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this blog was maintained by the journalism class of 2010-2011. For the current Woodstock journalism blog, please visit http://woodstocktiger.org,

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Posted in Welcome, Woodstock News

A lesson in Metal

What is a Metalhead? According to Steff Metal, a blogger I follow very closely, “a metalhead is someone who considers her or herself part of the metal subculture.” In other words, someone who identifies with the genre and is able to follow the progressive evolution of the music.

Now, many people are prejudiced against the collective genre known as Metal, with all its subcategories–Heavy, Thrash, Power, Glam, Stoner, Folk, Death, Black, White and all the others. The most famous one is Heavy Metal, with exponents such as Black Sabbath or Judas Priest. However, many people wrongly confuse this genre with Death Metal or its non-Metal cousin, Metalcore. A normal association with the word “metal” in the music scene comes with guttural or screaming vocals, noisy double bases and less-than-harmonious guitars. As I said, this is not Heavy Metal, nor it is an ambassador of the Metal genre as a whole–it merely is a subsection, either Death or Metalcore.

Before I continue I want to say that I am in no way an authority; I know much less than most, and much more than the least about Metal. I am merely speaking my opinion, all based on experience and some readings.

The reason I want to begin with Death Metal is because it is a genre usually misunderstood and misinterpreted. Heavy Metal is also, many times, confused with Death, particularly by those who are not part of the subculture. Death Metal has two faces: one powerful, dark and aggressive, the other gloomy, slow and filled with depth. Instead of describing each, I will leave you with a pair of vidoes that clearly portray the musicality and ability of these Metalheads. It will be until next post that I put Heavy Metal, and I hope then you will have some perspective and understand the difference.

 

 

And here are a few links that you mind find useful:

http://steffmetal.com/

http://www.metal-archives.com/index.php

*Note: there are many subtle distinctions between Metal genres, and many of them are a source of controversy among Metalheads. Children of Bodom, for example, is defined as “Melodic Death/Power Metal.” However, the sake of simplicity I will stick to general currents and notions.

Posted in Woodstock News

I’m From Barcelona – Oversleeping

Damn! Oversleeping again
Damn! I can’t believe I did it once again

I can make it in time
if I jump out of bed
if I skip to wear clothes
and get running instead
if I get on my feet
if I skip to hit snooze
if I don’t care to eat
and get running instead
I can make it in time

Been oversleeping on Monday
I don’t care let’s pretend that it’s Sunday

Posted in Poetry | 1 Comment

poem from a wall


a fly buzzes on and off the walls around me

as if in a quivered dream  

fevered breaths warm the blanket hanging over me

the fly on the wall buzzes from what was real

until its all in my head

spinning alone on my cold carousel

am I there yet or am I still here?

Posted in Poetry

Automatic Goldfish Making

1. Fold the paper in half downwards to make a triangle.

2. Next, fold in half again horizontally, and unfold right away.

3. Fold the corners down to meet at the bottom tip.

4. Fold the two tips up to meet at the top.

5. Fold the two corners outward just a bit.

6. Fold the front of the bottom corner up, but don’t make it go all the way to the top.

 7. Fold the remaining edge upward to form an extra strip at the center of the figure.

8. Fold the bottom of the paper back behind the figure.

9. Now insert your fingers into the helmet and fold it so the two side corners meet.

10. Cut an opening along the bottom right of the figure.

11. Don’t cut all the way to the side corner! Make a line by folding and then unfolding.

12. Fold the flap on the right side down to form the tail fin of the fish. Your goldfish is complete!

info from: http://web-japan.org/kidsweb/virtual/origami2/exploring01_09.html

Posted in Woodstock News

Automatic goldfish 2

Automatic gold fish awoke a few hours later because it seemed as if a few hours had passed and he was awake. He looked over and there were no reflections, he looked around and there was no water and there he was breathing without effort. His arms, he had arms now and legs too, he was a boy now, when did that happen? Large hands reached over to grasp him, he tried to swim away but it was futile. His bulbous eyes remained and he still liked to move his lips to an open O as if he were trying to conjure the right word to say so master would stop. Automatic was passed over for one adoring hand to another, but what use was a dead goldfish to adoring masters and mistresses and why would they reach over to kiss him? how embarassing. Soon he was put back onto his cradle and master read to him of how the cow had jumped over the moon but automatic could not help but imagine how the cow must have crashed back down. This was how he felt too. There was a sense of nostalgia about the house and since the goldfish knew he remembered this the pointless story became a pointless story of a boy. I was all nauseating these coincidences. Little had changed, but could he finally have found a name?

Posted in Woodstock News

Automatic Goldfish 1

There is no point to this story, no hidden jest, no real message. This story will hold no relevance to anyone because goldfish mean nothing to no one, they only gawk and swim. There was once a goldfish that swam in a fish bowl. The goldfish was black. This was coincidence. Being a goldfish, it had forgotten the circumstances under which it had arrived in the fish bowl. It had forgotten its name but often contemplated new names for itself but would forget shortly after. In the exciting fishbowl it would continually chase after gawking strangers for entertainment. They didn’t seem to care, they were only reflections. When not lost in bright conversation the goldfish would forget. It knew nothing except that it would soon forget; it had come to enjoy this. One day the gold fish was plucked up from the vibrant fishbowl by someone, an alien. This was coincidence. Prone on the table top, the goldfish felt no pain, only remorse because it had forgotten the instances of the life that had flashed before it. Gasping on the table top, the goldfish waited to forget and then start again. The end.

Posted in Woodstock News | 1 Comment