With little over two weeks until Hallow’s Eve, we had all better start breathing in that sweet autumn air. After all, it is mid-October — but unlike Daryl Palumbo, I’m not ranting `bout most early May. I’m here to enjoy the OCTOBERFEAST for everything it’s worth (which, in case you haven’t realized, is quite a bit).

For some reason, I’ve always associated Glassjaw’s Ape Dos Mil with autumn. It is in all likelihood that the lyrical reference to October is responsible for the forming of this mental connection. However, the Literature major and overzealous nerd within compels me to further dissect Ape Dos Mil. In doing so, I’ve discovered  that the track is the musical manifestation of the spirit of autumn.

Yeah, it’s over.

You can bet in mid-October,

I will still be ranting ’bout early May.

Yeah he’s a winner,

He’s a goddamn sinner.

While he dines I’m on the wrong side of the day.

And I said, “I don’t understand why I’m fumbling after.”

You’re the reason I cannot forget this season

Or the letter when she first referred to eight.

And I said…

The lyrics suggest that the remorseful crooner is longing for the days of early May, when the relationship was still new and exciting. At first listen, it may seem as though the words being penned address the literal calendar month and perhaps the true beginnings of love. But it can be no coincidence that the described romance is worthwhile and flourishing in May, which just happens to be the quintessential month of spring — the season best known for ushering in a wholesale sense of life and vitality.

Ape Dos Mil’s narrator tells us that he is now well into mid-October and unable to stop dwelling on the beauty that was his relationship only five short months previously. On the other hand, this linear development also coincides with the sharp thematic contrast of spring and autumn. Just as the leaves are falling and the Earth reclaims all life, Ape Dos Mil paints the portrait of man in decay, the approaching of a personal winter.

While given the story from the perspective of the man who pulled the shortest straw, I think there is something to the notion that the narrator’s  enemy is succeeding because of his ability to transgress. In the aforementioned verse, the narrator pits himself against a rival lover, describing him as both a winner and a goddamn sinner. It is Daryl Palumbo’s delivery of these lyrics that make the listener feel absolute unease, maybe even disgust. How can this new figure succeed while sinning, falling far from the set standards of the ideal? The narrator’s frustration seeps out, noting  that he cannot even stand a chance against the most mundane actions of his former love’s latest beau; “While he dines I’m on the wrong side of the day.”

Taking a step back, it seems as though the protagonist of Ape Dos Mil is simply a spring type of guy — fixated on those times in which the new, refreshing and lively were generated. However, the goddamn sinner of the track is autumn — cast with the role of bringing about decay and eventual death. In truth, neither of these characters can be applauded or derided for their actions, as they as just fulfilling their prescribed duties. Similarly, the female love interest should not be disregarded as a flake or whore. Instead, she can be understood as the  cyclical seasons, the recognition that a changing of the guard must occur.

If you don’t buy into any of the above, don’t worry. You can still enjoy Ape Dos Mil as a somber tale of love that just happens to sound better on an October evening.

Should you find yourself not enjoying the song, at least watch the video without the sound. It’s got creepy clowns, depictions of strange sexual practices and voyeurism — perfectly fitting into OCTOBERFEAST!

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It has come to my attention that Six and Boomer from Battlestar Galactica are in Maxim this month to promote the upcoming Battlestar on SyFy and Digital Video Disc. There’s really no need to say anything else. Go look at the pictures. You’re welcome.

I haven’t played Uncharted 2 in a day, and I’m beginning to get the tremors. I got to play with her for three hours yesterday, and I think about her longingly. I blame tutoring, sleeping too late, and being a general loser.

I remember that during the ad campaign for Gears of War, the game was described as having “beautiful destruction”. I thought it just had jacked dudes blowing up other WWF washouts. I dug the game, but there was nothing beautiful about it.

Uncharted 2? This son of a bitch is beautiful. Running through the war torn streets of Nepal, I felt a little guilty. I was just rocking the camera back and forth, trying to fit everything into the frame. Every little demolished bit of pavement was gorgeous. I shouldn’t be marveling at how beautiful a street littered with bodies can be, but I was.

