Let's talk about Coheed and Cambria.

Anyone who has known me for more than a day knows that my favorite band ever, period, was Coheed and Cambria. Until yesterday. Yesterday, I was browsing the World Wide Web, as I so often do, when I remembered that I hadn't done my daily check-up on how my favorite band was doing. I quickly typed my way to Coheed's myspace page, and their Snazzalicious "Neverender" Wallpaper loaded up. So far, everything was fine. I scrolled down to the section of their page about recent news/tour dates, and couldn't help but notice something. Coheed's profile picture had the word "SLIPKNOT" at the top of it, and the cover of Slipknot's new album: "Poorly Written Lyrics, Awful Vocals, and Mediocre Instrumentation: Volume 6". I blinked and looked again. Underneath was the text: with special guests: Coheed and Cambria, Trivium, and another lame band. My heartbeat slowed. I couldn't see, and I'm pretty sure I was unconscious for like 20 seconds. I returned to my computer, and attempted to write a blog post about the situation, but was too damn angry. So I went to bed, hoping this whole thing was a nightmare.
Turns out, it wasn't a nightmare.
Coheed and Cambria are touring with Slipknot.
For those of you who know me extra well, you know I now am required to find a new favorite band.
This is going to be extremely difficult.
As for all my Coheed music, I'm not sure what I'm going to do with it. I will probably have to compeletely separate myself from Coheed society and current events, and ignore everything they do. How will I purchase their new album without paying attention to it? I'm not entirely sure.
So much confusion. So much to do.
I've been looking for a new favorite band, and I'm begging anyone who thinks they can help to try. I'm going to ignore your suggestions and put you down if you recommend bad music to me.

It's safe to say you dig the backseat.

I would be writing, but I'm too pissed off. Sorry.

And you know what?

Have a happy Thanksgiving everyone.

Fortress/Escape

Well, guess who lost something very special to...himself.
Me did.
That was terrible grammar.
Whatever.
Anyway, I recently forgot two very, VERY, special things to me. An autographed copy of Escape, by Therefore I Am, and a copy of Fortress by Protest the Hero. Which is just amazing for me, since, as anyone who knows me knows, I love losing cherished albums more than I love anything else in the world.
JUST KIDDING. I THINK IT SUCKS.
Let's explore this terrible happening.
A couple weeks ago I attended a gathering at my friend Kevin's house. I played Guitar Hero and GTA 4 until about....damn... two o'clock. This is quite an achievement for me.
ANYWAY, I had brought Fortress and Escape to burn to my friend Kevin's XBox 360. So, I leave the next day, and forget Fortress and Escape at my friend Kevin's house. I call to check in on Escape and Fortress, and Kevin doesn't answer, probably because he's in class, I don't blame him. But, he didn't call me back. I was pissed. But this wasn't even his fault. I tell Mom, "We really, really, need to stop by Kevin's house and pick up those GODDAMN CD's! But my mom's too busy cooking/cleaning, and we still haven't gotten them. And I'm f'ing pissed. Damn.

Bye Bye, Beautiful.

Don't bother to write.

Um...

My blog post time is pretty way off. Just keep that in mind from now on.

Let's talk about whose babies belong to who.

Let's get a little something out of the way. Rody Walker has official legal possession of my children. This means if I ever have any babies actually worth keeping, I'm morally and patriotically obligated to feed/donate them to Rody Walker. This means that these:

Are in fact the property of this man:

This way, even if my wife/woman decides to ruin my baby's life by eating healthy, exercising, and reading to it in the womb, my seed will be raised by the god of metal vocals himself, and will grow to be strong and kick an incredulous amount of ass. As we speak, the Pentagon is preparing a defense against the onslaught by the David/Rody babies. They will crush the earth under their fingers, and as men, they will strike fear in the hearts of the gods themselves and blind all those who gaze upon them. Yeah.

Also, in this new future ruled by my babies, it's gonna rain whales.

Get pumped.

"I swear I have compassion, I've just been trained to disregard the prisoner's life: cause I'm a prison guard."

Man.

That was a big poop.

A look back on my poop.

I didn't flush, because I'm sure if I did, I would have clogged my toilet. So get off my back.

"AMEN to the people!"

A Huge Poop.

This afternoon, after sitting on my ass for 10 hours during tech for Our Country's Good, I decided I needed to take a poop.
Expecting an average bowel movement, I strolled into my bathroom, turned on the fan for the sake of my family, and commenced the pooping.
What happened then was unlike anything I'd ever experienced. Allow me to explain.
There are three categories of poop (in order from greatest to least):
1. The quick, painless poop, which is rare and greatly appreciated. This poop takes one flush.
2. The 2-Act poop. This pooping takes two tries, as its title implies. In between these attempts, there is usually a period of wandering around your house, feeling disgusted with yourself, after which you run to the bathroom to complete the poop.
3. Diarrhea. This needs no introduction in the world of poop.
Now, dear readers, you must be asking me, "Which category did your poop fall in, David?"

