Hi, Greg Spanish here...

So, I played my first show as the bassist for Walken on Friday night in Machesney Park at the Frontline, and... it was awesome. In retrospect, it was an immensely enjoyable experience that was full of promise and delivered tons of good vibes to the audience, but during the performance and immediately following it, I felt terrible and was really down on myself, because my bass was out of the tune during the vast majority of the show. Consequently, I felt as though I was failing to deliver on my promise as the newest addition to Walken and that I was kind of dragging their good name in the mud through my crappy performance. The fact that people really enjoyed the gig didn't change much, so I was uncharacteristically morose for probably about a half hour, until Zach hunted me down and gave me a good pep talk and I wanted to weep because he pumped me back up so much, so I bounced back and we were hardcore dancing through the final band's set. For being a straight-up hardcore punk group, they were pretty enjoyable, as cliched as they were. Anyways, I can now look at all those sour notes I played and laugh, and enjoy the fact that we gave an exciting performance with good songs. Furthermore, our visual aspect surprised me as regards how good it turned out. We all wore suits, and we had the house lights turned off and subsequently decked the stage with multi-colored Christmas lights, and set up a glowing snowman near my bass cabinet; all told, it was cooler than maybe it sounds like it should have been.
The following morning found me volunteering at the Salvation Army during the basketball tournament that was being held there; for the most part I prepared food and sold concessions, but Zach and I sold tickets for a while near the end. I dug that experience a ton, so I told them to call me whenever they needed help. Afterward, I steam vaccuumed the upstairs carpet and gave the puppies baths (GROSS!) before the crew showed up. We played Poker for a while, and watched the video of Friday's show, and talked about KISS (or rather, the Shaw's proclivity to yell "Nope!" and how heinous statements about KISS will bait him). Zach and Shaw ended up spending the night and we made fajitas at 3 in the morning, after Zach went to Burger King to get his 7th Tender Crisp of the week. SICK! We finally went to sleep around four after laughing for far too long at "We will behead it and bestow it upon you!" The character of Greg Spanish was created after I quoted Erin Stamm's brilliant line "Mi amo Espanol," and Zach improvised this riff about rednecks and... Good Lord, I don't even remember all of it. I'm sure he'll fill you in after he discovers this.
I woke up abour 5 hours later to get ready for church with Kristin and felt absolutely terrible. Well, until I donned my killer suit, that is. There was a pretty short service from a visiting evangelist who had a broken hand and an intense Southern drawl with bits of lisp (I really shouldn't be laughing about that), and then we had lunch and discussed how her sister used to be a centaur and smoked her noggin against the sidewalk a couple years ago and made a funny sound. Then I had my very first sub sandwhich later that evening before Cell at Jenny G's house (the sub was all right, but Super Mario Bros. 3 was tremendously more killer) where we discussed joy, as well as black holes and time travel for whatever reason. I also obtained a single volume edition of The Chronicles of Narnia from Jon, as I have somehow never read those books, which is really weird, since I've virtually everything else that C.S. Lewis wrote. Speaking of which, Thursday night was C.S. Lewis night at Leadership Cell at Paul and Barb's house, so I donned my killer suit once more and read an essay about Lewis' life and read a passage from Surprised by Joy. That was a digression, but my mind operates on tangents, so it's all right. By the way, tangentially, I finally saw Garden State and it was pretty killer, so I recommend that everyone see it, though I'm not sure it'll change your life quite as much as the Shins will.
I really have to go now, though, else all the million things I have to do today will never get done. Thanks for listening, and don't stop rocking.

Love,
Ian

Chomp!

