28 January, 2015


I've moved to unhappychair.wordpress.com after I realised Blogger has never been my preferred platform. I don't think I'll ever try to review works of music or literature, though; I've realised that I've become even more of an infrared pedestrian - an invisible observer - since I stopped blogging on here. Anecdotes are what I'll be writing about mostly, though the occasional unpopular opinion will find its way in.
See you there, I hope?

12 August, 2014


This blog is becoming increasingly non-metal but at the moment that is the least of my concerns and you will forgive me for this post which is comparable to a pool of self-pity.

(Wow, that sentence really needs a comma.)

Everything goes well until I come home from school. I eat a little, maybe a small dosa or two, WHILE WATCHING TV.

Let me tell you, it is heaven and hell all at the same time.

Heaven because you feel happy. I read somewhere that TV is a child's form of therapy after something stressful/tiring/emotionally disturbing has happened, and school is definitely in more than one of those categories. But at the same time, when you watch TV and eat food, you don't pay attention to your food and therefore you don't realize when you're full.

So I get tired afterwards because I don't feel like I've eaten anything. Result: overeating.

Oh, and House M.D. begins at 6 pm and ends at 7, so I watch that almost everyday. Which is a bummer since I'm not allowed to drum after 7 pm (or the old neighbors will chase me with Tamil swear words and cricket bats). Therefore Gregory House is ruining my chances of becoming an accomplished drummer.

Kidding. It's just me.

Now to slowly climb out of this rut...

26 July, 2014


What a cutie. (source)
Yes, that man with the beautiful Jackson Kelly in his hands.

I was in Chennai Silks yesterday, which is like a huge shopping mall, complete with food court and snacks bars, except it only sells clothes. I managed to buy a Led Zeppelin shirt yesterday, which is quite a surprise since I've been scouring every nook and cranny of Chennai for a band T-shirt.

(Back to our subject of interest.) I was standing next to my mom, who was browsing through an aisle of embroidered sarees, telling me that she wasn't going to buy any of these and was just looking (which is what aggravated me the most - why would you look at something if you weren't going to buy it?) when I looked over her head in annoyance and spotted a mop of dark, curly hair amongst other heads.

My heart stopped. To be honest, I actually didn't know why initially. Then I realized - the HAIR. It was so completely identical to Marty Friedman's. 

Needless to say, it wasn't Marty Friedman. The lady who I thought was Marty Friedman had her face shaved clean, and she wore a tank top with a flowery skirt. 

I felt so embarrassed. But I was grinning at the same time.

The things I'd do to have my heart stop like that once more. (This reminds of when I was in Kanchipuram, and I saw a shirtless man with a shaved head and thought it was Phil Anselmo. Then I mentally smacked myself - Phil Anselmo isn't Phil Anselmo without his tattoos.)

25 July, 2014


I'm sure that word isn't working, so here's a list of things I need to write and post on this blog. The list will be frequently updated.
  1. Review of Megadeth's "Killing is my Business... And Business is Good!" song
  2. Review of Tantara's Based on Evil album (once it gets published on Encyclopaedia Metallum - if it gets rejected, I'll post it here anyway)
  3. Heavy Metal 101: What is Metal / How to Start Off (for kids new to the metal scene, a. k. a. "mallcore kids", as Encyclopaedia Metallum calls them)
  4. Sexism in the Metal Scene (title subject to change)
  5. That Post about Georgina Kirrin (title subject to change)
  6. Review of Black Breath's Heavy Breathing album
  7. Review of Elixir's The Son of Odin album
Meanwhile, I am active on no other social media site. Not even my email, since I lost my password. You can find me on my new Encyclopaedia Metallum account, though (I am a mallcore kid, as wrongly defined by the amount of points I have) - I seem to have a knack for losing passwords, though, in all honesty, I don't even remember my old account's username. 