My answer, mortals? This poop defied genre. After the first part of my poop, I had believed it would be a standard two-act. No big deal, I wandered back to my bathroom and completed it. But then, I did something unexpected. I waited. And the poop continued. I was in shock. When I had finished, I wiped, stood up, and for the first time in a while, I felt accomplished. I washed my hands about four times, and ran to my computer to tell Danny of this amazing event. I felt as though a thousand years of pain had been cleansed from my system, or like I had just done something amazing and wonderful, which I had. Every part of my body felt free, like I had just given birth. Indeed, my friends, my poop was a poop of epic proportions. America has witnessed history, and I'm currently emailing Congress to make a statue resembling my poop in front of the Washington Monument in our nation's capital. Rejoice, people of earth, for my body is free of a great scourge. Remember this day. Remember it well, and tell your children. Never let them forget what happened tonight, for if we do not learn of our history, then we are destined to repeat it.
Thank you.

"If I believed in meat, I'd eat a plateful of our dead."

As celebration of how attractive I am, I've decided to start following my own blog.

Trust me, the title is self-explanatory.

"Kezia, my darling, please never forget, this world's got the substance of a frozen summer silhouette."

Undoubtedly the sexiest human being alive:

I'm not going to lie, sometimes I'm so hot, I give myself goosebumps walking by myself. Sometimes, I see myself in the hall in the ATC, and I doubt my sexuality, because my good looks sometimes come close to turning me gay for myself. At least 41 assassinations have been attempted on me by men all over the world, jealous of my incredible powers of seduction and my unbelievable good looks. Sorry, but David's here to say, and he isn't getting any less sexy, so you other guys best be happy with the leftovers.

"Drop the gun."
-Protest the Hero.

Guess who forgot to end that last post with a quote, like he said he would about 3 minutes ago.

"OOH Yes it is!"
-Rody Walker

And you know what?

You people, if you don't follow my blog, are gonna want to leave comments. So I know someone's out there. Reading this.

DAMMIT!

I forgot to end that one with a quote.

"Don't even worry about it."

ALSO!

In the blogging style of Will Martin, I shall henceforth end each blog post with a quote of great significance.

I'd just like to throw something out there.

One of my friends got me the Coheed and Cambria cover of "Your Love" by the Outfield. This is quite a feat. I almost cried upon hearing it, because I'm the greatest Coheed fan on the planet. I would give up my prostate for Coheed and Cambria. My friend heightened my Coheed experience. They're pretty ballin' as far as I'm concerned.
Also, she threw "Run Like Hell" in there. Fantasmal song. Yeah.

"Do you want to see the galaxy?"

Protest the Hero

I'd like to clear up two major issues:
1. Protest the Hero is really music.
2. Protest the Hero is really good music.

If you disagree with me, you're wrong.

I didn't say I was powerful, I said I was a wizard.

Whilst listening to Chiodos on this freezing evening, I pondered the day's events, and recalled something I had read in Rolling Stone that afternoon. It was the "'06 yearbook" edition, and there was a tiny column labeled "Who hates emo the most?" I immediately looked closer, annoyed by the term "emo". Define "emo", you tools. You can't. Emo doesn't exist. The term is annoying. I listen to quite a lot of music which most people would define as "emo", and you know what it does? It kicks ass. But I digress. The previously mentioned article included testimonials from certain bands with their opinions on the whole "emo" thing. One word caught my eye: DISTURBED. Many know Disturbed as hands down the most obnoxious band on the planet. Now, I can respect your musical taste no matter what, with two exceptions. You can listen to exclusively Justin Timberlake, and I'll say, oh, that's cool. You can listen to Rihanna or Soulja Boy or Akon and only those artists. And you know what? I'd be okay with that. I would respect your musical taste. By now you're thinking, "But, David, you've listed all those awful artists, what could possibly be your two exceptions?"
Here they are. I cannot and will not respect your musical taste if you listen to Tokio Hotel...or Disturbed. It's almost unfathomable to me how a normal human being can listen to Disturbed and not have a brain hemorrhage. They're so god awful words cannot describe the pain they cause my ears.

Enough said. Disturbed is awful. I've never envied the deaf more then when I listen to the opening line of "Into the Fire". This line speaks volumes about the band's creative integrity, thought-provoking songwriting, and social awareness. The line, of course, is "AH, AH, AH."