Hello, everyone. Before I attempt part one of a dissertation on Atlantis, I want everyone to know that I purchased the coolest suit EVER on Sunday night. That's right. Coolest suit ever. Me. Zach and Jon and I went to Goodwill on Sunday before Cell to look for slacks and whatnot for upcoming Walken gig this Friday, and I gravitated towards this dark brown three-piece suit upon the rack and was immediately delighted at its AWESOME quotient. I tried it on and it fit PERFECTLY, so I sincerely believe that I was meant to find it. And it looks so killer! I suppose it's vaguely reminiscent of Napoleon Dynamite, though that wasn't the idea. However, I did play up the Napoleon-isms when I found it. "It's amazing... it's incredible!" So I wore it out of Goodwill and into the night and have been the happiest boy in the world since. I even ordered some brown dress shoes to accompany it on Monday, so it's gonna be k-i-l-l-e-r! I swear you will be envious upon witnessing the majesty that is my new suit. Holla!
Now, with that aside, let's talk about Atlantis. Everyone and their mother knows that Plato first discussed Atlantis in his work Timaeus, saying that he found the story in the records of his ancestor Solon, who in turn heard it from the Egyptians. Solon was an emissary to Egypt a century or so before Plato's time who discovered much of the history of the world from them. The Egyptians were shocked at the brevity of the Greeks' sense of history; "O Solon," their chief historian said, "you Greeks are children." Solon afterward recorded the story of Atlantis, which was (summarily) as follows:
About 12,000 years earlier, a great continent the size of Asia and Libya combined existed beyond the Straits of Hercules. This nation was called Atlantis and it had many colonies spread throughout the world and was the strongest and most advanced marittime culture in the world. It was said to exist in the "One True Ocean" of which the Mediterranean was "but a bay," and "all the surrounding continent" formed a circle around it.
The Atlanteans were subjugating the many nations of the Meditteranean until only Athens and her small circle of allies were left unconquered. After a defeat at the hands of the Athenians, Atlantis sunk below the waves, leaving only a few survivors who sailed to their various colonies and reigned afterwards as kings.
Now, if you look beyond Plato's claims that Atlantis was founded by the sons of Poseidon and a few other mystical msih-mash details, a very sober account is left of the history of a lost civilization. Furthermore, there is lots of evidence to support Plato's conceptualization of Atlantis.
To begin with, every culture around the world has a myth regarding the inundation of the Earth with water; contiguously, most of the myths concern the fall of a major island civilization located in the Ocean, and how this civilization introduced new concepts of art and science to less advanced cultures.
One need only look at the legend of the Mayans, who believed in an island called Aztalan in the Atlantic who taught the Mayans the arts of civilization. What's more, these men were white, with blond hair and blue eyes. One further odd note, the syllable atl (as in "Atlantis") isn't a Greek syllable, but a Mayan one, meaning "water."
One can also tell through even passing examination that the art and architecture of the Egyptians, various South American Indian cultures, and the Chinese are hauntingly similar. This has led many researchers to suggest a "Diffusion Theory," wherein the parent civilization of Atlantis informs the intellectual achievements of other cultures so greatly that these traits are found in all cultures surrounding the original parent civilization. What's more is that there is evidence of naval trade in an era where our ancestors (according to dogmatic historians) should still have been living in huts without the written word, much less conducting commerce and sailing. One need only look at the "Cocaine mummies" of Egypt to find further evidence that trade was conducted by very ancient peoples.
Another interesting and challenging fact is that it has been discovered that human beings have been mining for precious metals in Southern Africa for 800,000 years! If the current model of history is true, who are these people that are searching for mineral deposits that in theory they should be able to do nothing with?
In short, the newest theories regarding Atlantis that are based upon sober archaeology and the examination of legend is hampered by one thing: the entrenched dogma of most mainstream historians, who will argue until they're blue in the face that civilization (i.e. national government, advanced architecture, written records, money, etc.) did not exist before the Sumerians in 3500 B.C., though this is clearly not the case; these same historians have had to grudgingly admit that Jericho is the world's oldest surviving city, dating from 8,000 B.C.
Countless South American cultures talk of white "gods" who came from the sea to the East from a lost island kingdom who civilized them. The chief of these "gods" was Woden, who had blond hair and blue eyes. Concurrently, the chief god of the ancient Germans and Scandinavians was Wodan, who became Odin. These cultures also believed in a lost island kingdom called Thule from whence came their own races.
Until later in the 20th Century, no one knew that the ancient Chinese built pyramids, but they were discovered in the region of White China, thousands of years old and abandoned. They were eerily similar to the Egyptian pyramids and were actually larger; no one knows who exactly built these monuments. However, it is known they are built on a sacred site. A sacred site is a location which ancient peoples deemed to be holy and sacred. Many mysterious megaliths and monuments are built on these sacred sites, which in turn fall on 5 degree demarcations from Giza, which is believed to be the ancient world's Prime Meridian. The researcher Rand Flem-Ath believes that these sites were constructed by Atlanteans to measure the shifting of the Earth's crust; after the fall of Atlantis, less advanced cultures did not understand their purpose, and began to worship at these sites, believing them to be built by the gods.
If I continue writing now, the post is gonna look all screwy, so I'll continue this dissertation tomorrow or the next evening, and show what Plato really meant by "the size of Asia and Libya combined," amongst other things. Hope you enjoyed part one!

Love,
Ian

P.S. My stupid puppies ate my can of goldfish food. Just so you understand the enomity of this, they ate not only the goldfish food, but THE FRICKIN' CAN, TOO. What a bunch of jerks.
P.P.S. Listen to "The Discovery of a World Inside the Moone" by the Apples in Stereo, it's only one of the coolest albums ever! Whoa-oh, scoo-oots!

Who cares?! It's good!!!