09 June, 2014


I will admit that I've been dreaming about rain for the past month. There's the beautiful, dark, booming sound of thunder in my head, flashes of lightning illuminating everything in its brilliant light, the pitter-patter of raindrops as they strike the ground, that earthly smell of the ground as the water seeps through. It's a wonderful occurrence, especially in the scalding Chennai summer.

But so far, it's all been in my head, and my head only. I wake up expecting to inhale the calming scent of wet earth, but instead I am greeted by the harsh sunlight creeping through the cracks between the curtains like a motherfucker.

Until last night. Last night, my dreams - as trivial as they were - actually came true. I went to sleep watching the sky light up in flashes of white, listening to the rumble of enraged clouds as they sent down rain from the heavens. The air was cold and I went to sleep, content.

I guess the intro and outro of "Raining Blood" really got to me.

Lately I've been overly irritated, lashing out at everybody who manages to say something that's opinionated and to my dislike even in the slightest. Is it possible for a 15 year old to be hypertensive? Because I've been too stressed, enough to tell myself that I'm a worthless piece of shit (check out the previous post) and that I need to take a break from writing fiction and learning Danish.

Yesterday was when I realized I hadn't listened to music at all for over a week. I switched on my iPod, but it said "connect to power" and I think things got only worse from then.

I finally went to sleep, reading. The rain calmed me down this morning. I even managed to shout about what's bothering me, cry a little, and settle into an idle but effective routine (though I haven't exercised or bathed yet). I just can't wait for school - that time when everything falls into place, you no longer need to wonder when to wake up or when to eat, because you eat when you're hungry (you actually get hungry because you get tired) and wake up an hour before you need to move your ass out of the house. You sleep when you finish homework, and take a bath in the morning and before you hit the hay. And exercise? Psh, who has time for exercise?

So I'm sitting here listening to Megadeth and my mood has considerably improved. I just hope this isn't a PMS side effect.

06 June, 2014

dear self,

look away from the screen. lift your chin up, princess, your crown's falling. don't get so down on yourself. remember to drink water when you're thirsty. clip your nails once a week, even your toenails. don't let yourself skip the sunscreen. put breakfast before you run to the shower. and don't forget to shower.

stop feeling weak. you are strong, and you are capable of doing whatever the fuck you want. but take care of yourself. eat. read. write. work out. play drums. listen to music. those are 50% of the things that are important this year, 2014. the rest is your family. take care of them. but more than that, care enough to take care of yourself. be happy with what you have. because only if you love yourself will others love you.

up the hygiene. and look ahead. ahead at all the things you're going to do. releasing CDs, publishing books, living the road life. drop your goal of putting up good instagram pictures. that is bullshit. think instead of your biceps, the fringe, the u-haul blankets, your future band members, that feeling you'll get when you're first on stage. you want that, don't you? yes, you do; that was a rhetorical question.

wake up earlier, not at noon. go outside, enjoy the calm as you speed-bike listening to Pantera. come back and eat an egg or two. fucking bathe. read. play drums. eat lunch. read. work out. drum. read. eat. work out. i promise you, you give what you get. so give it your all.

i know you feel awkward about friends. that's okay. take it one step at a time. go talk to a newbie. have an old friend over. skype that person who has seemingly drifted away. it doesn't matter what you look like; you were friends for a reason.

take care of yourself. wash your hair, your bellybutton, the undersides of your feet. play around with some kohl. work out enough that you feel your heart beating in your ears. you are ALIVE. that in itself is a gift.

remember when you're down that pain doesn't tell you when you ought to stop. pain is the little voice in your head that tries to hold you back because it knows that if you go on, you will change. don't let it stop you from being who you CAN be. EXHAUSTION tells you when you ought to stop. you only reach your limit when you can go no further.

do it for the skinny jeans, the biceps, the sleeveless Slayer shirts, the confidence boost, the satisfaction, the "holy shit, you got hot", the photographs, the oppurtunities, the fame, the fun of it all.

if you want something real bad, make a fucking plan, write that shit down, and work on it. every. single. day.

and if you feel like giving up, just remind yourself that you have a lot of motherfuckers to prove wrong.

