The Test of Time

I've been thinking about something recently...more specifically, about how that with the ever-increasing technological capabilities of the human race, the shorter the life span of that technology gets, and how long our society would be remembered through what we leave behind gets.

Archeologists are still finding stone tablets with writing more than 10,000 years after they were created, yet the lifespan of a recorded data CD-R is roughly a decade under optimal conditions. If we were to go extinct, how long would our society leave an noticeable impression on Mother Earth?

It seems that the longer time goes on and the more advanced we become, the more meaningless our actions become.

I came upon these thoughts after speaking to my father about how he should back up his old discs of vacation pictures soon, and then yesterday (On my first ever day of work in a garage) when I was helping take apart a Land Rover and thought about that for how complex a vehicle is, it will rejoin the earth in, give or take a few years, a century.

I'm not sure if I can really explain anymore about this at the moment, because it's still something that's on my mind. I guess this is even more of a reason to go and do something that will be meaningful and memorable through history.

And even more so, I guess this could be a good song.

The Music Industry

It's something I've been paying attention to a lot recently. Most people that follow music even in the slightest know that record sales have declined massively since the advent of Napster (And a few could argue that the quality of what we're buying has gone down as well as originality - but that's for another time) and some artists are choosing to go independent of labels and release their music online, before you can even buy a physical copy in stores.

I can think of three bands that have done this so far:

*Radiohead - Their album "In Rainbows" was released with a "Pay Any Price" option for the album -from $0 to millions, if so you chose.

* Nine Inch Nails - "Ghosts I-IV" had the option of letting you download the first 9 tracks out of 36 for free, then had a myriad of options for purchasing the album in different formats and packaging. Then, in May, Reznor released "The Slip" as a completely free download - meaning you could get every song without any strings attached.

* Girl Talk - Released the album "Feed The Animals" with the same tactic as Radiohead - pay what you want. If you chose $0, you were asked to select from a list of options why you decided not to pay.

With the major record labels losing money faster than ever, it leaves me wondering what they will try next in order to keep their bank accounts from hitting zero. With so many new methods of cheaper and more efficient methods of distribution, will they resort to jacking up concert ticket prices? Or will they do what The Eagles did with "Long Road Out of Eden", and sign exclusive deals with large chain stores so that the music can only be purchased at those locations?

Releasing music for free through the internet can also offer up a benefit to more local, small-time bands and musicians. With the extra attention they get for going the free or pay any price route, there we always be people that are not fans but will download the music because of it's "price". The band is now reaching a wider audience, and is likely to gain more fans through curiosity. Of course, this is only an option for these bands and musicians if they feel they have a big enough fan base so that they can still make enough money from touring to continue recording and booking arenas.

Musicians make more money from touring than actual record sales, anyway. Source Considering that after the label gets their cut from a CD, and after packaging, promotion, and whatnot, there's not a whole lot left to be split between the actual performers, so obviously if you're paying $50 for a concert over $12 for a CD, you're definitely supporting the artist more than a CD. (Not that the extra revenue is bad)

All I can say for sure that I'm liking the future of the industry. The days where paying for music is mandatory seem to be coming to a close, and music will soon be more accessible to the masses than ever before.

Thirst For Hunger, my brother's muscial outlet

http://www.myspace.com/thirstforhunger

I think this deserves a post. My brother is a small-time musician who released a great album called "Seasons: Silence And Seclusion Vol II". He's got a bunch of the songs from it on his Myspace page, and if you like, buy the album.

July 6th, 2008. A new blog is born.

So I've started a new blog today. I've never been good at keeping one of these things, because usually I forget my password to them after a week and never care enough to update it anyway. And, that will probably happen again, but hey, I'm going to enjoy it while it lasts. I had the inkling to create this out of boredom, and I'm sure posting music reviews and news articles (And whatever else I throw in) in Myspace bulletins is, well, almost useless. So now I have a post to bitch about this, talk about music, bore you with the things I've done or will do, etcetera, etcetera.

My name is Michael, and thanks for reading.

The Station (Zombie Fiction)

Tommy, Dean, and Christopher are standing around a female lying on the floor. Tommy is holding a small snub-nosed revolver. The woman had just been shot in the head because bullets to the heart and lungs did not bring her down, or even faze her. This woman had just tried to kill them all, and succeeded in taking a sizable chunk out of Chris’ abdomen. It was now exactly a week after the four, now three, had become trapped in the radio station they had worked at for years. The three men walk solemnly over to a small desk the moved into the studio, and all take a seat around it.

