9 posts tagged “dead poets society”

Today I found a really neat post from novelist Pat Cadigan about our song and video for "Synners" which of course was inspired by her novel Synners. If you get a chance also check out "Tea from an Empty Cup" (another book that will blow your mind).  Discovering her blog was a pleasant surprise.  She has an avalanche of photos at her Flickr page and is a master of the Twitter sized post.

She directed my attention to this hilarious clip from Henry Rollins:

The writing for this clip was a piece from his 2005 book, "Roomanitarian"

After banging my head against a Python programming wall for the better part of two hours this morning I finally gave up and turned my attention elsewhere. I thought about working on the NIN "Survivalism" remix but decided that I had not quite captured the muse on that front, so I finally settled for making revisions with my novel, THIRST.

I decided I might as well give those of you who endure my posts from day to day a glimpse into "THIRST".

(note, for those of you whose eyes glaze over at the mere mention of fiction, writing, or reading, I've posted a new Dead Poets Society track "Despair and Despondency".)

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A Chapter from THIRST by Wa

Cash’s extensive food supply consisted of a few instant noodled soup packages, a half-filled jug of orange juice, and a couple of browning bananas. He’d just added the water to a single serving of chicken flavored Cup O’Noodles and placed it inside his microwave when he heard a familiar rhythmic knock at his door. He closed the door and set the microwave for two and a half minutes. The rhythmic tapping resumed at his door. As he padded to the door, he pulled his long hair back from his eyes and secured it in a ponytail with a black rubber band. Doing so, revealed the rows of data input jacks that had been surgically implanted in his head. Four on each side, running down the space of where his temples should have been.

Through the peephole, it appeared that Shell was alone. Satisfied, he began the somewhat tedious process of releasing and unlocking the various locks he'd added on his door.

As he swung open the door he was greeted by the fuzzy and slight frame of a Golden Lab Retriever that sat impatiently at Shell’s feet. The excited dog's tail  wagged uncontrollably from side to side and slammed absentmindedly into the thick soles of Shell’s Doc Martens. Cash scratched Gigi lightly behind the ear and said a few kind words to her. Gigi responded by panting appreciatively.

Gigi of course was quite familiar to him, she had been just one of many animals that resided at an animal shelter that Shell had reported on only a few months earlier. During the investigation, assisted by Cash, quite ably so if he said so himself, she was able to determine and reveal through her news reports that the veterinarian in practice was much more interested in using his admitted pet patients as test subjects for his narcotic visions and painful vivisection in order to test the usefulness of new pharmaceutical drugs that were scheduled to be tested by the Food and Drug Administration before they were released by a group of notable multinational corporations (none of whom by the way took any responsibility for his actions) upon the unsuspecting masses rather than the compassionate art of practicing healthful medicine. The vet had been imprisoned on charges of animal abuse and neglect, but unfortunately most of the innocent animals were in such poor health that they were past the point of recovery and had to have be put to down.

Shell had adopted the only canine who had survived. It seemed that Gigi had recovered quite nicely and was hardly the emaciated shadow of a dog-like creature that she had once been. It had been during those investigative reports that he and Shell had become acquainted with and fostered a good working friendship.

“Come on in.” Cash said. “Why is Gigi here? You know that my super will freak if she finds her here.”

Slung over one shoulder Shell carried a dark, well worn leather case. “Relax. I looked before I came up. Her light was off. Besides, you don’t actually think that she would check up on you at...”The microwave beeped in the background and she glanced over at it, ”5:23 in the morning...Do you?” Cash closed and locked the door behind her, but not before taking a quick glance up and down the hallway.

“I suppose not.” he admitted as he retrieved the steaming soup. He opened a drawer of flatware that varied in styles, none of them forming a complete set. From the piles of metal he gathered a shiny spoon that he thought was probably clean and peeled back the paper lid of the soup cup. “Would you like a glass of OJ?”

“Sure.” she said and made herself comfortable on his ratty couch. “You got any more of that soup around? I haven’t had anything since dinner last night.”

