radio414

Don't actually look for that stuff; it's mostly a gag I wanted to do since I said I want something "pretentious" (scarequotes mine) and the anime is anything but. If you are looking for "underlying themes", and again, this is certainly not part of what the author or animation team was going for, I spent some time in an early draft with a more in-depth analysis of exactly what Yokoi and Seki are ignoring. The phrase "I think Global Warming is an important issue" appears on a chalkboard at one point and there's a video about the dangers of smoking, so I was going to go into the glitz and glamor of media versus the existential threat of death on a both personal and societal level but it turns out that's not a very fun or funny thing to write about (I did want to be at least a little fun and/or funny) and the whole bit was taking up a larger percentage of the review than I was comfortable with so I cut it.

Oh wow a threefer. Or, I guess, if you count all the follow-ups, that's, like, a six-or-seven-fer. I guess let's go one line at a time. The most annoying noise to me is, well, "nails on a chalkboard" is the classic simile, but what I really hate is the sound of an eraser on a chalkboard. It gives me goosebumps, and not the nice ASMR kind (also I don't really get ASMR so). This is compounded by the fact that, not only is this sound more common than nails, but there's also a texture to the sound that I can't really describe over text. It's the worst. The preamble to the song question, though, is where I listen to new music, and it mostly comes from twitch.tv/Kathleen_LRR, who runs an every Saturday pirate-radio music stream. She puts together a playlist of some new music she's gathered from, say Pitchfork or The Quietus and then some viewers suggest things and it amounts to twenty-or-so new songs a week that I listen to. There aren't any vods, so you're just going to have to tune in 21:30 Pacific (again, on Saturdays -- I'm actually tuning in right now as I type this) for that if you're interested, but the point is, with so many new songs, I've developed a pretty broad taste. Even things that would be outside the streamer's taste, I'm generally like, "Yeah, that wasn't bad" at worst. Even things that are artistically dissonant like the alarm clock at the beginning of Pere Ubu's Non-Alignment Pact or the flatline at the end of Mr. Bungle's Pink Cigarrette are things I've gotten used to over just, like, one or two listens. I guess poorly produced wobble-bass in the middle of a dubstep drop could make my ears bleed, but I don't have, like, a specific example of that. And even that is something I've gotten used to on occasion. The "memetically" annoying songs, too, are things I don't see a mood towards. Never Gonna Give You Up (yes that is a link, yes it goes where you think it goes) is more a banger than people who just think of it as a meme realize, for example, but more broadly, there's a sort of melodramatic charm to most of the songs that become memes. Something like Let It Go might be an outlier in this instance given how engineered it was to be the power ballad and smash hit of Frozen, but I somehow avoided the backlash to that specific song so it still holds a place in my heart. There are other examples there, but that's derailing the question again. Anyway, once we've dismissed the "songs with weird noises in them" and "songs that get/got overplayed," I guess all we're left with are the repetitive songs. Baby Shark, for example. But I've gotten more enjoyment out of Baby Shark than I have annoyance, even if some of that is the schadenfreude of other people listening, so I don't think that counts either. As an anechdote to sort of round out that particular question, a little bit after I heard John Mullaney's Salt and Pepper Diner comedy routine (if you're not willing to listen the setup is that he set a jukebox to play Tom Jones' What's New Pussycat twenty times in a diner jukebox), I decided to go through with listening to the whole playlist Mullaney describes. And the result? I mean, I didn't go insane or anything. In fact, I really just tuned it out after the first few repeats. And that's a pretty bombastic song to tune out. I guess I just have musical Stockholm Syndrome. Speaking of inflicting quote-unquote bad music on others, you're talking to someone who performed John Cage's 4'33" at two different talent shows. The thing about "boring songs," though, is that I really just don't remember them. I could tell you about this track on the Tokyo Flashback-Psychadelic Speed Freaks compilation album I listened too recently that I didn't like because it was a lot of chaotic noise and wailing, but that album has, like, twenty songs and averages five or six minutes a song so I'm not going to go digging back to find it. I could tell you how I tried to listen to noise music once and how that didn't do anything for me, but I'm not going to go digging for links there