Well, I was about as sick as a proverbial dog (or a literal one; take your pick) this week, and I've gathered all the leads and can definitively point to Jon Taube as the source of all of my woe! Well, maybe not all of it, but certainly a significant amount of woe is due to Jon Taube! My brother and I had lunch with him and Mona on Valentine's Day, and Jon took a sip from both me and my brother's drinks; I figured it was harmless since he couldn't possibly be contagious anymore, but look at who's sick now! DANG YOU, JON TAUBE!
So basically, Nate and I were sick all week, and I even ended up missing my studio class on Wednesday and the first half of Thursday. Luckily, I recovered enough mana to make it to my Sound Design class that evening with Brad. I showed him my foley projects I did last semester in Pro Tools. You have no idea how awesome those are until you can witness them yourselves, people. During the class itself we talked about additive synthesis (which is just a fancy way of saying "making a synthesizer sound by building up each of the individual 20,000 harmonics in that sound;" it's one of those theoretically possible, but ultimately unfeasible and even insanity-inducing things you hear about all the time) and each member of the class had to devise a sound effect for a minute long segment of the classic film Metropolis. I got the sound of the robot taking on Maria's physical features; I killed that sucker.
I went up to Milwaukee last night on an absolute whim, really, to check out "J.B." and I gotta tell ya, it was a pretty sweet show. Conrad Birdie makes a pretty good Satan. Or... is Conrad Birdie Satan?!?!?! He's everywhere! He's everywhere!
Afterwards, Shawn, Shanna, Jenny and I went to Domino's (since all the classier joints were closing) and feasted like kinds and queens. I got back to Janesville at about 1:30, but found that an early morning Walken practice was called for (it makes sense, we have a show on this Friday and I'm the new guy) so we ripped that for a couple hours, as well as an impromptu cover of "Eye of the Tiger." I don't care what any of you have to say, that song rules.
That's about it, really. I'm still getting over my cold/illness/infection but I sound way better... I think... Erin's in town, so we're gonna paint the town a bright crimson and watch Airplane! (By the way, all movies would benefit from having exclamation points in their titles. Kudos, Brad.)
I guarantee you an Atlantis dissertation within the next 2-3 days, so: be ready. Either it's going to be fascinating, or you'll want to pull a Pullman and off yourself right there. Hopefully it's the former.

Love,
Ian

P.S. Pig Destroyer frickin' rule the world with an iron fist! The Apples in Stereo reign over the Earth, spreading joy and harmony. They both dominate, though.

No, Donny, These Men Are Nihilists

Grind!
Well, I've successfully completed my first week back at school, and I gotta tell you, I'm diggin' it. The classes, I mean; not having to get up for classes that start at say, 8:00 in the morning. That's a bit on the weaker side of things, especially in light of the fact that I have a studio class running 8 hours until 1:00 in the morning. Even so, my classes are immensely enjoyable and I already know I'm going to learn tons from each of them.
I have Advanced Pro Tools on Tuesday morning, and my partner for the semester is one of my teachers, Mr. Biff Blumfumgagne, which is one the raddest things ever. Biff is also my teacher for History of Contemporary Music on Friday, which is gonna be a blast. Talking about music for two hours and listening to stuff I bring to class? Get outta here, that's gonna dominate.
Wednesday is my studio class, where each week we have an honest-to-God studio session with a band, and have to deliver results. Very cool. I am the master of mic determining and placement, and I'm not too shabby with EQ'ing either. It's like I'm already a producer for 8 hours. Unless I'm the runner. Guess what I do then.
Thursday is Business English (at 10:00 AM; yikes!) which is gonna be butt-simple; it's just high school English all over again, right down to the book report due at the end of the semester.
After an hour break, I return for Applied Electronics, which is basically new to me, but I' making great strides, since I already know Ohm's Law and whatnot, so it's actually building circuitry which will be the challenge, but one which I look forward to.
After a two hour break, I finally have Sound Design, which is exactly what it sounds like. We use Reason and Digital Performer (and a couple other programs) to create and manipulate sounds for a multitude of purposes, not the least of which is foley, which I find that I'm awfully good at, and is endlessly fun to do. People go to ridiculous lengths to make sound effects for films, and the pursuit of ridiculity is one of my life's quests, so I'm really digging this class.
I get dropped off at the Dutch Mill Park and Ride at Arby's just off of Stoughton Road, so it's a mile walk from there to MMI, but I enjoy it, and let's face it: anymore, I could use it. It also allows me plenty of time to think of riffs, so I have to start transcribing them once I get to school. Of course, it also allows me to run into Donna McGuire on the 1:15 Van Galder headed for Janesville, so draw your own conclusions.
Voorhees is no more, since the name is taken (I'm pretty sure I'm mentioned this before), as is Loomis, so it looks like we're D.B. Cooper now, and the Shaw is gonna play some bass. We are gonna peel some emo kids' faces off and feed them to hyenas. Mark my words. And this time, Zach and I are intensely discussing the juxtaposition of high-brow aesthetics within grind; we're trying to fuse the visceral with the cerebral, and create challenging music that is consciousness expanding, but at the same time completely annihilates buses full of the elderly. I'm sorry, that analogy was in poor taste. At the same time completely annihilates zeppelins full of Nazis. That's more like it. I think that grind is unfairly treated and slandered quite often, essentially because it is so coruscating and different from any other genre, but I think that vast potential is waiting to be realized with it, and we intend to unlock it.
By the way, just so everyone knows, The Boogeyman is an awful movie, and I'm sure most of you figured that it would be, but I thought I'd give it a chance since it's brought to you by the same folks who made The Grudge. However, as frightening as I found the latter to be, the former was inane, rushed, and moronic. Luckily, I didn't pay for my ticket, so slippi-dee-doo.
Things are awfully good. I'm getting the old sensation I used to get quite often of suddenly awakening in my body and realizing I'm alive for the first time once more, and that's an amazing feeling. I think my epiphany a couple of weeks back is aiding my own progression, and all this bitterness that I harbored for a long time is gone, and I feel more complete as a result. I dare say I've made to Level 20 Secret Ninja now, so everyone bear that in mind, especially you bugbears and dark mages out there. I will wrath you.
I talked to Shawn two nights ago, which was pretty sweet, especially considering the fact that we hadn't spoken for... oh, I don't know... roughly 2 years! Sheesh. I saw him today when I attempted to donate at BioLife, and he was blond! What happened, Shawn?! Oh well, I'll be seeing him again; hopefully we'll buy some Fresca sometime soon at Count Dracula's behest. (Wow, that won't make any sense if you're not in on that joke.)
In short, Awesomeness all around. All of you- have marvelous weekends, and be excellent to one another.