I keep rambling about the graphics, but they’re more than just pretty pixels. It’s engrossing. It sucks you onto that streetscape.

And yeah, it would be nothing, without the gameplay. Fortunately for me, my last save is just after one of the craziest fucking action sequences I’ve ever seen. Spoilers after the jump.

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I take pride in the fact that OCTOBERFEAST is an event in which everyone can participate. The FEAST doesn’t discriminate — any fool daring enough to step into its camp grounds is eagerly swallowed alive. Male, female, gay, straight, blind, elderly, mentally challenged, Chinese, Native American, rich or poor — OCTOBERFEAST consumes all.

Today, a less fortunate contingent of the revelers is being represented. I know in my heart of hearts that all you sorry sons of bitches without an adequate allowance know about this treat…

KRACKEL

The KRACKEL is a bar of chocolate enveloping tasty, crispy wafers of rice. First and foremost, the candy is dang delectable. Also, the rice in the bar produce a fun *crunch* with each bite. Yeah, it’s the *crunch* that really defines the KRACKEL, setting it apart from all other Halloween goodies.

Except the much more beloved & recognizable Crunch bar. Oh shit.

Think about it — have you ever heard somebody say, “Damn, I could really go for a KRACKEL right now”? Invariably, the answer is “No.” If anyone craved such a chocolate delectable, she/he would go buy a Nestle Crunch.

Thinking on it now, I’m not even sure that I’ve ever seen a full-bar version of the Poor Man’s Crunch. Could it be possible that Mr. Hershey is so strapped for cash that he can only produce fun-size KRACKEL? Truthfully, I can only recall eating the candy when it was part of my Trick-or-Treating loot or included in a candy grab-bag.

Maybe I’ve mischaracterized the KRACKEL as an outcast; the sad, pimple-faced fat kid crying in the corner of the middle school dance while macho CRUNCH bumpz-n-grindz with Kit Kat. Instead, maybe our crispy friend is just misunderstood; he’s the artistic weirdo who just needs to be given a chance to flourish.

I say fuck the `ole standards. This year, go out of your way to eat a KRACKEL. You don’t need to become politically aware or start recycling or donate time to a charity or help out at a soup kitchen…if you eat a KRACKEL before the end of OCTOBERFEAST you are guaranteed a spot in Heaven.

Oh, and remember not to wolf it down. Savor the candy bar, as demonstrated in the video below:

I’ve documented my love for the women of Mad Men throughout this blog. Usually I’m waxing philosophic about the curves of Christina Hendricks. But I suppose I can give it up for the American Dream Ideal of this one January Jones, if it involves the actress playing that rocking an insane amount of cleavage.

Well done, Mrs. Draper.

A dude I went to high school with and a bunch of his friends have apparently filmed a movie. Fucking crazy. As a dude who spends his time desperately wanting even a minimal amount of recognition for toiling with the word, I can only do a solid by passing along word of his movie. The movie’s called Self Helpless, and apparently it’s showing at a bunch of film festivals and shit. Well done. You can check out the trailer after the jump.

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I stole this picture of Pepsibones today while he was drumming. His kit is above our family’s garage, and so he usually enters the loft to rock the fuck out. I initially wanted to ask him a question, but seeing him in the middle of a rock session, I didn’t want to intrude.

I’m a big fan of this shitty picture for several reasons. First, my brother is god damn amazing at the drums, but he doesn’t have much time to play them between school and student teaching. So whenever I hear his heavy metal thunder echoing across our yard, it generally brings a smile to my face. You know, just hearin’ him do his thang. And secondly, I love the fact that he’s drumming out in his dress pants and dress shirt. It’s dapper as hell. It’s metal meets GQ.

As intimated in previous post, OCTOBERFEAST is going to get pretty damn metal. Since its inception heavy metal has been identified as sharing genetic material with Halloween — a predilection for the occult, the subversion of the innocent and a profound respect for Satan. Of the metal family tree, the cousin most closely related to Hallow’s Eve would have to be DEATH METAL!