either. Another anechdote I'll share, though, is this moment from Cow's music thread where I would submit these almost-but-not-quite ambient/electronic songs and Cow would be like, "that was a lot of intro and no other part of the song" which meant it just did its thing for six-ish minutes and then faded out. Which I like. It makes good music to do other things to (though in retrospect, reviewing music, no matter how casually, is not something you want to be "doing other things to"). So that's not really going to bore me either. I'll listen to Justice's Planisphere and Fuck Button's Surf Solar as much as I like and be happy about it. If we're talking long songs, though, and to callback to John Cage, he does have Organ²/ASLSP, where ASLSP here means "As Slow As Possible". There's a project that wants to make it last 639 years, and if you're anything like me, you don't have that kind of time. It's kind of a joke answer, but it's the only thing close to an actual answer I've got. EDIT: Oh, actually, now that I think about it some more, when I was nine-ish my parents took my sister and I to see a touring production of Cats. I haven't gone back and listened to any of the music (and have continued to avoid it since the movie came out because... well, because cats) but I remember being bored out of my skull for however long that musical is so pick a song from that I guess. I haven't listened to Organ²/ASLSP all the way through, so I'll ignore that one. I mentioned a couple long songs up above, but also whenever I dip my toe into classical (I like to pretend I'm cultured even though I'm definitely not), I find these really long songs, so probably one of those. Yes, I know those are composed of multiple movements, but, like, Planisphere is technically four songs in its EP, but nobody -- especially me -- cares about any of that. The Surprise Symphony is, like, twenty minutes long, though, and that's just the tip of the iceberg. Longer compositions exist but I can't name any especially long ones off the top of my head (again, definitely not cultured). The most recent long song I listened to in that vein (not longest, but maybe "longest-adjacent") is Tartini's Violin "Devil's Trill" Sonata in G minor. And there's also a thirty-minute version of Garcia Peoples' One Step Behind if classical isn't your speed. Plus those other two songs I mentioned above (though I know for a fact you've already listened to one of them). There's a whole variety of options out there if you're interested in looking for long things to listen to.

heavy metal the song not the genre

heavy metal the song not the genre

Coach Clara glanced at Peter with a look that Peter felt could only be of disdain and said, “Good effort, but wrong.” So now he was zero for tw- okay, maybe if you put his actual card game victory in the wins column, he was one for three, but it still was a pretty good reason to just shut up and listen even if the team was asked another group question. Thankfully, none came, just instructions on how the rest of the meeting was going to go. More dueling, though with everyone just spread out amongst themselves while Makoto and Hana took center stage. Most of the team was pretty quick to latch on to other people besides Peter, which, well, he partly expected, given his recent performances. He stood up, hoping that it’d help him announce his availability, though he was still in a daze, and he found himself wandering over to Hana even though she obviously had a partner already. Blood sugar. That would help. And it certainly wouldn’t hurt to ask, right? He gestured at the boxes in front of Hana and asked, “You’re not- how many donuts did you bring?” Hana looked down at her boxes and paused as if she’d just realized something important, going as far as to even silently mouth out some numbers. The actual answer was right there: three boxes of a dozen each meant thirty-six, but Peter hoped that she’d gotten the actual meaning. When Hana finally came back up, she said, “I should've brought more, forgot that other people might want some,” she said, “but I don't mind if you take a few anyway!” Peter settled on a simple glazed donut, just the one, and took a bite. The sugar rush didn’t kick in right away, but the act of eating helped him calm down, and he quickly finished off the rest of the donut before turning around to look for a partn- “Well, you heard her, we should be dueling, so let’s have a duel!” It turned out, his partner had found him. Her name was Makoto if Peter was remembering the last meeting’s introductions properly. Between the donut and being sought out, that was two good things right in a row. It actually put him in just the right mood. He was ready now for whatever Makoto was about to throw at him. But first came the pleasantries. He brought a hand to his mouth so he could swallow the remnants of the donut, then said, “Sure, where do you want to, uh, just over here by the benches I guess?”