11 May, 2014


Have you ever met the kind of person who hates growing up?

I should know, I've only been hating it for, oh, two years...

But all of a sudden, it's stopped. I'm not sure how, but I look forward to growing up and I realized that the growing up I hated was the kind that was filled with acne, hormones raging against parents, armpit shaving (which I still don't do), higher expectations at school, emotional struggles with the self...

And so on, and so forth.

I still do hate adolescence. It is a period of mental torture. It's ugly. It's painful - both mentally and physically. It's a train wreck. But points-of-view have shifted, and now I look forward to going through the rest of these teenage years, if only to reach my twenties (as opposed to before, when I didn't want to go through my teenage years).

Growing up to me means independence. It means moving away from adolescence. It means doing what you want responsibly - coloring your hair without your mother screaming at you, enjoying the buzz from all the beer without the law chasing after you, buying...vinyl records?...without your father telling you it's a waste of money.

(Growing up also means freedom to mosh at shows.)

Repeat: doing what you want responsibly.

And so I can't wait to grow up. I can't wait to leave school and its horrendous pinstriped uniform behind. I can't wait to learn more about the world by actually being exposed to it and being allowed to have your own opinion about it (because let's face it, our "opinion" takes shape only because somebody we trust has the same opinion). I can't wait to be responsible for my actions, my decisions and my property. Basically, when you grow up and move out, the bias on your view of the world tends to seep out. Not that I want to move out - I love my family, no matter how many quarrels we've had. They're a supportive bunch; they love me, they appreciate my passion for music, they appreciate the fact that I'm writing a novel. At the same time, I can't help but wonder how the world will taste on my tongue when I'm on my own.


Most probably.

Here's to growing up. Denmark, here I come! Skål! [Clink of beer bottles.] Oh, and happy Mothers' Day to all the amazing moms out there. :)

23 April, 2014


PSA: This post is stupid.

The title is boring. I know. But this methodology is something that inspires me – even if only for a few hours a day – and I thought I'd share it with my few readers.

As I’ve mentioned numerous times before, I have various projects in mind for the summer – losing weight, learning Danish, writing fifteen chapters of An Anarchy of Dreams – but sadly, I’ve not done very well on any of them. No success. I haven’t exactly tried, granted, but wouldn’t everybody love to come out of a certain mission feeling victorious?

Unfortunately, the preamble to success is a vicious, draining and yet highly-rewarding cycle. For success, you need persistence; for persistence, you need discipline, and for discipline, you need effort.

Effort. Putting in effort is what matters.

Let us assume that you, the reader, are trying to drop a few pounds. Let’s start with Step One of the cycle: effort. You’ve finished the first day of your workout – abs, strength training, cardio, the works. But Day Two is what matters the most – day two is when you’ll need to put in extra effort, because you already know how hard Day One was on you.

This is where discipline comes in. Your thoughts are a self-fulfilling prophecy. If you keep telling yourself that you won’t be able to lose that butt-chin, that is ultimately what will happen. Hardwire yourself into discipline. Tell your self not that you can do it, but that you will. Willpower is as strong a factor of success as discipline is, and is also the root of discipline. Tell yourself that you will act methodologically and that you will eat a bowl of vegetables a day, that you will not skip the last ten push-ups, that you will wake up at six in the morning everyday to go for a run.

Now that I think I’ve used the word “discipline” too much, let’s move on to persistence. With discipline comes persistence. You don’t even have to think about persistence, it becomes a force of habit once you’ve disciplined yourself. You will learn to do things regularly without having to persuade your unmotivated mind – because you will no longer have an unmotivated mind. Discipline makes you look at the top of the mountain and how it will feel to be there – not how long it will take to get there.

After you’ve mastered discipline and persistence has become a routine, you need to remind yourself that results do not come overnight. It takes time. You can’t write a novel overnight, you can’t master the Danish language in three hours, and you can’t lose ten kilograms in a week.