Deep. This is the man, who, in Rolling Stone Magazine, said that emos are a "disgrace to rock and roll".

Sir, you're a disgrace to rock and roll. Please stop making music, for the sake of the planet earth.

The amount of posts I'm making in so little time is ridiculous.

Right now I'm listening to Goddess Bound, by Protest the Hero. And I realize how much I miss a very awesome person. His name is Will. Will Martin. He has a blog @ IwonderWhatwillsUpto.blogspot.com, which you should probably read, but this isn't an advertisement. It's a serious thing. I met Will when I was in 7th grade at quite possibly the greatest school in the world, BFCCPS. The first thing I heard when I reached the top floor wearing undoubtedly a t-shirt with some fart joke on it, and with my favorite Pink Floyd hat stowed into my backpack, the very first thing I heard was: "I went and saw SNAKES ON A PLANE over the summer. THAT'S what I did." I felt comforted. I felt awesome'd. The quote was later credited to my friend Timmers.



Later that day, on my way to Recess, I saw Tim shouting at me with some random fat dude, also shouting at me. The fat dude's name was Will. I started talking to the two, I was in a musical with both of them, experienced the wonder of something called Tenacious D with them, and stumbled my way through central district chorus with them. And Will was always right there, being awesome, giving me lady advice, and one day, moving to Africa.



Yes, Africa.



Moving there.



I found out about this terrible, terrible thing at a play rehearsal for Oklahoma. Mrs. Babineau, Will, and I were speaking in praise of Will's powerful mane, when Will said "I might have to cut it off for Africa." I was pumped. I asked him if he was taking a vacation/safari there. He said no. Will was moving to another continent, almost before I had really gotten to know him. He said, "Don't worry about it man, it's gonna be in a year." I calmed myself, thinking a year is enough.



His departure came too quickly for all of us. In the summer after 7th grade, Will moved to Quebec to learn French. We threw a going away party for him. I wrote a song and cried. Will still visited America once in awhile, which was pretty ballin'.



About a year after that, in summer, Will came back to America for the final time. We spent our last hours together in North America watching Lord of the Rings and playing fortress. We discussed the possibilities of Will staying here in America. There weren't any. Will left for Africa, and I haven't seen him since. I miss him. A lot.



"How about the power to kill a yak from 200 yards away...with MIND BULLETS?!? That's telekineses, Kyle. How about the power...to move you?"

Therefore I Am/The keyboard solo in "Limb from Limb".

Wow, this is weird. I'm kind of getting used to the blogging thing, so I apologize for three posts in a day. But, you know what band is also awesome, local, and awesome? Therefore I Am. Check them out.


And the synth solo in "Limb from Limb" by Protest the Hero is arguably the most ballin' thing ever.

Protest the Hero.

This is becoming an issue, so I just have to clear it up. Protest the Hero stomps. Any band who claims to be better pales and poops their pants in comparison.

Coheed.

This long overdue post concerns what is possibly the greatest band to ever exist, named Coheed and Cambria. Regardless of how many people read this, my job here is done if just one person does. Without Coheed, life itself would not exist. Claudio Sanchez's explosive vocals will asplode your brain out of the back of your head, and his hair can kill a rhinocerous somehow. I'm not sure if that's even how you spell rhinocerous, but however you spell it, Claudio's hair can kill it. Guess what I'm listening to right now... Coheed and Cambria. Yeah. The acoustic demo of Welcome Home. And my mom's home. Right now. So I'll be right back. It's cold outside. And the acoustic demo of Welcome Home just blew my mind. Here I've provided a chart which clearly proves my point:

See that red line? Yeah. Moving on to the acoustic demo of A Favor House Atlantic, I realize that Claudio's voice and recording talent are fantastic. Even outside of Claudio, all the other band members are fantastic. Travis Stevers' guitar solo at the end of the Light & the Glass blew 40 of my minds, and the altered lyrics on "A Favor House Atlantic" blew them again. This blog is starting to sound really sexual. I'm going outside. I have a life.

Hey, it's a blog.

How miraculous it would be if anyone read it. If people don't, whatever, I'll take it down. This is my first post, an experiment of sorts, and uh, yeah, my name's David, I go to a fancy arts school in Natick where they teach me to act and sing and such, as it turns out I'm the only person in my school who listens to Protest the Hero, and other bands I love are Coheed and Cambria (or pretty much anything else coming from Claudio Sanchez), Metallica, Pink Floyd, Rush, Primus, Therefore I Am, Dream Theater, and uh...Iron Maiden. They rule.

I'd bet money nobody's reading this. But, whatever. Here we go.