The Lord is my light and my salvation—whom shall I fear? The Lord is the stronghold of my life—of whom shall I be afraid? Psalm 27:1 (NIV)Melissa’s History teacher droned on and on and, as dutiful as she was, despite how hard she tried to concentrate on the lecture and her notes, two large obstacles stood in the way. The first was the cell phone in her left pocket, which actually wasn’t that large at all (even for a cell phone), but the fact that it might buzz at any moment, signifying Gabby’s response, kept breaking her concentration. She could have even sworn that it had a few times. The rational part of her brain tried to dismiss these signals. After all, shouldn’t she have been in class as well? Which teacher allowed students to text? And yet, well, among all the other notifications that were probably false, two stood out as being real, definite alerts. Probably. One of those, surely, was the answer she sought. She really wanted to believe that it had been a surprise to both of them and she was being stupid for even coming out and asking like she had. If it hadn’t, though, what did that mean? If Gabby had known, why hadn’t she sent a text letting her know, just like Connor had? But! Again, those were all thoughts she wasn’t supposed to be having right now. Right now was for the history of Ambrosia, not petty (and it was petty) relationship drama. Of course, the second big obstacle in her way then rushed in to fill in that attention gap. The second obstacle was that the sky had turned a familiar shade of magenta. Her classmates closest to the window noticed it first, obviously, but whispers had rippled straight down the line until everyone, including Melissa, couldn’t help but sneak peeks out the window searching for any signs of the duel going on. Melissa couldn’t see any, but then again, she was pretty far away from the window. The only one who wasn’t taking any peeks was the teacher, which was impressive, Melissa thought. They did snap at one student who’d taken too daring of a peek but they refused to hear out excuses, so they lectured on despite the curious nature of the sky. The only thing that did manage to interrupt them was someone saying “Mokey!” from the back corner of the class. Everyone, including the teacher, looked outside at once, and sure enough, a flock of Mokey Mokey floated into view. Most of the class cooed or waved, too. “Hi, Mokey!” somebody said. “What are you doing so far away from a duel disk?” The teacher tried to get back on track with a “Yes, it’s very cute but if we could get back to the sociological impact of ADMIN as modern Ambrosia was developing” but it was to no avail. Even the Mokey Mokey seemed to voice their displeasure with some of them tapping on the glass. The sound was an odd one. It was kind of, but not quite like rubber, and as more and more Mokey Mokey joined in, both the frequency of the sound and the volume increased. The Mokey Mokey were very much swarming the window now, and the sound had changed to something more like a roll of thunder. Nobody was cooing anymore; the mood had changed to nervous Then she noticed something. One of the Mokey Mokey was turning red, and the glass was starting to crack. She was out of her desk faster than she could think, and to the door in less than a second. She shoved it open and shouted behind her, “Everyone, this way!” Not everyone heard her, but those nearest her did, and they too rushed the door, then those closest to them, and so on. The teacher did their best to keep everyone orderly, but it was all Melissa could do to hold the door open and watch everyone scatter in whichever direction they could manage in their attempt to be as far away from the dreadfully angry Mokey Mokey. Melissa went back for her bag once everyone was out, but she immediately regretted the move as soon as she reentered the room. More of the Mokey Mokey were that angry red color now, and in one final shove, the glass shattered and they all started streaming inside. Panicked, Melissa swept up whatever was hers that she could manage in her arms and started to run. And there was really only one place she could think to run to: To the nearest bathroom. It was a men’s restroom, but Melissa was too terrified to care, and as soon as she locked herself in the stall furthest from the door, she rationalized it to herself that nobody else was probably going to care right now either. In fact, she was a little shocked to find herself the bathroom’s sole occupant. “Okay,” Melissa said. “Now what?” There was a low rumble and the faintest hint of a BOOM from somewhere outside the room. Several of them, actually, one after the other with barely a pattern to any of it. Melissa held herself in a ball and rocked back and forth on her toilet seat. What was going on? The only other thing she could think of was to make sure other people were safe, so she took out her phone. The first thing she saw was a message she’d gotten in class. Fairly certain you guys noticed it too...dunno what's going on, but this isn't a bad time to get used to Duel Space if you haven't already. Stuff like this, it's pretty much this club's element anyway! Souji wrote in the entertainment club’s chat. Was he serious? She almost texted him exactly that but managed to stop herself. He was okay, it sounded, at least for the moment. Instead, she wrote: From: Melissa To: Souji, Sai, Hoshiko, Kyouko, Akari I think I just heard a bunch of explosions. Is everybody alright? and I’m safe. She sent similar messages to Jun and Elizabeth (obviously without the plural pronoun), and then went to Gabby. But Gabby had already sent her a message, one concerning a topic she’d almost forgotten. Yes. My apologies. Melissa paused for a long while, but she tried -- really tried -- to not dwell at the moment. There were more important things to worry about right now. From: Melissa To: Gabriela I’m safe but I’m worried about you. Are you okay? There was nothing else she could do. Melissa double-checked that her phone was on vibrate (of course it was), set it on the ground, curled back up into a ball, and waited, hoping for something nice to happen for once.