Take your time, but do not ever skip out on your disciple/persistence routine. Make it a necessary part of your life – like brushing your teeth or taking a bath.

Time heals everything. Give it time, and you will ultimately look down upon the world from the top of your very own mountain.

I’ve found that a great way to maintain discipline is to go public with your routine. Make a blog, Tweet your progress or talk to your friends and family about it – everyday. For example, I have a Tumblr maintained exclusively for my weight loss routine. Check it out! It’s called Phil Anselmo’s Shaved Head.

09 April, 2014


I was super-hyped a few days ago when Alyssa Carlier (Insanity Inc.) nominated me for the Leibster Blog Award, because I basically never get awards, not even for the littlest things. Thanks so much, Alyssa! :D

The rules:
  • Each nominee must link back to the person that nominated them!
  • Answer the ten questions given to you by the nominator!
  • Nominate 10 other bloggers who have less than 200 followers!
  • Create 10 questions for your nominees to answer!
  • Let the nominees know you have nominated them by going to their website and notifying them!
 So here are the questions Alyssa made for me to answer:

1. Favorite villain?

Um. There are so many! Am I allowed to list more than one? I have to say… Cthulhu. He’s one creepy BAMF. I just love the way Lovecraft describes him, with the tentacles and the slime and everything. (I was actually so obsessed once I made a post about Cthulhu in my old blog.)

Or maybe I should go with Dave Mustaine.

Moving on.

2. Favorite word?

I’ve never actually thought about this until now. I don’t have a favorite word, per se (though I do overuse “also”, “perhaps” and “dude”) but now that I think about it, it’s probably “motherfuck”. Not in the literal sense, mind you. Just because it sounds ominous and I usually say it when I’m amazed or irritated. (It usually comes out as “mo-tha-fock”, with the Danish accent and everything, but I won’t bore you with the details.)

3. What oxymoron/paradox describes you best?

“Don’t ask what you can do for your country; ask what your country can do for you.” (While it probably doesn’t describe me, it means a lot to me. Courtesy of Take No Prisoners.) But I suppose “chaotic silence” describes me best—I’m almost always very quiet: I don’t interact much, I just try to make conversation (ends up as an epic fail) and laugh like a madman. I don’t talk much either (unless it’s with a fellow metalhead, in which case the words come out in a rush, stumbling after one another) but my thoughts are just pandemonium. The worst thing is just that they all reside in my head, and I know shit’s starting to hit the fan when I start talking to myself and referring to myself in the second person.

4. What do you do when procrastinating?

(You know what, I’d like to change the answer to the first question: procrastination is probably my favorite villain.) I listen to a lot of music—mostly Pantera, because they make me happy and when I listen to them I just get the feeling that nothing’s wrong in the world and that my homework isn’t waiting in some deep, dark recess of my desk. I air-drum on the day before an exam instead of studying because it calms me down. Also, the Internet has spoiled me, especially Tumblr and Figment. I also watch TV when I’m procrastinating—usually Whose Line is it Anyway?

5. Dark, milk or white chocolate?

Milk, though I don’t have anything against dark chocolate either. I’m not a huge fan of white chocolate because it makes my throat feel bad.

6. What are you currently reading?

Stephen King’s The Stand and Inkheart by Cornelia Funke… both at the same time.

7. What’s the one thing you would never change about yourself?

My appreciation of metal music, the way it makes me talk aloud to myself, and the way it makes me more independent when it comes to thoughts and actions. (And yes, I define that as one thing.)

8. Trig or log? (If you’re clueless, I congratulate you on your fortunate life.)

I’ve never done log, so I suppose I’m partially fortunate. I almost destroyed my math textbook in rage over the stove (true story) because trig was cracking my head open gradually from the first time I’d learn what sin and cos meant, but I’ll never take it up in school again and I’ve had it seeping out my sanity for only an unfortunate time of nine months. So, my selection is neither.