Hailing from the uber-metal Sweden, Opeth are goddamn masters of heavy metal. The mindchild of Mikael Akerfeldt, Opeth can alternatively play the heaviest shit imaginable and ballads that will make you weep. Unlike a lot of metal acts, Akerfeldt’s growls are balanced with a crooning sweet enough to lullaby a baby to sleep. With stylistic versatility, musical virtuosity and a knack for tune-crafting, Opeth are in a league of their own.

Yes, these Swedish rockers are capable of holding their own against the songwriters of most genres. But this is OCTOBERFEAST, so I’m going to focus in on Opeth’s ability to conjure the Devil. In fact, I’m fairly certain that The Grand Conjuration is about just such a divinely-defiant act.

The Grand Conjuration is the seventh track of Ghost Reveries, a loose concept album [arguably] about one man’s emotional distress after killing his own mother.  This track in particular  seems to be some sort of an appeal to the Dark Lord himself.

The hands of Satan
Assembling his flock.
Pale horse rider
Scouring the earth.

Whispered conjuration –
A belief takes form.
Choking hand tapping
The veins in your throat.

His orders in your mouth
A decree for domination.
Beneath the tides of wisdom
Spins the undertow of hate.

I’m not 100% sure what the above lyrics mean, but I know that they’re fucking evil. I can just picture a dark priest from a Stephen King novel reciting those lines as he prepares to sacrifice a school bus of Girl Scouts.

As an added bonus, the music video for The Grand Conjuration is a perfect treat for any OCTOBERFEAST evening. In addition to the standard “dudes in an empty warehouse” motif, the video features trash-can fires, rats, and interrogations conducted by a creep who looks like a  cross between Zorro and Frank Miller’s The Spirit (yes — Frank Miller’s, not Will Eisner’s).

Also, because Gene Hoglan was touring with Opeth at the time he makes an appearance. An automatic +5 points.

I’m not sure if the Devil listens to music. But if He does, I’d like to think He’s an Opeth fan.

Fuck Paul Pierce, Uncharted 2 is the truth. I’ve played the game for about three hours this morning. And? Impressions?

First off, Nathan Drake has stunning neck hair. Most dudes know neck hair. It grows way faster than your regular hair. Mine seems to grow at roughly four-times the speed of my regular hair. And so every two weeks I make Pepsibones or my girlfriend shave it off with my Mach 17-Powerglide or whatever my razor happens to be.

Why is it even worth mentioning? The level of detail in Uncharted 2 is stunning. Naughty Dog has paid attention to all the little nuances that make this game absolutely gleam. I mean, seriously, they’ve spent enough time to give Drake neck hair. It isn’t even something I’d even think to incorporate.

Check out the characters in cut scenes. Especially the ones who aren’t speaking. They move their fingers, they shift their weight, their facial expressions are minimal but apparent.

Everything is ridiculously polished, every scene seems to be taken with exceptional care.

And secondly, I am really digging the way they’ve constructed the narrative. They’ve taken the J.J. Abrams’ special and incorporated it into a video game. You know the one I’m talking about – they start the character in the middle of a catastrophe, and then they cut back to the very beginning of the tale. It’s very reminiscent of how ODST was told, but I’m more impressed with its use in this title. Why? I think it’s because the lynch pin of the “current” moment was the faceless Rookie. Whereas in Uncharted 2, it’s a bloodied, destroyed Nathan Drake in the middle of some frozen tundrea.

I think the game begins with Drake saying, “This is my blood. This is lots of my blood.” Immediately I was snagged. Where the fuck is he, how the fuck did he get there, and why is he bleeding profusely.

Thirdly, the dialogue is great. The interaction between Drake and Sully is so generic buddy-adventure, but it’s done so well.

More as I play through this sexy collection of polygons. If you own a PS3 you owe it to your fun glands to snag this title.