“Yeah, I think so. I haven’t got anything vegetarian or vegan though. Mind settling for something chicken or bovine flavored?” His words tumbled through a mouthful of noodles.

“Definitely Chicken.” she said. “I once tried that Vegan lifestyle but it wasn’t for me. Nor do I recommend Macrobiotic cooking if you haven’t yet experienced it. It will take your bowels on an adventure that makes Conrad's Heart of Darkness look a ride at Disneyland.”

“Ahhh..” he said, “point noted.”, and grabbed another serving of uncooked chicken cup o’ noodles and placed it in the microwave. “So what’s this job about? Protection again? Finding someone’s lost cat?” he opened the refrigerator, yanked out the half full jug of orange juice and poured them into to a pair of collectible 8 oz. mickey mouse glasses he found at a local secondhand store. The jug felt like there was only one swallow remaing inside the container, but he returned the container to the refrigerator anyhow. “If so, you might just consider hiring Gigi... she’s more affordable and probably wouldn’t mind some entertainment.”

“It’s nothing like that. This is serious stuff.” Shell said. “It’s about five hundred thousand dollars and murder.”

“Sorry, I’m not up for murdering today. It always ends up causing me nothing but headaches.” One glance at Shell and he could tell that his joke fell on deaf ears.

Shell sighed and thumbed through a faded Sandman graphic novel that had been left on the floor near her chair. “Actually, its not about killing anyone. Its about determining the identity and location of a murderer.” She paused and diverted her attention from the graphic novel to him for a moment.

“Very well then.” Cash handed the glass to Shell. “So what are the details?”

Shell closed the comic, and took a sip of her orange juice. “Last night my news director called me into her office. A body had been discovered earlier that night. She asked me to investigate and see if I could find an acceptable angle for the story.” The microwave beeped again. Shell stood, opened the microwave, retrieved her soup, and grabbed herself a fork, before returning to the couch.

“Acceptable angle?” Cash asked.

She took a quick sip of her drink. “Right, for our story.”

“And this is where the five hundred thousand comes in?”

“ Not yet. I’m getting to that.” she said. “ I returned to my office and began some background research of the area where the body was discovered. A few moments later my news director called me back into her office and informed me the story was now off. The station decided it was not interested in the story. It seems the police feel it was probable that the homicide was nothing more than a simple case of a prostitute killed by one of her johns. “Management seems to feel that the public is tired of seeing stories of violence about the city’s expendable underground community. Principally I can see where she is coming from. There isn’t much of a market for this kind of story unless it develops into a serial killer or mass murder scenario. It usually gets buried among more pressing news stories that have a wider impact on the public at large. Kind of twisted thinking if you ask me, but I don’t make the rules. “ Shell took a sip of her juice. “I decided to check it out, just to be sure. I called a contact of mine on the force and asked him to verify the statement. He declined to verify, but did suggest that the victim was missing squares of flesh from diifferent locations on their body. Like some kind of ritual murder or something. Now THAT to me doesn’t sound like an ordinary murder. ”

“Doesn’t, does it?” Cash said.

“I couldn’t milk any details out of him than that. I called the Stockard family, whose son discovered the body...”

“Where was the dump site?” Cash interrupted.

“Inside St. Paul’s Episcopal Church, or so I’m told.” Shell took a spoonful of soup and blew lightly on it.” It’s an old boarded up church on 17^th & Montana, near the hospital. It’s been abandoned for years.”

Cash nodded. Many of the buildings located in old-town were boarded up and abandoned.

“Anyway, the Stockards said that after the police responded to the call-”

“Any idea when was law enforcement notified? ” Cash asked He rose from his seat and paced into the kitchen. Gigi followed, sniffing the ground in his wake.

“Around 8:00 p.m. last night. But listen, this is important. Right around 10:00 p.m. a man came by their home and asked them to contact him first if they had anymore information they could share. He left his card and didn’t even take the time to look at the crime scene. So I asked for the information on the card and all I got was this.” She dug into her pocket and produced a folded piece of paper, which she handed to Cash. He unfolded the paper.

James Pavilonis.

