot has happened since 2007, but in all honesty, we’ll just have to wait a few more years. To be honest yet again, I’d probably be frightened and disturbed once more if a new book was published since in 2012 Anette left the band on her own terms. I’d like to think that Anette’s decision to leave wasn’t laced in poisonous hatred. But that’s a story for another day. What did I think of this particular book that I’m speaking of now? Great stuff. Very well written. Mape Ollila is an awesome author and should have never been taken to court by Marcelo Cabuli. Never!

　

***LYRICS OF THE DAY***

“An obese girl enters an elevator with me, all dressed up fancy, a green butterfly on her neck. Terribly sweet perfume deafens me. She’s going to dinner alone. That makes her even more beautiful.”

-Nightwish singing “Song of Myself”-