Love,
Ian

P.S. Aliens is potentially the greatest movie ever. "That's great, man, why don't we just put her in charge?!?!" Hudson rules, man! And aliens?! Get out of here! If you were an alien at a subway, no one would mess with you! I wish I had acid spit. "Why can't that be me?"
P.P.S. You're all getting an exposition on Atlantis sometime very soon... be prepared...
P.P.P.S. The chicken at China Town Buffet isn't chicken!!!!!!!
P.P.P.P.S. Wow, that's really getting obnoxious.

If You Take Off With My Truck, I Will Unleash a Horde of Goats!

Hey, everyone! I gotta tell you, straight off the bat, that my braces are off! Whoo!!! Super duper! You have no idea how elated I am to have scrap metal parts no longer glued to my pearly whites (though I do have pink plastic parts now ensconced within my jaw, but still, every little is a gain, even though I sound like an idiot when I talk right now). Now I just have to not lose my retainers 6 times, or even once, I suppose...
Allow me to digress and express how much I love the movie 24 Hour Party People, the story of the rise and fall of Factory Records and its creator, Tony Wilson. Then again, he admits during the film that his own story isn't about him, it's about the music, and consequently, it's really about the advent of British punk, Joy Division, New Order and the Happy Mondays, as well as the birth of rave culture, all of which you can thank Manchester for. It's so good that God even has a cameo at the very end. Its presentation is somewhat similar to High Fidelity (in that Tony Wilson constantly is breaking the Fourth Wall, except that this movie has him seeminly prophecying the future, in the sense that he is involved in the film in a temporally linear fashion, but can look ahead to events in the future because it's written in hindsight), but there's no rain or John Cusack in sight, which is excusable, because the movie rules so hard.
Friday night was spent sleepless, due to the fact that I saw The Grudge with Kristin and Melissa. Before you scoff, know that I scoffed as well; I figured:

1. It's a Wes Craven looking movie
2. It has Sarah Michelle Gellar
3. Melissa found it frightening

What other conclusion could I reach but that it was sophomoric garbage that would do well in theaters because of star power and not because of scares? So, I agreed to watch it, and almost immediately regretted that decision, because it scared the friggin' bejeezus out of me, and it's been difficult getting to sleep since then. Thanks, Sarah Michelle Gellar.

Saturday found me in Madison at the Lost and Found seeing Nate and Zach's band Baby, Get Your Gun, about 3 mediocre to terrible bands in-between, and finally, Fallen Sparrows (with Zach triumphantly on bass) who killed. Baby, Get Your Gun did a cover of a Norma Jean song which featured Aaron Weiss of mewithoutYou on guest vocals, so Jon- er, Juarez filled in Aaron's shoes for their rendition of it. You see, onstage Weiss typically wears a scarf, several winter coats, a sweater and a bandanna, and has really scruffy hair (facial and otherwise), so Jon was going to Weiss it up for the performance. Unfortunately, he couldn't find the proper wig, so he had to settle for Zach's intense "I'm a Judas Priest British Steel-era fan outside a 7-11 with the stereo blaring" mullet wig, which just made him look like a haggard Mexican, so he drew on a thin moustache and rocked the winter coat and scard anyway, threw on some haggard Granny sunglasses, and voila! Juarez was born, and he stayed in character for the ride there until his performance of the Norma song. After that he was freakin' hot and reverted back to Jon, but who knows? This may not be the last of Juarez...

Yesterday found my brother, the Shaw, Jon and Zach and I pelting Shaw's and Zach's trucks with snowballs outside of Jon's house and having a blast. This crappy, rusted Honda Civic without windows attempted a snowball drive-by in the midst of this, but their was poor and they took off to who knows where with their busted ride. Eventually, Jon's neighbor came outside with two of his d.b. buddies and wanted to rumble, but nothing much came of that, because no one was really in range.

After that, we had Walken practice, and we did a rendition of "Love Will Tear Us Apart" by Joy Division, but on the way there- oh Lord- I drove with the Shaw, and Jon was with Zach, and there was still TONS of snow on Shaw's truck, so I grabbed a handful and packed it up, and told him to come up alongside Zach, and I launched it inside his window, and thus, the Snowball Road Warrior Escapade began, all the way from Sentry to the Salvation Army, just relentlessly blasting one another with snow. At the 5 Points, Jon even jumped out of the truck at a red light to get another snowball and whomp me and the Shaw (thankfully, I rolled the window up in time, or I would've been a goner). I paid him back later at my house where I smoked him in the face, but that was an accident. I'm still really sorry, Jon.