541.503.29.61.1745

Instead of seeing a universal resource locator for the persons com-unit, he was faced with what seemed to be a run of the mill phone number. “Just a straight land line number?” he said, surprised. “No vid?” Everyone had com-units these days, so it was unusual for anyone to pass out land line phone numbers. Phone numbers these days were usually only used by those who could not afford high speed connections, or people who didn't want to share their visual identities with the public. “Interesting... A private investigator?” Cash suggested.

“No.” Shell said.

“So, did you give Mr. Pavilonis a call?”

“I’m getting to that. I did call him and he refused to speak with me. I hung up and no more than a few minutes had passed before I received another call. The caller said he wished to remain anonymous, and although caller ID didn’t verify it, the voice was easy enough to recognize.”

“James Pavilonis, right?”

“Exactly. I don’t think he even bothered to use a voice filter.” she said and rolled her eyes. “He offered a reward of $500,000 to anyone with information that resulted in the apprehension of the murderer. He asked if the station could assist him by televising his offer. I responded in the affirmative, after all it was shaping up to be a great human interest story. Its not everyday that such a substantial reward is offered to find the identity of a murderer who’s been accused of killing what appears to be a prostitute. I went about acquiring the necessary personal information we would require in the event that we did televise the offer. It was at this point in our conversation that he clammed up, and resisted revealing any further personal information. Before I could interject, he said he’d have to get back to us, and hung up. I ran a check on his phone number over the net and I discovered that the call had been made from what the blogosphere reputed to be a brothel downtown. I couldn’t locate an address for the brothel. No surprise there right?”

They both traded knowing grins.

“Anyhow, the phone numbers certainly matched. I called him back and told him I knew who he was and could understand why he might be hesitant to speak with me, but without his cooperation in clarifying matters I would be forced to reveal his name to the police who were investigating the homicide.”

“After that I can imagine he wasn’t a very happy camper.” Cash said.

“That’s putting it mildly. He swore that he had nothing to do with the murder, and after some hemming and hawing he agreed to give me a couple of advance days to see what I could find out before he made the reward public. We have a three day head start.”

Cash traced the lip of his glass thoughtfully.“What did you have in mind, exactly?”

Shell shrugged. “I get another chance at the story, and you get the reward.”

“You don’t want any of the reward?” he asked, mildly surprised and disbelieving.

“Frankly, it would be unethical for me, as a journalist, to accept such a reward.”

“I see.” Cash unconsciously caressed the tattoos on his left arm that ran from his wrist to his forearm temporarily lost in thought while considering the reward. He’d never earned that much money from any of his prior gigs. Even during his days when he’d worked with Okaiya his cut had never been more than four digits.

“If your director killed the story, how do you expect to get another shot at it?”

“I’m sure I could convince her to re-consider her decision if I can I find the human interest angle in the story...something that exceeds the whole ‘woe is the life of the lowly downtrodden masses angle’. Besides we are always look for a scoop on the competition. I just need something that doesn’t reek of shock and awe.”.

“Right.” he said and fruitlessly pondered how they might achieve that end. She seemed raring to go. Cash couldn’t remember a time he had ever seen her so imbued with unparalleled enthusiasm. “It would really help me if I could get a chance to see the crime scene. Then again, I’m not sure how we might get a good look at it since we're not associated with the police.”

“I can get us inside the crime scene if I bring you in as my cameraman, I’ll use my press credentials and we can pick up a camera on loan from the station. You know how to operate a station camera?” Shell asked.

“No. But I’m confident I can figure it out. If I’m not mistaken don’t they I.D. all of the press who enter the crime scene, including camera operators?”

“With some creativity, I’m sure we can finesse the situation. I have a friend who may be able to remedy the press pass problem.” Shell reached for her briefcase, unclasped it, and retrieved a slender manila folder and wireless phone from inside. She flashed quickly through a list of stored numbers on her phone, selected one, and waited patiently for a connection to be established.

