Vampyrique

I'm albums behind on Rotting Christ. Rituals plays whilst I'm philosophizing the mind with the ghosts of ancient Greece. Pretty good so far.

Touché, Shakespeare! but, alas, I fear (unlesseth I'm wrong) graven it clear deep falleth 'pon sleep, 'neath songs writ a-drear whence sounds benumb, attrist-eth my ears! thence eyes wept shut, dreams doth volunteer dark times medieval, from past they appear!

A fascinating topic. Many factors contribute: the piratic plundering of the industry's future with regards to filesharing, the webbing of group-think ghettos, safety in homogeneity, no risk nor reward, everything easy with modern convenience, new apathetic artists indifferent to the cathartic art of suffering. It's best we hit rewind, methinks.

I'll definitely give it another go, but that was my opinion on first listen when I heard it weeks ago. I did enjoy the instrumentals too.

At volume loud enough to hear when Satyr calleth'd deep upon deep; for droppeth by droppeth drye did his well's ideas weep.

I considered buying this album. Having never listened to them before, I found myself liking what I had heard, especially the first few songs but felt it fading further on.

Is this a real person or an oversized lawn gnome? Really, I can't tell.

I'll try my luck again. I'm hopeful there's a slice of humble pie left but doubtful I am.

Just peeting a glass of eggnoggy moloko.

Is that book any good? Did it come with a free bicycle horn, or a kazoo at least?

Jimmy Norton sets the record straight: 'Black Sabbath greatest band; Led Zepplin, The Who, all overrated.'

Goth and/or gothic, a forever-hot topic! The moon shines down on thee.

Passion burned, pages turned, and now with months behind, undead, some books of mine of splendid spine, causally were read: Lempriere's Dictionary by Lawrence Norfolk (great, albeit challenging) The Chemical Wedding by Lindsay Clarke (pretty good) Ægypt by John Crowley (excellent) Numero Zero by Umberto Eco (not bad but underwhelming) Infinite Jest by David Foster Wallace (mixed on some things, but enjoyed it overall) It by Stephen King (excellent) The Crying of Lot 49 by Thomas Pynchon (great, but wish it was longer)

O my brothers, come viddy and let feast thine silver-like glazzies on the heft of this haul, of starry worlds, horrorshow and all. More on the way. Fancy me, dear droogs, all smarts in me gulliver now, scholar-like and oomny.

I'm not sure how I'd rank Immortal's catalogue, but I think the albums that you rank in the middle (Blizzard Beasts, Diabolical Fullmoon Mysticism, and Sons of Northern Darkness) are actually my favourites. At the Heart of Winter, Pure Holocaust, and Battles in the North would occupy the mid-tier. I remember not being overly impressed with Damned in Black or All Shall Fall either, but I'm willing to bet they're better than I give them credit for; they're long overdue for another listen. From what I've been able to sample, the new album sounds like it could have been released twenty years ago. Although Abbath's croak is missed, I find this change in direction refreshing and exciting.

In my mind and in my car, we can't rewind we've gone too far! oh-a-a-a-oh! Pirates came and broke my heart put the blame on CDRs

Talk about overreaching, now that's a joke I just can't get over! Help me bridge the gap.

You're right, it's not authentic Australian. You'd know what it means if you'd read John Fowles' The Magus which I recommend you do!

A couple of honks on the bicycle horn was all that I was after. But the Internet curtailed my attempts. Like a troll being escorted off a bridge rather than beneath one.

Don't forget to take a piece out and have yourselves a wuzzamaroo. I hope that counts towards me learning Australian.

Requiem's right, even succubacy doesn't count.

Even Australia is touched by the icy breeze of the grimbitten frosty winter realms! Best you slip on your pro-wrestling tights and commit to arabesque postures upon the coldest mountain side paying homage to Blashyrkh the Mighty Ravendark!

Are you familiar with Perdido Street Station? I bought this one a while back but have yet to read it. I only read a couple of chapters, but it seemed interesting.

All I wanted to do was add one more lame pun to my post, but a pop-up message kept informing me that too much time had passed so I could no longer edit my post, and then when I tried once more I was directed to a page informing me that I was banned. Now that is funny!

That's a given, but I can't tell you how many reviews of old books I glance at that are full of complaints, rated poorly or criticized harshly because the author's views were not - and couldn't possibly be - in sync with contemporary views, or if certain aspects of everyday life back then manifested themselves within the story. Why continue reading the author's works then whilst complaining about morals if the moral incongruity between then and now is so well known?