“That’s what happens when we try and leave…you just fuckin’ saw it with your own two eyes.” He lets out a long sigh, and brushes his hair out of his face. “We missed the evacuation team a few days back, and now the city is locked down and there ain’t a single goddamned way to get out of it. Is everyone else catching my drift here?” He picked the table off the table and placed it at his table, mimicking the sound of a gunshot. “Only way, guys.”

They all looked around the room, from the consoles, computers, and microphones and then to each other. Chris clutched his deep bite, then hobbled over to the window and looked out.
was desolate, now. Just a week ago this street was packed with traffic, blaring horns, and people busily walking to and fro. Now, the few cars still left outside with dead, likely to never move from their respective spots again. The ground was pockmarked with scorches, the walls with bullet holes. Bodies were all around. In just a week the thin veil of society broke down into an animalistic nightmare of desperation. He went back over to his friends, looked Tommy in the eyes, and said “Me first.”

Three gunshots resounded through the studio, each followed by a small pause. And then, the studio fell quiet one last time.

1 Week Ago

Saturday, June 6^th, 2009

10:00 AM

“Alright, that was Screaming Hed Cheeze, with their new single ‘Why Can’t This

Be a Dream’. After the break, we have a great selection of songs comin’ at you from all the hottest local bands, sponsored by the upcoming Blast-Off Music Festival! We’d also like to remind you to stay safe out there, and wash your hands frequently. Don’t wanna catch that nasty flu that’s going around!”

Dean “Diamond” Richardson takes off his pair of headphones and places them on his desk. On it sits his portable AM/FM radio, which is always tuned to CLRB, the station where he works. While the show is on and not playing commercials, the radio plays the exact same thing he is saying or the song that’s playing, creating a weird echo effect that he, for some strange reason, loves.

Today traffic is light for Chicago, and Christopher looks out the small window. The station is a total of two stories tall, the 2^nd being the floor the actual studio is set up in, with the 1^st being the business section of the building.

A man suddenly comes barging into the studio, a slight sheen of sweat on his forehead. He is holding a piece of paper with just five lines on it in his right hand, a cigarette in his left.

“No songs after the break. Just read this, it’s probably the most important thing you’ll do in your entire worthless lives.” He hands the paper over to Chris, and then nearly runs out of the studio.

Christopher looks down at the paper, eyebrow raised at the frantic display. However, as his brain computes the information, his heart jumps into his throat. Dean and Tommy both were a little pissed by that guy’s ‘observation’ of their ‘worthless lives’.

“C’mon, let’s get ready. Commercials are almost over and we really have to read this.”

Chris sat back down at his station, and then hit the microphone button.

“We’re sorry for the interruption, but CLRB would like to bring you a special announcement, something we very rarely do here. Tommy, would you like to read?”

Tommy looked over at him and whispered, “What the fuck is wrong that you don’t want to read it, man? What’s so bad?” Chris just stared at him, and Tommy got the point. “Fine, man.”

Chris handed the paper over, then turned his head toward the window and waited for Tommy to read.

“Due to a recent outbreak of a flu-like disease, the U.S. military has announced that they are quarantining the entire state of Illinois.” He jumped a little in his chair, obvious that he was shocked. He leaned over and whispered, “There’s no way in hell an entire state needs to be quarantined over a flu, right? This better be a prank!”

“After 5:00 P.M. CDT, residents of Illinois will not be allowed to leave the state, and any persons attempting to will be shot on sight. There will also be a strict 5:00 P.M. curfew; violators will be arrested without question. We regret to resort to such measures, but the current outbreak has left us with little choice. We will keep you all in our prayers, and Godspeed to you all.”

Tommy turned the microphone off, and hung his head over it for a moment. Then, in a split second, he picked it up and launched it at the window, smashing it and sending glass raining down on the street.

“What the fuck?!” His voice reverberated through the studio, and then Tommy began to trash the room, picking up a chair and almost tossing it at a computer that, without it, would cause them to not be able to broadcast. In retrospect, Chris never should have tackled him to the floor.