Eventually, we had Cell Fun Night last night at DJ's apartment and played Balderdash and whatnot, and Tim kept thinking of the most hilarious definitions ever. Zach also had a splendid synopsis for the film The Big Operator: Friends star David Schwimmer and song and dance legend Liza Minelli's marriage is tested when Schwimmer contracts botulism and requires immediate surgery, but falls in love with his nurse, played by legend Quincy Jones. Zach, you'll have to fill in the blanks here, Gorp.

Oh, and my brother got a 4 month old puppy named Sam; she's a tiny lil' basset hound, and she is potentially the coolest dog EVER. She has the cooelst bark, and she scares the daylights out of Chandler, though admittedly, that doesn't take much. You'll have to see her, your heart will melt.

Well, I finally start school tomorrow at 8 in the morning, and I'm about to order all my books, so I'll catch all of you later.

Love, Ian

The History of Middle-Earth, Part III

Wow. I'm really very sorry that it's taken so long for me to post a new entry, and I don't believe that any act of contrition will convey the sense of guilt I feel over taking so long, but I have been awfully busy the last few days what with housekeeping, and trash, and laundry, and shampooing the carpet, and making sense of my schedule for MMI etc. etc. etc. Please don't take this for an excuse; it's a reason. But I do promise on Skippy Khan that nothing of this sort will ever happen again.
Anyway, all of that aside, I found time for sledding with my brother and Kristin, Sara and Jenny Galbrecht at Riverside Park (I had no idea there was a tobogan in my garage- go figure) on Saturday before Game Night. We ripped some intense multiplayer Ghost Recon 2 (and a bit of Halo 2, since Eric despises Ghost Recon. What a dweeb.) and gorged on chili pizza. "Chili pizza?" you ask. "Chili pizza!" I reply. Jon invented it earlier last week, and though I was skeptical at first, I am now a firm convert, having tasted its deliciousness. Mm-mmm.
Kristin made some cheese bread that Kayleigh's rude friends indulged in (they waltzed into the house when Kayleigh was gone and made themselves at home in her room, and one of them punched me in the collarbone) and some steak was made as well, so there was plenty of fine eatin' that night, as well as slaughtering and mayhem.
The next day found me and Nate sledding at Riverside Park again, this time with Brad, Jim, MutationPakes' daughter and half of her family, and believe you me, it was a grand old time. We dominated. After conventional sledding for an hour, we created a five person Chain of Doom and annihilated the hill facing the road (as well as ourselves); it was considered a failure if everyone made it to the bottom in one piece. That was probably some of the most fun I've had in a while; if you have the means, I highly recommend it.
On a bit of a down note, I donated this morning with Jon and had my arms destroyed by "Shannon" (if that is her real name) while I was hooked up to a crappy machine. She stuck my left arm, and apparently did something wrong, because she proceeded to yank the needle about for several minutes whilst from my arm flowed crimson streams of gore. Needless to say, I didn't think that that was very professional. After bandaging my left arm, she asked if I wanted to attempt to donate with my right arm, and I said no, but I was told that if I "refused," I would have a 30 day deferral, so I went ahead and gave it a shot, and the results were the same, save that now I see that there's a big ugly bruise on my inner elbow. To cap everything off, I had a cell loss, i.e. the machine ate up some of my red blood cells; should that happen again, I get an 8 week deferral. Great. I still was paid the normal amount, though, which kind of surprised me. Had I not received some type of recompense, I would not have been a happy camper in the least. So, though my arms are effectly kaput, I'm still twenty dollars the richer.
Now, with all of that aside, we can go on to:

The History of Middle-Earth, Part III

Now Elu Thingol was Lord of the Eldar of Beleriand, and these were known as the Sindar or the Grey-Elves. With him Melian the Maia who ruled beside him as Queen. During these countless ages Beleriand had peace, and under the light of the stars the Sindar grew in wisdom and craft nearly enough to rival those of the Eldar who resided in Aman.

Many of the Sindar wandered through the land in companies without permanent settlings, singing as they went. Many, however, lived along the western coasts of Beleriand in the Falas ("the Coast"), and their lord was Cirdan the Shipwright. They had great havens at Brithombar and Eglarest, and those people alone of the Eldar of Middle-Earth loved to sail upon the sea and were skilled in seafaring.

Others lived in Ossiriand ("the Land of Seven Rivers"); these were of Nandorin origin. The Nandor ("Those Who Turn Back") were Telerin elves who forsook the Great Journey upon seeing the Blue Mountains. However, after many years, one of their lords, Denethor, led many people of that kindred into Beleriand and took Thingol as their king. They became known as the Laiquendi or Green-Elves, because their clothing was made to match the forests of their land. Because of this, and because of the fact that their homes were made in the trees, it was said that one could walk all through their realm and never see one of them. They were vegetarian, and their great hunting skills were used only in the defense of their land.