9. What foreign language would you want to learn?

Danish. Well, I’m in the process of learning it (and I haven’t made much progress except for being able to ask where the toilet is and saying “goddamn it”) but I’d love to learn it completely and be able to talk fluently. The accent is also infiltrating my English and I’m proud of it. After I’m done with Danish, I’d like to learn two other Scandinavian languages—Swedish and Norwegian. Icelandic and Finnish will result in my disability to speak English. (I also just realized I have a favorite band from every Scandinavian country except Iceland—Gasolin’, Children of Bodom, Tantara and ABBA.)

10. What is your ideal method of death?

Quick, painless, and without even knowing in advance that I’m going to die.

Here are the questions I made up! I apologize in advance if most of them are heavily musically-oriented.

1. What are your three favorite bands/musicians?
2. What’s a pet peeve of yours?
3. If there was one instrument you’d like to learn, which one would it be and why?
4. What do you do before you nod off to sleep?
5. What’s a word/phrase you keep repeating throughout the day because you’re used to doing so?
6. Do you like anything even remotely related to the 1980s? (Please don’t answer Ronald Reagan.) Better yet, were you born in the 1980s?
7. Are you a feminist? Why/why not?
8. Opinions on heavy metal (or really any genre of metal you’ve listened to)?
9. What’s a weird quirk about you?
10. State your life philosophy. (P.S. Yes, you’re allowed to mock life, lemons, lemonade and anything even distantly tied with life.)

Nominees—I’m assuming you guys have less that 200 followers!
Sheridan @ Sher'an My World
Keerthana @ Thoughts Trickle
Skylar @ metallica1698

28 March, 2014


Last night, I had the perfect vision of how today was supposed to turn out. I’d wake up at seven, be a good girl and put on some sunscreen after washing my hair, and go to the supermarket to get some stuff to eat.

It didn’t turn out that way.

I did wake up at seven, but I switched off the alarm clock and went back to sleep, probably due to the fact that I’ve been sleeping in until eleven since school was out. Force of habit. Anyway, I didn’t wake up until ten, and so I was greeted with my dad’s ritualistic, “Good afternoon,” after I went downstairs.

The good thing is, I did wash my hair and put on some sunscreen.

I also did go to the supermarket, but that didn’t turn out very well, either. I needed to buy some avocados and mushrooms, but I couldn’t find the mushrooms so I hobbled over to somebody who was shoveling huge onions into trays and asked him where the mushrooms were.

He gave me an apologetic chuckle, as though immediately realizing that I’d never bought a mushroom before – which is true – and directed me to the refrigerator.

I felt like a clown.

The place had ran out of avocados, so I settled for some pears that looked like apples and a box really delicious-looking strawberries that I couldn’t wait to devour once I got home. I put all of it in my basket and headed over to the cash registers. The cashier, who was busy talking to her friend over the counter, began to bill my items as I apprehensively waited for the total amount to appear on the computer screen which I stared at awkwardly.

Then, like an ass, I told the cashier I didn’t need the strawberries because I didn’t have enough money – which was also true. It felt utterly horrible to part with those beautiful red strawberries and I carried home two ugly green pears that cost me more than a bottle of Nutella, and a package of muddy mushrooms that I had no idea what to do with.

I biked home on the wrong side of the road because I was too lazy to cross, and when I got home, I Googled “how to clean, cut and cook mushrooms”. I learned how to do so, and I decided to rehash the stir fry I’d failed at making last week. I chopped up some cabbage and onions, julienned some carrots and peppers, and anxiously cleaned and chopped a mushroom – which felt really slimy, and I was a little nervous because I hoped I wouldn’t get food-poisoned.

The stir fry turned out blackened, overly salty and with a little too much bell pepper in it. My brother and I ended up gobbling up the mushrooms and the sadly wilted, brown cabbage, and letting the undercooked-but-overcooked bell peppers slide down into the compost pit.

To satiate my still-hungry self, I ate one of the pears. It tasted very crisp and sweet, but eating it made me feel guilty – partly because they cost me so much and also because I kept wondering, “What if this were a cup of strawberries instead?”