“Peter, you made a pretty big misplay with Maiden…” Charlie said. They kept going, but it was those words in particular that sent Peter digging back into his bag for his deck box, and, once he’d managed that, flipping through is cards one after the other until he found the card in question. He already knew what it did, of course -- how could he not? -- but he still had to physically reread it. He had to prove Maiden’s effect to himself, no matter what Charlie said. Of all the misplays, why did he have to miss that one? Peter felt his cheeks flush with embarrassment. Nobody was really looking at him besides Charlie and maybe Avriel and Coach Clara, but that didn’t really make matters any better. His inner monolog -- the internalized voices of his parents -- were going ballistic. His mother was just laying into him (“Come on, Peter, remember what we’ve taught you? Rhythm. Take some breaths before you play,” and so on), and all his father could say was a sarcastic, “Reading the card explains the card.” He wasn’t even happy that he’d won anymore. All that really did was deflect Charlie’s other criticism, that he played “too rigidly” whatever that meant, and that one probably wouldn’t have hurt at all anyway. Instead, when Charlie finished their lecture, he somberly nodded his head in acknowledgment, again when Coach Clara addressed them as a group, and packed up his back once dismissed without saying a word.The actual talk with his parents, given how frequently they called and how interested they were in his performance, but he also didn’t want the real-life lecture on top of his internalized one, a lecture that seemingly had not stopped playing since it started. Sure, it receded into the recesses of his mind during classes or the more important of his myriad extracurricular activities, but in those in-between moments, it came back in full force. “Do you remember what your cards do?” they said. “How about we go over it again one more time?” “Hello? Peter?” Peter snapped back to attention, and his wandering thoughts faded away. “Sorry, yes, I’m still here.” “Here,” once again, was pacing outside the door, phone to his ear, and a pair of concerned parents on the other end. Among the various updates, he’d told them that he’d beaten one of the co-captains at tryouts, and that he’d thought he’d learned something even though he’d won, and that thankfully had been enough to keep them from prying more of the details. They told him they were proud of him (“Keep chasing your dreams, honey!” they said, which stung a bit) and also updated him on their life, a process that was significantly more rambly and not really worth repeating to anyone outside of they were doing well as well. “We’re not making you late, are we?” his mother asked. “Second impressions are just as important as first impressions and if we’re holding you up we can just call again la-” “No, I’m not late,” Peter said, though it was starting to get pretty close. “I’m, yeah, no, I’ll be fine.” “Okay, well, anything else you want to tell us? Anything else going on in your life?” His father chimed in, “How’s that girl in your Community Service club doing?” “Dad!” “Teasing! Sorry! We’ll let you get to your team. Congratulations again on making it! We always knew you would.” “Love you!” his parents said in unison just before they hung up.Peter felt the same walking into the duel team’s gymnasium that he had the first day: nervous and wondering just how he was supposed to present himself. Was he supposed to have gotten over it by now, just a little bit wiser and more thorough in his card comprehension? Because that certainly wasn’t happening. He relaxed a little as he approached the bench, though. Coach Clara was casually on her phone, Hana was gorging herself on doughnuts, and everyone else seemed not to pay him any more mind than they had the previous day. Plus, as he sat down, he remembered he’d brought a set of bicycle playing cards this time. Just knowing that soothed his nerves a little. Coach Clara started the meeting moments later. “Who’s ready for some practice?” she asked, a question Peter hoped was rhetorical. He wasn’t going to have to do that whole “cheer and then the asker says, ‘Let’s try that again,’ and everyone cheers harder” thing, was he? The answer to that question was no, he didn’t have to, but that was just because it immediately lead to another question: How many people could duel in the gymnasium at once? It was a pretty easy question, Peter thought, and he raised his hand, though other people seemed content to just shout out whatever numbers they wanted. Hana had gone for the “you can have as many duels as you want” strategy, which was bold, while David’s more concrete answer still ended with him waffling about variables. “Two people,” Peter said once he’d finally accepted that putting his hand up was getting him nowhere. “One duel, two people, however you want that answer worded. Not really a variables sort of question, right?”