The greatest realm of the Sindar was in the forests of Neldoreth and Region in the heart of Beleriand, and this land was called Eglador, and Thingol and Melian ruled it directly. There were other dwellings of the Sindar spread throughout Beleriand, but never in numbers as great as in these realms.

As the power of the Sindar increased, newcomers came to Beleriand in the form of the dwarves of Belegost and Nogrod. These were great cities delved in the Blue Mountains and their people were akin to the dwarves of Khazad-dum (or Moria, as it was later called). The Sindar named them Naugrim ("the Stunted People") and the Gonnhirrim ("the Masters of Stone") and they began to trade and the wealth of Beleriand grew immensely. The Dwarves built a great highway from their cities in the mountains into Eastern Beleriand and both peoples prospered, and they brought news to the Sindar of the world without.

During these days the Eldar of Aman grew likewise in wisdom and strength under the guidance of the Valar. The Vanyar were much beloved of Manwe, and they dwelt at the slopes of Mount Taniquetil. The Noldor learned much from Aule the Smith, and their works soon began to rival those of the Ainur of Aule. They went far and wide throughtout Aman in search of new knowledge and built towers of stone and other great works. The Teleri brought great pearls and other precious stones from the Bay of Eldamar and distributed them amongst the Noldor, and in recompense the Noldor built for the Teleri their haven of Alqualonde, for their former dwellings were not made with stone. However, they were unequalled in their shipcraft, and they made great white ships in the likeness of swans, and they sailed about the Bay of Eldamar and the coasts of Aman for they loved the sea.

Now during the Blisstide of Valinor (as this time was called) Finwe, High King of the Noldor, had a son by his wife Miriel Serinde whom he named Curufinwe, but his mother-name (and the name he was known by ever after) was Feanor, the Spirit of Fire. He was the greatest of the Noldor, and the effort of birthing him weakened Miriel, and she was the first to perish in the Blessed Realm of Aman. This grieved Finwe greatly, but he found some solace in his son, who likewise loved his father dearly. After a while, Finwe married Indis of the Vanyar (who was of close kin to Ingwe, their King) and had two sons by her, Fingolfin and Finarfin. This did not meet with the favor of Feanor, who never grew close to either of his half-brothers.

Feanor was the most accomplished Noldorin craftsmen of any age, and his pursuit of knowledge knew no bounds. He created beautiful jewels, and lamps that burnt with a secret fire, as well as the palantirs. It was rare that his hands were not at work, and his mind was subtle and skillful. However, he was proud, and none could dissuade him from any course. He married Nerdanel and had seven sons by her: Maedhros the Tall, Celegorm, Curufin (who inherited the most of his father's skill), Caranthir, Maglor, and the twins Amrod and Amras. Their mother was as gifted as Feanor but more patient, and she and Feanor grew estranged. Some of her mood was passed on to her sons, but not to all.

Fingolfin had two sons, Fingon and Turgon, and a daughter, Aradhel. Finarfin had four sons by his wife Earwen of Alqualonde (the daughter of Olwe), Finrod the Faithful, Orodreth, Angrod and Aegnor, and a daughter, Galadriel. The House of Finarfin had golden hair that they inherited from their Vanyar grandmother. The sons of Finarfin were so close in friendship with the sons of Fingfolin that they could all have been brothers, but there was small love in Feanor's heart for the others of his father's house, though Fingon and Maedhros were great friends.

Finally, the three ages of Melkor's imprisonment came to a close, and he was brought before the Valar in the Ring of Doom and he submitted to them. Manwe forgave him, as he was unable to understand evil, being not evil himself, though he ruled that Melkor must remain in Valmar for a term. Melkor took to the aid of the Valar and the Eldar (only in public; he hated them both still) and finally he was allowed to wander freely throughout man. This infuriated Tulkas, but nevertheless he obeyed Manwe.

During this time, the Dwarves brought word to Thingol that the creatures of Melkor were abroad in great numbers once more: orcs, werewolves, spiders and other dreadful beasts. Taking thought to this, Thingol commissioned the dwarves to create great arms of steel for his people (for they did not understand metalworking) and to create a place of strength. Thus, the dwarves made new weapons of war fo the Sindar, and delved the Thousand Caves of Menegroth within the Forest of Neldoreth. Within its grottoes, Melian crafted images of Valinor, and it became the fairest city in Middle-Earth, and its armories were filled with axes, spears, swords, and hauberks that never grew dull. Afterwards, the Sindar drove their enemies from Beleriand and again had peace.

Okie dokie, folks. The story will definitely picck up with the next installment, so be not afraid. Also, be not afraid that I'll wait another flippin' week for said installment, or for any kind of post, period. No way. I'm on this.