“Calm down, you calm down right this second! Jesus Christ, I thought I was bad, but you just topped the charts. We’re still on air, too, you fuck wit, so pray you didn’t break anything important.” All the while Chris had a white-knuckled grip on Tommy’s collar, nose to nose with the man. “And why are you so angry? It’s the flu, not Smallpox.” Chris released his grip and let Tommy stand up, and as they walked back to their stations, he said, “I was going to see my mother tomorrow morning. She lives over in Indiana, and it’s kind of been a while since I’ve last seen her. It’s a long story, but we were at each other’s throats for a while.”

Dean, still sitting at his chair after watching Tommy’s fit with a slight amusement, “What should we do?”

“What do you mean?” Tommy and Chris reply at the same time.

“Well, our shift doesn’t end until six, so we’re going to be stuck here at least for tonight. So what I mean is, should we stay here or attempt to get back home, and probably wind up arrested?”

“Oh. Well…I’m staying here.” Tommy says.

“Me too. I hate cops.” Chris chuckles a bit. “Should we start broadcasting again? I wanna check with the sound guy for a moment before we do.”

“Why’s that?” Dean asks.

“So he can tell me if anything got fucked up, of course. I mean, it didn’t look like Tommy did much, but better safe than sorry.”

“Uh, sure. I mean, we’ve already been silent for a few minutes. Another one won’t hurt much.”

Christopher left the room.

“Visiting your mother, eh? Is that true or were you just bullshitting your way out of an ass-kicking?”

“Nah, it’s true. She never got over the fact that I joined the Army without dad and hers permission, and every time I’ve seen her since she’s barely spoken a word to me. I figure that, she’s not getting any younger, you know? I should try to make peace with her before too much more time passes.”

“Well, looks like you’ll be waiting a bit longer, depending on how long this stupid quarantine lasts. Man, this whole thing reminds me of The Stand. The flue, the quarantine…”

Tommy chuckled a bit, and then said “Yeah well, quit reading your little books, man. I never read it but I’m still pretty sure the world ended in it or something.”

“Yeah, I guess you’re right. Still, I’m wondering how bad it is, anyway. I don’t know anyone that’s been sick recently, so I have no clue what the symptoms could be or anything.”

“I do, though. My wife’s been pretty sick after some guy bit her a few days back. Been in bed all last night with a horrible fever, and she can’t talk anymore. More like just groaning.”

“Man, why are you even here this morning then? Between your mother and sick wife, you’d think a man would stay home and take care of things.”

“While she was still talking she pretty much forced me to come in today. Said something like ‘You shouldn’t be waiting on me hand and foot, blah blah blah.’ They say hell hath no fury like a woman scorned, so why should I make her pissed off at me in the middle of being sick as a dog?”

“True…” Dean paused for a second to scratch his chin, a slight hint of stubble on it. “That’s really weird though. Flu victims don’t get sick from being bitten, usually just from touching something some other sick bastard touched, or getting sneezed on or something.”

“Hm, you’re right, but I don’t really want to talk about it anymore. I think I hear Chris coming back, anyway.”

“Everything’s fine. But, he did tell me that we’re going to go off-air for about an hour. Something about an employee meeting. We got to meet in the break room in ten minutes.”

Saturday, June 6^th, 2009

10:30 AM

The break room is a small, dingy, and God awfully lit little room. There’s stains of unknown origin on the carpet, some tiny pieces of glass laying around, and it just smells overall. However, the seating arrangements (Consisting of a couch and loveseat, along with four chairs that surround a blue plastic table) are quite comfortable, and the vending machines are always stocked.

The head of the station sits tensely at one of the chairs around the table, while Tommy, Dean, and Chris sit at the other three. The rest of the staff sit either on the loveseat, couch, or are standing around.

“I had no clue about this quarantine until the fax came across the wire. I’m just as shocked as the rest of you, and anyone that wants to go home can. Anyone that wants to stay is still on the clock. Plus, you’ll have to work double to make up for anyone that does leave. Who’s going home?”

Several of the lackeys (Janitors, errand boys, etc) raise their hands, and then the Head waved them out of the room. “Stay safe, guys.”

“Now, the rest of you, since you’re staying, you’re still getting paid. But you gonna have to do all the shit they did, too, besides your normal duties. Now chop chop, we got a station to run!”

