Draqq_Zyxorian / Member

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Draqq_Zyxorian Blog

Rising Son (Poem)

Flushed cheeks, hands in jeans,
he struts calmly
in cotton fields.
No "azure" sky or dreams in "gossamer"
tie his mouth
to his sun-dried crown
sewn by banded hands.
Hanging loose,
like handsome dust rolling
down Scylla through Charybdis,
so ripe and pale
as the flesh of Jonagold,
his back runs wild
from the mazes of hay
to the thruways of day,
for his blood is Telemachus,
his head is Sawyer,
and his feet are size American.

Who? THE Who.

Special guest appearance for Rock Band 2 tie-in gig. Orpheum Theatre. Los Angeles.

Initially uninterested. Feet hurt after standing at E3 showroom pavilion for seven hours straight. Also played DDR. All three similar, very similar versions. Became more uninterested as day went by. Went anyway.

7:20pm. A bit late. But no worries. Special guests appear at 9:00pm. Play Rock Band 2 in the meantime.

Go upstairs. See Alex Navarro next to Rock Band 2 stages. Lots of plasmas. The center plasma was framed. Wanted to shred it with my telekinetic fret-skills. (This is my journal entry, shut up.)

Watch Alex tear up drums. Tear up vocals, guitar, and drums myself. See Alex get giddier as 9:00 approaches. Okay, made that up. Actually see Alex keep his cool, but know his soul is getting giddier. Ask him who the special guest is. See Alex understand my emphasis of the word who. Watch him kinda, sorta, not really, but yes confirm.

Find my seat in the auditorium. 400-seat max or so. Find Blake Morse, fellow GameRevolution editor, in side aisle seats about six rows back from the stage. Find that seat is being saved. Find myself not caring. Find myself in argument three minutes later. Find myself moving aside. And then moving back again, because person found another seat. Mega-douche.

Mention to Blake, a bass player for Apple Pie Hopes - local Berkeley/San Francisco group - that the rumor is that it's "The Who". Hear him say that he's not going to believe it until they appear.

They appear. Blake blows his lid off and starts using heartfelt to-be-symbol-covered words.

Ridiculous standing ovation for the next two hours. (We weren't fooled again.)

Highlights: Roger Daltrey has still got the pipes and mic tricks. Pete Townshend breaks guitar string. Jests that the Guitar Hero: Aerosmith bundle comes with Steven Tyler's underwear. Crowd roars.

Back in hotel after three hours. Feet hurt like mad. Stood the entire time. But would stand even longer.

Come on, it's The #%*ing Who.

The Doors of GameSpot

During my trek to the EA event at the Supper Club, I happened to pass by a building marked by its clear glass windows and sturdy green frame. Seeing a statue of the CNet logo, I knew where I was. At first, I didn't know how to react - with glee, respect, or an ordinary sense of acceptance - but one thing was sure. An arcade with Dance Dance Revolution Extreme and a pinball machine was blinking its happy lights on what have been the third or fourth floor. Alas, I'm a sucker for things that make pretty sounds.

And so my curiosity took the better of me. I opened the large glass doors (the same doors that Alex went through in the Big Rigs review), and well, I couldn't go very far. Two receptionists were at the desk, which marked where employees and wandering guests like me could go. Beyond the reception desk were two modern-looking gray staircases, held together by metal plates, metal railings, and metal wire. Very corporate, but also very cool.

There, I stood aimlessly - the kind of standing where you feel like you're doing nothing. I couldn't stop but wonder: Is this a vision of the future? Is this a dream that I desire, the dream to work here, to dedicate my life? Where else does the path of being a small-time editor lead? Is this place that greets me with metal and glass, a place where I can call home for at least a fleeting moment of my life? Or are these thoughts simply the wish of my inner child, against the truth that even if I were to become an editor here that life would just be harder?

So carelessly, I step back and turn toward the doors. Perhaps the receptionists wondered who that person was, that person who simply came and went. But I'm sure I wasn't the only one. Many others have passed through those doors to see a glimpse of a possible future. And so I turned away and walked up Second Street, smiling at what the future may hold.