Love,

Ian

The History of Middle-Earth, Part III

Wow. I completely went back on my word, and it has now been a week and a day since my last post, and I really am very distraught at this turn of events and I promise upon Skippy Khan that this will never happen again. I have, actually, been fairly busy, though, between keeping the hacienda clean (my house, not the club owned by Tony Wilson of Factory Records fame), and laundry, and shampooing the carpet, and trying to make sense of my schedule for MMI and what have you, as well as my horrific ordeal at BioLife this morning. This will require something of an exposition regarding the last two days.
Monday night marked the time that some DVDs my brother had rented from Premiere Video were due, and I promised him that I would take care of them, since he has to get to bed rather early for work in Madison at 6:00 A.M. But, they slipped my mind until the fateful hour of 10:45, at which point I threw on my snow boots and some earmuffs and began jogging for Premiere. (That didn't last for very long since I'm out of shape, but I kept it up for at least a while. Okay, about five minutes.) I made it there finally at 11:57, and already I could feel blisters developing, but I figured that since I had delivered the goods, I could take my time getting back home, thus not overly aggravating said blisters. I did take my time, and I got back home at about 3 in the morning, and I promptly went to bed. However, the puppies had other plans, and they awoke me at 5:30 demanding to be let out. I saw to their request, but they decided to wake me up every hour until 10:00, at which point I said "Forget this," and got up and finally gave them breakfast, and had some myself. In short, I'm up, and have had very little sleep, and I have the biggest blisters ever known to mankind, and my right leg was so sore that I could scarcely put any weight on it. Then, I had to call Kayleigh in sick, so she stayed home, which is why I didn't post yesterday (along with all of the other stuff).
So, I went to bed a little after midnight last night, figuring I would still get up at the usual 8:30 or at the latest 9:00, but instead awoke at 9:45, as Jon was showing up at my house so we could donate plasma. So, I quickly threw on a sweatshirt and grabbed some C.S. Lewis books, and we took off to get poked with needles. Needless to say, I looked pretty haggard. To compound matters, when we donated this morning, I was taken to one of the recently re-opened section ( the Pink Section) where I was stuck by a lady named Shannon, who was clueless on procedure and whatever else. She stuck my left arm, but the machine wasn't cooperating (that's why the section was closed for some time in the first place), so she did the sensible thing and started yanking the needle around under my skin for several minutes whilst my arm gushed forth crimson streams like some terrible fissure of gore. After this, the machine shut down. So, she had to do my right arm, else I would have a 30 day deferral for "refusing," and this produced similar results. It appears that the machine is still a piece of crap, dog gone it. What's worse, it ate up a bunch of my red blood cells, so I had a "cell loss," and if I have another within the next 8 weeks, I get an 8 week deferral. So, after having all my blood mopped up and having my arms bandaged, I found that I still got paid my normal amount since I was technically stuck. That's good, because I would not have been a happy camper if I wasn't recompensed in some manner. However, I'm definitely going to ask to not have "Shannon" stick me again (I've had difficulties with her in the past) and my arms can't take any more of it.
It hasn't been all gloomy the last several days, though; in fact, it's pretty pretty good. I don't mind the housekeeping and whatnot, I could just do without the bleeding to death portions, that's all. Furthermore, Saturday was spent sledding with Kristin, Sara, Nate and Jenny Galbrecht, and afterwards was Game Night, where we rocked some Ghost Recon 2 (and a little bit of Halo 2, since Eric hates Ghost Recon <what a dweeb>) and had chili pizza. "Chili pizza?" you ask. "Yes, chili pizza," I answer. Jon invented it and extolled its virtues to me, and upon tasting its delightfulness on Saturday, I am a firm convert. Kristin made cheesebread that Kayleigh's rude pals ate (they waltzed into the house when Kayleigh was gone, and one of them punched me in the collarbone) and there was much merriment and rejoicing and slaughtering.
The next day Nate and I went sledding with Brad, Jim, MutationPakes' daughter (and half of her family) at Riverside Park and we dominated. To cap off our joyful experience there, we made a five person Chain of Doom and annihilated (mostly ourselves). Jim tried to snowboard with the Sno Thrasher, but mostly ended up executing some gnarly Frontside Facegrinds. During the Chain of Doom, Brad had the Fruit Roll-up at one point and was in the middle of the chain and ended up burning out and getting run over by everyone. I had a similar experience with the Sno-Car, where Brad, Jim and I basically collapsed together as I lost control and ate hillside. All in all, it was a most remarkable time, and some of the most fun I've had in a while. If you have the means, I highly recommend it.
Now that all of that is out of the way, we can finally get to:

The History of Middle-Earth, Part III

Now Elu Thingol ruled over all the Sindar of Beleriand with Melian the Maia as his Queen, and they alone of the Elves who never saw the Light of the Two Trees grew comparable to the Eldar of Aman. Beleriand prospered under the the light of the stars, and there was a peace of countless ages. Many companies of Sindar would wander throughout Beleriand without permanent dwellings, singing as they went, but others settled throughout the land. Some lived at the western edge of Beleriand in the Falas ("the Coast") and were ruled by Cirdan the Shipwright under Thingol. They had two great havens there, at Brithombar and Eglarest, and were the only Elves of Middle-Earth at this time to sail upon Belegaer.

In Ossiriand ("the Land of Seven Rivers") lived many Nandorin Elves, Elves who turned back from the Great Journey upon seeing the Blue Mountains; but under one of their lords named Denethor, many decided to cross the Mountains and settle in Beleriand. Under Thingol's leave, they settled in what became known as Lindon ("the Land of Song"). They spurned the eating of meat, and made their homes in the trees of their land and one could walk all through their realm without seeing a one of them, for their raiment was in the green of the trees they lived amongst.