Saturday, June 6^th, 2009

2:00 P.M.

Things were starting to get a little crazy around and outside the station. Several people had already tried to break in; one of them which succeeded bit one of the remaining janitors on the arm. He was almightily pissed, but he managed to get the guy out of the building and locked the door.

Tommy, Dean, and Chris were on break, with Jack, a jockey who only worked a few days out of the week, ran the show. Whenever he was in all three of them could sit down and relax a bit during the day.

The three of them have known each other for a good while, roughly ten years, despite the age differences between them. Tommy was thirty-four, Dean twenty seven, and Chris nearly forty. There was a bond between them which only came with the time and being co-workers for so long, and they could usually say anything to each other without worrying that the other would think they were stupid, or crazy, or whatever else normal friends would say to them.

The trio was in the break room, playing a small arcade machine that was often forgotten in one of the corners of the room. They were all taking turns trying to beat each other’s scores, not paying attention to much else. The TV was on though, and when “Friends” turned into a special report, they all turned around simultaneously, like a slap-stick comedy.

“We’d like to bring you an update on the government’s decision to quarantine Chicago.” The camera panned across a convoy of green-and-black of trucks, which got smaller as one or two trucks turned off on different roads. The camera caught a quick glimpse of armed soldiers in the back, under the truck’s canvas covering.

“As you can see behind me, government vehicles and troops have been arriving in Chicago for the past fifteen minutes, and spreading out through Chicago. There have also been sporadically increasing reports of both violent and monetary crimes throughout the city, which, coupled with the military presence, has some residents feeling spooked on this otherwise lovely Saturday. Back to you, Amanda.”

“Oh, wow. Another day in paradise, eh?” One the men said.

“We should’ve just went home, I don’t feel like being here while we have a crime wave slash quarantine slash whatever.” Says Dean.

“Oh, grow up, man.” Tommy chuckled, “Besides, what possible reason could someone have for breaking into a radio station and killing somebody? Not too much to steal here, either.”

“Yeah…I’m just kind of nervous. I mean, after the janitor got his arm bitten today, I’ve just been weirded out, y’know? The military being here isn’t making me feel much better anyway.”

Tommy put an arm around his scared friend, and said, “If anything, it should make you feel safe. The military is here to keep us safe, not the other way around.” Chris also came over after swearing at the game machine, and said, “Everything’s gonna be better by tomorrow, I’ll bet you a $20 on that. Now come on, we have to get back to work before we lose our jobs.”

The three were walking down the hallway, back to the broadcast room. They were almost there, when they saw someone lying on the floor down the hallway by the bathrooms. They sped up from a leisurely walk to a jog, and found that it was the janitor. He was an old man, maybe mid-seventies, and he might’ve broken a hip or something.

However, his face was ghostly pale, and his lips were cracked and bloody. His short-sleeve shirt revealed that the bite on his arm was purple, with the skin around it looking dead and in the early stages of decay. (Not that any of the three men knew what that early stage really looked like)

“Hey, hey man, what happened?! What’s wrong with you?!” Tommy shouted, patting the janitor’s face gently. He didn’t stir; not a muscle moved. Tommy kept shaking and yelled, “Help! Someone help! The janitor…um…” Tommy looked down at his name tag and said, “Dave’s on the ground, and he’s not moving! Help!” Meanwhile, Chris and Dean were running off in different directions. “Where are you two going? Help me with him!”

Right as the last word passed Tommy’s lips, the old man’s eyes shot open, and he took a giant, wheezing breath. He looked at Tommy, and he saw that his eyes had a weird quality to them…glazed, looked kind of like a dead fish’s eye.

“Oh my God, are you okay? Here, let me help you up.” Dave lunged off the ground, bowling Tommy over and into the wall before he could react. Dave picked Tommy up and banged him against the wall, snarling in his face. “Holy shit, are you crazy man?!” Dave was seemingly trying to bite Tommy, with his mouth drifting back over to the area of his jugular vein every time it was pushed away. All this in a matter of seconds, from an old man that had just previously been out cold after a fall.

Dean and Chris rushed over and pulled Dave off of their friend, both spinning around and holding his arms while he kicked and snarled. “Go get help, now!” Chris snarled at Tommy, trying to contain the man.