Needless to say, the day before yesterday was a lot better. So what if my cat scratched me so bad that I bled? I got three albums off iTunes: Tantara’s Based on Evil, which I’m totally going to submit a review of to Encyclopaedia Metallum; Overkill’s Ironbound and Judas Priest’s Painkiller (okay, yes – I did hop on the Priest bandwagon a little later than most other metalheads).

I also made a fused plastic wallet on the day before yesterday. My mother told me it was very creative, but honestly, it looks like grocery bags sewn together with raven-black strands of hair, so there’s almost a hundred-percent chance I’ll never ever use it in the rest of my life.

Also, yes, I’m aware that I missed last Megadeth Monday. I’ll put up the article for “Killing is My Business… and Business is Good!” on the upcoming Monday. Without fail. Happy now?

18 March, 2014


Inlay card of the low-budget CD of Killing is my Business... and Business is Good!
Revenge n. an act or instance of retaliating in order to get even.

Imagine it’s 1983. Reagan is still president, M*A*S*H is over and done with, Michael Jackson performs the dance move that will forever be known as the “moonwalk”, and Metallica puts out their debut album full of raw riffs, lyrics about kicking ass, and five songs that were written by their ex-guitarist who was kicked out from the band in New York and was subjected to a Greyhound trip to California.

Now put yourself in Dave Mustaine’s boots.

All I can think is, “Bloody hell, he would’ve been enraged.” And he most definitely was. Out for retribution, Mustaine formed Megadeth with a vengeance. Two years later, Killing Is My Business… and Business is Good! came out, and holy shit, was it fast. But was it enough to blow Kill ‘Em All out of the water?

The opening track, “Last Rides/Loved to Death” starts off with Toccata and Fugue in D Minor played on a piano by Mustaine. Ellefson joins in with his bass guitar, which gives Bach’s classic a very eerie, desolate feel. A guitar harmony goes down at 0:29, and after that, all hell breaks loose.

If you needed one piece of music to represent how pissed off Dave Mustaine was in 1983, that opening riff at 0:55 would be your best bet. It’s fast, hostile and unforgiving – and Mustaine’s scream at 1:09 only does better to prove that.

Gar Samuelson comes in with the drums after that, and Mustaine begins to sing. Some absolutely loathe his voice, and others, like me, wouldn’t have anyone else sing over such riffs. There’s something about his tone that fits the mood very well—it’s high-pitched, it sounds vile, venomous, and… it’s perfect for singing love songs?

That’s what Mustiane describes “Loved to Death” as: his version of a love song to his girlfriend at the time, and I have to say, that’s a pretty twisted thought. The lyrics are founded off a very basic formula: boy meets girl, boy falls in love with girl, girl doesn’t love boy back, boy kills girl. “If I can’t have you, then no one will/and since I won’t, I’ll have to kill”—it’s not something you can take very seriously, but it still provides an essence to the song; a driving force.

It’s also worthy to note that Samuelson is very masterful at what he does. Even the slightly crappy production doesn’t mar his talent. His drumming is an intricate patchwork—definitely not something you could air-drum to. He and Ellefson keep the beat going at breakneck speed while Poland and Mustaine dish out riff after riff after riff.

Mustaine’s solo at 3:10 is very vivacious. The way it moves around like a living thing is, in a way, enchanting. It also seems very hyper, which provides some insight into how the lyrics were written and how the band had wanted the song to turn out. I, for one, imagine that the lyrics were put together from the point of view of a narrator whose thoughts are mentally not all there (which is actually pretty obvious, what with the manic laughter that continues after the solo).

As the song ends, the journey of Mustaine’s Revenge Chronicles begins. It doesn’t take an idiot to realize that “Last Rites/Loved to Death” has outshone Kill ‘Em All in a mere four minutes and forty-three seconds. Mustaine & Co. had delved into the depths of thrash metal with most of the metal community in their clutches.