Chris saw the runes on Sergei’s back lighting up and became acutely aware that they were being watched. Some of that was, yeah, Lana and Estellise were right behind him, but there was more to it than that. And between all the shuffling the party was doing, was there something more? Almost… squeaking? It turned out it wasn’t just early-dungeon jitters. Almost as soon as Chris had even registered the sounds, out came a pair of rats. He very nearly jumped out of his skin; they were huge! Rodents of such an unusual size were things Chris hadn’t even believed in until he was finally confronted with them. Lana was the one to break him out of his flat-footed shock, even if it was likely unintentional -- her own battle cry as she charged the rat coming up the rear, greataxe drawn and raised, was probably enough to snap anyone out of anything. He was ready now, and his sword was already drawn. His movement was deft -- the kind that could only come from sneaking around a creaky old mansion in search of sweets -- as he wove his way around the battle before ending up right behind the first rat (or right in front of Sergei, depending on how you looked at it). His stab was considerably less practiced, but (he hoped) it was enough.

All little Timmy Bobbysoxer knew was war. Oh, sure, he "knew" other things, like how to count to a thousand or how to make little Scorbunny ears with his shoelaces and so he wouldn't trip on them, but any time he tried to learn anything more, his thoughts would drift off to reminisce about his heroes. People like Oichi or Hideyoshi, even Nobunaga if he was in the right kind of mood, these were his people, even more than the kids at the playground who said they were totally into war, but when Timmy asked them what Pokémon was linked to the great warlord who had united the kingdom of Ransei, all they ever said was "what?" or "you made that place up." It was Eevee. True war historians would have known that. Timmy was a fan of Pokémon battling, too (who wasn't?), though it wasn't for the same reasons as everyone else, as far as he knew. It seemed to Timmy that to everyone else, a Pokémon battle was to demonstrate a trainer's bond with their Pokémon. That was what everyone said on TV, anyway. And Timmy could easily imagine caring about those same qualities. What he wanted, though, more than anything else, was the glory. Oh, to win a Pokémon battle! The stakes didn't matter to Timmy; even the mildest of confrontations would do. But the idea of winning, the idea of being congratulated by an opponent, when he closed his eyes he could almost see it happening right in front of him. All this (and more, but mostly this) was why, when Timmy Bobbysoxer turned ten years old, when the local Pokémon Professor announce they were giving out 'Dexes and Pokémon, he jumped at the call and ran all the way to the lab, just to get in line. He didn't even think about which specific Pokémon he wanted, he just knew that he had to have one. The line was already tremendous when Timmy got there. To his young eyes, it must have been a mile long. And yet, the Professor seemed to have just the perfect Pokémon for each child who approached. Kids who dug around in the dirt got Onixes and Geodudes. The twins who refused to leave each other's sides were handed a Plusle and a Minun. As the line slowly shrank and Timmy was able to get closer to the Pokémon left available, one immediately caught his eye. It was an Eevee. Of course! Who didn't know about his fascination? The Professor certainly would have known, and gone out and found just the right Eevee for him. It all made sense. Everything in Timmy's life up to that point made sense. Which was why, when Timmy's turn finally came and the Professor gave him a Pikachu along with his Pokédex and a few starting Pokéballs, while the kid behind him (the obe who was always indecisive and a bit boring) they got that coveted Eevee, Timmy was crushed. He tried not to let it show, after all, he hadn't even known it was an option until he was already in line, but deep down, he knew his disappointment was there for all to see. What good was a Pikachu anyway? Sure, Timmy had heard of Pikachu that could surf or could wrestle or race faster than any other Pokémon, but none of that was useful to Timmy. An Eevee could be anything. A Pikachu was just an electric rat. It would be no surprise to anyone, then, that Timmy Bobbysoxer's first Pokémon battle was