“Richard?” Shell said. How are you?” her voice and face lit up and naturally shifted into TV personality mode. A barely audible voice responded on the phone. “Me? Oh great....uh-huh....yes, I know it’s early, but I had to speak to you....No, I haven’t reconsidered your offer. Richard, we’re just friends...yes, I know. Its special circumstances... Look Richard... you owe me and I need a favor right now... I need a camera pass. Did I ask you all kinds of questions when you asked me for a favor? ... Exactly, yes, that’ll work just fine.”

Shell glanced at him. “Dwarf. Mid-thirties. Male. Long hair, brown in color, blue eyes. Be creative with the name. I’ll bring you his height and weight.” she listened intently, and then laughed. “So, do I get the pass or not?...Uh-huh...sure...8 a.m.? Okay. Bye. Bye.” Shell shook her head in disbelief as she put the phone away.

“Who was that?” Cash asked.

“Richard Roma. He’s the news director in charge of personnel at CTDN.”

“Well, what did he have to say?”

“He said that he could have your press pass finished and ready for us by 8 a.m. when their newsroom opens. I’ll need a head shot of you. Do you have one? If not we can always take one with my still camera.”

“I’ve got one I can give you.”

“ Great.” Shell finished off her orange juice and placed the glass in the kitchen sink.

“I was thinking,” Cash said. “it would be extremely helpful if we could get a copy of the police report. Do you have a means of acquiring such information?” Cash asked.

“I have a source I have used in the past, but I don’t think it would be wise to tap them this time.”

“Okay.” Cash said, and assumed that she had her reasons and they were probably pretty good ones. “I suppose we might be able to hire a code monkey to get us a copy of the police report.” he added, “Then again that may take a few days to arrange. Sometimes a report is not filed for weeks, occasionally months while they gather the preliminary reports.”

“I know.” Shell said with a polite smile.

“Right. Of course you do.” he said, and experienced a brief moment of awkwardness. “So we’ve got just over two hours to kill?”

“Yep.” Shell replied. “Any ideas until then?”

“I’m sure I can think of a couple. Being prepared is certainly a good one. Please excuse me.” he said, opened his closet door and disappeared inside. After a few moments Cash reappeared, clad in a heavy black longcoat that brushed the heels of his black, steel-toed boots. In one hand he clutched a large faded black and slightly frayed duffel bag, and in the other hand he carried an equally frayed guitar case.

“Here, would you mind carrying this?” Cash asked, and offered her the guitar case. She accepted it and under the heavy strain of whatever was inside dropped it unintentionally with a thud to the wooden floor.

“Jeez, this seems ridiculously heavy for a guitar. What’s in here?” Shell asked as she continued her struggle to lift the bag from the floor.

“Heavy metal.” Cash said and chuckled at his own joke.

“Oh, hilarious. “ she said bitterly. “Seriously, what is it?”

“Its an FN-HAR.”

“A what?” she asked.

“FN-HAR. An assault rifle. It’s a gun.”

“An assault rifle? What do we need one of those for?”

“Right now, we don’t. But, if we do, then I want it to be in the car, ready to go, instead of waiting at home in my closet.”

“A bit extreme don’t you think?” she asked.

“You’d be surprised how extreme this city can be.” Cash said.

“Alright.” Shell said and put her hands up. “ I surrender. You win.” She called Gigi who subsequently bounded down hall and obediently allowed Shell to clip her collar onto a leash.

Cash was relieved there wouldn’t be any strife over the firearm, though the tone of her voice certainly didn't sound as if the whole scenario was alright with her, but he wasn’t going to mince words. If he’d learned anything from his relationship with his ex-wife it was that when women finally dropped a subject of discontent it was best to leave it that way. Though he did find an odd sense of amusement pondering just what her reaction might have been if he were to share with her his anti-gun philosophy. Would it surprise her that he abhorred the use of firearms as much as she obviously did? The FN-HAR had been the product of an era in his life that had unfortunately made it something of a required tool driven by necessity and only necessity. Would she believe him if he told her that he pined for the days when his only weapon would be a well inked pen and a flash drive?

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Show us a candle burning.

A photo that may or may not appear in the materials for the next Dead Poets Society album.