The greatest collection of Sindar were gathered in the forests of Region and Neldoreth in the heart of Beleriand, and this realm was called Eglador. Here Thingol himself resided and made his capitol. Through the rest of Beleriand scattered kindreds also resided, but in no great numbers wherever they were found. The Sindar did not love stone, but loved wood and stream, and were accomplished in song and storytelling, and their crafts grew almost as great as the Elves oversea.

During this time, the first dwarves entered into Beleriand from their cities of Belegost and Nogrod in the Blue Mountains, and they built a road from the mountains into Eastern Beleriand wherein they came to trade with the Eldar and to bring news of the world without. They learned the language of the Sindar, since the elves found the few words they heard of the dwarves' language to be cumbersome and unlovely, and the dwarves would not properly teach their tongue to any other race.

Likewise during this time, the Noldor and Vanyar grew wiser and stronger in Aman, having the Valar as teachers. The Vanyar were most beloved by Manwe, and they dwelt at the foot of the mountain Taniquetil, where Manwe resided. The Noldor took most after Aule the Smith, and he taught them much, and the Noldor made great towers of stone, as well as other great works that after a while rivalled those of the Ainur of Aule. The Teleri collected great pearls from the Bay of Eldamar and distributed them amongst the Noldor and strew them across the lands of Aman. In recompense, the Noldor built the haven of Aqualonde for the Teleri, who before had dwelt in simpler homes as they did not work with stone; however, they had no rivals in the building of boats, and they had great white ships in the likeness of swans, and these the Teleri cherished above all else.

During the Blisstide of Valinor (as this time was called) the High King of the Noldor, Finwe, had a son he named Curufinwe, but his mother-name was Feanor, the Spirit of Fire. His mother Miriel was greatly weakened by the effort of giving birth to so great a son, though, and she passed away, the first to die in the Blessed Realm. Finwe was greatly grieved by this, and found some solace in his son, but after a while he wed Indis of the Vanyar and was happy again. With her, he had his sons Fingolfin and Finfarfin, but Feanor was greatly displeased by this.

Feanor was the most gifted of the Noldor, and none have ever surpassed him. He loved to craft new things; he was also very proud, and none could dissuade him from any course. He had seven sons by his wife Nerdanel: Maedhros the Tall, Maglor, Celegorm, Caranthir, Curufin, who inherited most his father's skill, and the youngest twins, Amrod and Amras. They possessed many of his features in lesser extent, and they hearkened to his every word.

Fingolfin had two sons, named Fingon and Turgon, and a daughter named Aradhel. Finarfin married Earwen of the Teleri and had four sons, Finrod the Faithful, Orodreth, Angrod and Aegnor, as well as a daughter, Galadriel, whose hair was like a mesh of gold, due to her mother being of the Vanyar. His sons were so close in friendship to Fingolfin's sons that they could all have been brothers.

It finally came to pass the the three ages of Melkor's imprisonment came to and end, and he was brought to the Ring of Doom before the Valar, and he submitted to them. Manwe, not comprehending evil because he himself was not, believed the words of Melkor and freed him, but said that he must remain within Valmar for a term. Tulkas was much angered by this, but obeyed the words of Manwe, and eventually Melkor was allowed to wander freely throughout Aman. He taught much to the Noldor as well, for they listened to him, believing him to be cured of his evil, but his hatred of the Eldar grew upon seeing the Valar's love for them, and he resolved to destroy them and the Valar's love for them.

And it was about this time that Feanor crafted the Silmarils; three great jewels that contained some of the Light of the Trees, and they were the most beautiful works ever crafted. He had created other lesser jewels in the past, each greater than the last as his knowledge grew, and his works culminated in the Silmarils, and the Eldar and the Valar loved them, and Melkor coveted them.

As this happened, the Dwarves of Belegost and Nogrod gave word to Thingol that evil things were stirring in great numbers once more; orcs, werewolves, spiders and other foul creatures, and Thingol commissioned them to create arms of steel (for the Sindar did not work with metal), and to create a place of strength in his land. Thus, the Dwarves delved the Thousand Caves of Menegroth, wherein were placed images of Valinor wrought by Melian, and Thingol and Melian swelt there ever after with their daughter Luthien Tinuviel, and its armories were filled with spears and hauberks and axes and swords, and the Sindar, better armed, drove back Melkor's creatures and regained peace.

Whew. That was a lot, and the story's about to pick up with the next installment, believe you me. And furthermore, you can believe you me that I will deliver another post in the extremely near future, so sit tight. I'm back on track.

Love,

Ian

P.S. Should I not be re-evaluating my position on the Sex Pistols? I mean, I kind of like their song "No Fun," but I still think their (only) album, Never Mind the Bollocks, Here's the Sex Pistols is rubbish. I guess my problem is that I have to concede that their influence was staggering, but that they themselves were not actually all that awesome. Oh well. Talk to you all later.