against that dirty, stinking kid who'd taken his Eevee. The battle was as fierce as endless volleys of thundershocks and tackles could be, but it was Timmy and his Pikachu who came out on top. But then something Timmy was never able to explain happened. Or, to be more specific, nothing happened at all. His opponent just gathered up their fainted Pokémon and disappeared into the crowd of onlookers. They didn't even pay for Timmy's victory; the Professor had to do that after the fact. And worst of all, Timmy didn't feel anything. There was no glory in what had happened. Even the onlookers, who had politely clapped when it was all over, had already started to disperse. Timmy Bobbysoxer is still chasing victory. Sure, he has won many Pokémon battles, but he's never quite achieved that sense of elation that he's looking for. The idea of that feeling grows stronger by the day, too. The bigger his accomplishment, the bigger his inevitable disappointment becomes. It's become almost too much to bear. And Timmy's never seen that Eevee kid again. He wants to. He wants to make the Eevee kid apologise from taking his glorious moment away from him. But even though he gets glimpses out of the corner of his eye, even though he'll occasionally hear an Eevee happily cry out after it's trainer, whenever he looks, he never sees anyone or any Pokémon of the sort. (oc dont steal)

This was what Elsie had been looking for. When she’d offered to spar with anyone and everyone, her primary focus was a need and/or want (depending on how honest she was being) to prove her worth to the group. It was a focus she’d succeeded pretty well at doing when fighting Tricky, thank you very much. The other need, though, was to see what she who exactly she was going to be working with. She needed to make sure they were her equal. And while “equal” was a pretty strong adjective in relation to the young witch, she still couldn’t help but feel satisfaction and awe at the beast and the dragon slayer locked in combat down below. The other half of the room had its own action going on as well. A whole new batch of combatants had arrived: Wada, Lucine, Lach, and… well, she couldn’t actually remember the last person’s name (she hadn’t said it, right? Didn’t cats have, like, three different names?) but her presence certainly did not go unnoticed. In fact, it seemed like she was trying to be noticed; she was posing like she was trying to distract everyone around her. She wasn’t fighting, though, and now that Elsie was looking, neither was Lach. Had he been, though? He certainly looked pretty worse for wear, and Elsie had spent a pretty long time just ogling the image of that beast and the dragonslayer locked in combat. She hadn’t even seen them come in, after all. She flew a bit closer to get a better look, and that only confirmed her suspicions. He had to have been hit by something, and - “Elsie!” Elsie flinched as a massive BOOM erupted not too far from where she’d just positioned herself. The Dragon Slayer and The Thing-That-Had-Been-Alexandre were both now pressed against the ceiling close -- too close -- to where she’d just been, and though they remained there for what seemed like an eternity, The Dragon Slayer did eventually bring his opponent back down to earth. She took a few breaths and looked over at her shoulder. Corbin looked pretty shaken, from the way his feathers were ruffled to the way he looked this way and that or how he simply radiated stress and worry. “I’m alright,” Elsie said. “Thanks.” That seemed to calm Corbin down a little, but now that she was paying attention to him, his excess fear was starting to rub off on her. Even if she did stay, where even was she supposed to be looking? She told Alexandre she could handle herself, and she had meant it, but with so much going on and how spent she’d been, it only would have taken one errant projectile or flying combatant to knock her off. Elsie guided her broom down closer to Lach and called out to him. “Hey, you okay?” she said, “I fought Tricky earlier and I think I saw what I wanted, so I was gonna head out. You looked pretty spent so I figured-” She heard The Dragon Slayer saying something in the distance and cut herself off. “I’m going to throw you at the raven girl,” was what she managed to hear. “Yeah, I’m not really into getting huge monsters thrown at me, so now seems like a good time. Can you walk or do you need me to fly you out of here?”