I'd neglected to mention that I've joined the Alea Iacta Est role-playing guild on the Earthen Ring server of World of Warcraft this past week.

"Alea Iacta Est" is Latin for "The die has been cast". These words were reportedly uttered by Caesar when he crossed the Rubicon river with his troops on January 10th, of 49 BC on his return to Rome in complete defiance of the Roman Senate by refusing to disband his army outside of the city limits.  The Roman Senate had warned that such an action would be cause for War, thus the phrase.

The guild was founded by Scott Johnson host of the podcasts The Instance, Extra Life Radio, as well as his webcomic My Extra Life, and co-hosts Randy Deluxe and Andrew.

Other podcast founders and/or members
 include Veronica Belmont from CNET ( most notably the Buzz Out Loud Podcast), Len and Nora of Jawbone Radio, Brian Ibbot of the Coverville Podcast, members from the WoW Add-ons Podcast, and Leo Laporte of  TWiT.tv podcast network fame.

The guild is exploding in size. It has been loads of fun hanging out with similar minded, crazy and fun people who treat each other with respect and share incredibly sharp sense of intelligence and wit.

If you are a fan of our band or any of these podcasts/podcasters  feel free to drop by and check out the guild sometime.

Podshow as you may or may not know is the podcasting network founded by

former MTV VJ and Internet Service Provider founder Adam Curry.

Awhile back he and his business partner Ron Bloom created The Podsafe Network. The PodSafe Music Network, created and supported by PodShow, is a site that gives podcasters access to music that can be used without paying royalties to the recording industry. Podsafe music refers to music that is provided by artists or labels that control their own rights and who offer their music royalty-free for use within podcasts.

PodShow advocates and facilitates the production of podsafe music (music which can be used in podcasts without any licensing difficulties), by both independent and signed musicians, and its use and promotion by podcasters.

Yesterday I posted a few tracks from my band Dead Poets Society on the Pod Safe Music Network and was delighted to learn this morning that one of our

tracks "The Electric Haze" had already been selected and played in one of their their podcasts.

The Podcast in question was Bite Size Bonus with Green Dragon, (who happens to be a DJ that is pretty well known for collecting the "Greatest Hits You've Never Heard").  The set-list is truly great stuff.

We were honored to appear among the other 12 artists on the cast.

If you have or are thinking about creating your own podcast and would like to include some great independent music but don't want to have to worry about ASCAP, BMI or the RIAA coming after you, you can choose all the wonderful tracks you want at The Podsafe Music Network free of charge. You only have to agree to credit the artists and report their usage.

Video: Show us a scene from your favorite movie.
Submitted by Caroline.

One of my favorite scenes is the final five minutes of Dead Poets Society. If you haven't seen this movie about finding one's own voice amid the chaos of adolescence and expectation of society, then you should do yourself a favor and see it soon.

If you've been on Vox for awhile now you may have heard of Steve "Snowball" Saylor's podcast Audio-Vox. It is a program that explains and outlines some Vox tips while blogging, as well as sharing some insight about Snowball's daily goings on as an intern on the popular tech show Call for Help hosted by Leo Laporte and until recently by Amber MacArthur.

Well, I promised Snowball that I would produce a "sounder" on behalf of myself and my band Dead Poets Society. A sounder for those that are unware, is a radio term for a brief 15 second to 1 minute long clip for a show that promotes the show. Usually they are done by a notable celebrity, thus lending marketing power to the program. Now, I'm not sure what mine will offer to Snowball's podcast, but it was fun to do anyhow. Mine features my voice and a clip of our music backing me. I finally got around to completing this week and sent it off a couple of days ago to Snowball for consideration. I received a pleasant email this morning that it will most certainly air during Episode #006, which should  be released to the masses in the near future. So keep your eyes and ears open on Snowball's blog to see when Episode #006 is posted. That is, if you want to hear what Wa sounds like. I should warn you I was having a bunch of fun recording it and went a bit over the top with the radio voice.

I must confess I'm envious of Snowball's uber geek TWiT hoodie, not

to mention getting the opportunity to snuggle up in a photo with Amber MacArthur AND Cali Lewis at a recent meetup in Toronto!

*****

In other, more domesticated news, I recently discovered a radiator problem with my vehicle, so I took it in to my mechanic for an diagnosis. He looked it over and determined the source of the problem, which unfortunately meant replacing the radiator. A $700 affair. Now, just a couple of days later I've noticed another peculiar problem that feels like it could be a bad Fuel Pump, a clogged Fuel Filter, or a (knock on wood), bad transmission! So, its back to the mechanic for my baby. I'm hoping this vehicle doesn't bankrupt me before the end of the year! If you have any spare vehicle karma, please send me some my way, that is,  if you don't mind terribly.

My fiancee is a bit more miffed about the whole thing than I am. She has a hypothesis that when you take a vehicle to a mechanic they unscrupulously damage or recalibrate something in order to ensure repeat business. I'm not quite paranoid enough to believe that without proof to back it up but it does seem odd that I'd never experienced the problem until receiving the vehicle back from their "care" after this radiator replacement.

Director's film festival cut of "Synners" uploaded.

Back in April of 2003 we (Dead Poets Society) officially unveiled the "Synners" video to the public at the Parkdale Film Festival. That version contained nearly four minutes of footage that was cut for time in order to make it easier for the public to download the video and make it easier for broadcasters to show the video on programs and channels. Now, we've located the original Director's cut file and uploaded it to the web for your enjoyment.

In the extra four minutes you will see Raven Nightshado and I make expository appearances as well as an end credit sequence that is cued by "Drumeria" another original and unheard until now DPS track.

We apologize for the frame quality. Shooting was done on a primitive digital camcorder in 2002 and transferred at a lower than optimal range. We had hoped to make much better transfer, but unfortunately the original shooting files have since been lost.

Remixes and Rarities released and "Its Too Late" (dps mix) now available in 192kbps.

By popular demand, "Its Too Late (dead poets society mix)" is now available to listen and purchase at the higher fidelity bit rate of  192 kbps rather than the old 96kbps encoding. This means the song will sound far deeper and with more clarity than before. Check it out for yourself here. Purchase yourself a copy that is free of any DRM limits for only 75 cents. That is a higher bit rate than iTunes and 25% off of their price!

It has also been included on an exclusive mp3 CD we've created called "Remixes and Rarities" that compiles some of our better known remixes and rare songs for a measly $6.99. All tracks are Digital Rights Management free. This means you can archive the songs to as many of your computers as you wish. We only ask that you please do not make it available on P2P networks and that you do not burn copies for anyone other than yourself.

The following songs are available on "Remixes and Rarities":

 

1) Depeche Mode - I Feel Loved (dead poets society mix)

2) NIN - Only (Dead Poets Society mix)

3) Fire Bolt (performed live on our 2002 tour at the Zebra Lounge in Bozeman, Montana)

4) Minefield - After the Ball (Stark Raven Mad mix)

5) Hotboxed - Mohawk (our remix of the heavy metal classic from Hotboxed)

6) Collide - Halo (dead poets society mix)

7) Minefield - It's Too Late (dead poets society mix)

8) Madonna - Deeper and Deeper (dead poets society mix)

9) Minefield - After the Ball (dead poets society mix)

10) This Side of Forever

I just discovered that Vox allows us to link easily to our YouTube so I've added our music videos for "Synners" and "This Side of Forever" to the videos tab of this blog.

I hope to find a way to access a certain computer of mine that has the original files for both of those videos. Now that I have a better way of displaying them I would really like to get some higher quality transfers. Try to be kind regarding the current transfers, please?

I've also added a sample, albeit small, of my book collection and audio collection, including our albums we've released, 2001's The Electric Haze and 2002's companion Deprogramming. The song "Synners" can be found on Deprogramming if you are interested.

If you would like to hear some of our newer stuff, try checking out Dead Poets Society's Myspace page or if you would like to hear more of our past releases as well as rare remixes and releases, try checking out our Soundclick page.