Peppermint Gloom

Okay, so last night I gave my general opinion of Lady GaGa. Well, today I’ll be review her newest album, The Fame Monster (Deluxe Version). I bought this album in particular just because it was a good deal. Almost every one of her songs was put into this album. A couple of the songs are very hip-hop and some are slightly… controversial. But, as I said, I can never deny that I admire Lady GaGa above most others for getting this far. I don’t like a couple songs, jut because of a little vulgarity, but I hear it on Top 40 anyway- not that I’m a big fan of Top 40, because I’m not. Anyway, like I said, I love “Brown Eyes” and “Speechless”, which are both very soft and sweet, but I also like “Bad Romance” and “Paparazzi” for their energy. This morning when I told my friends that I spent $14 on a Lady GaGa album, they all looked at me like I was insane or something. But, you know, I think that this is pretty good art. She’s pretty awesome, I must say.

I’ll probably post more later,

Luna

Not to be pessimistic, but I don’t think I’ll be feeling any healthier for a couple more days… Feeling sicker today, but it was made better with a strawberry milkshake to ease the pain in my throat.

On another note, I decided to check out some different musical genres. Today, I tried Lady Gaga. Okay, I’ve always been intrigued by her fabulous taste in clothing, her amazing performances, and the fact that she’s both awesome AND widely accepted. It was only today that I realized, OH MY GOD she can sing! She’s so interesting, and her music is a little hip-hop, which I don’t particularly like, but she pulls it off well. She also kind of balances the beat-boxiness with songs like “Speechless” and “Brown Eyes”. “Speechless”, I must say,  is really awesome, made even more so by her performance of it with the burning piano. I hear some people say that she’s a little too… random with her performances, doing totally unrelated things in her live performances and music videos. But, you see, that’s what makes her so great! She doesn’t seem to care what the general public thinks about her art. Because that’s what it is! It’s performance art, which makes it appeal to me! No matter how ghetto it gets, I can’t say that I don’t admire Lady Gaga, because she’s made it so far just by being totally crazy, weird, and creative.

I’d better go wallow in illness and self-pity now, so good night, good morning, good afternoon, good day to you all,

Luna♥

God… I caught a cold! I can’t believe I’m sick right before the holiday season! I can’t stop sneezing, and my shoulders hurt, and I feel stuffed up… Sorry for the complaining. Just had a sort of bad day. Apparently, my glasses are uncool, people don’t like me because I’m smart, I’m a geek, and I’m a total loser. Not so fun, when you mix it with sickness and stuff… Well, now that I’ve gotten everyone all depressed, I’ll start actually writing!!

Okay, so I mentioned the band Tokio Hotel some places, I believe. Well, today I’m going to review their most recent album, Humanoid.

I must say, I love Tokio Hotel to start with- Bill is really awesome and Tom is such a great guitarist!- but this was really a Win! Their previous english-language album, Scream, was fabulous, of course, but very… safe. Very typical, to be honest. But this time, TH has gone edgy, I am pleased to say. In lyrics, instrumentals, voice, performance, and almost everything else, they have definitely upgraded. Not only have they started using mechanical sounds and effects (which I personally love), but they have become what I dearly hoped they would become- weird. Bill and Tom describe their lives through this, expressing how they’ve always felt, and I quote, “alien.” What I love about this album is that it gives a hopeful message to everyone out there- that there’s always light at the end of the tunnel- yet it also describes loneliness, darkness, and death. Reality without a pessimism, fantasy without a hint of unwanted optimism, Humanoid inspired me. In fact, it still IS inspiring me. To all of you rejects out there, just look where Tokio Hotel ended up. Then think about yourself and don’t think of what could be, but what WILL be.

Live long and prosper,

Luna

Haha. I posted this one just for fun. I love Doctor Who, and did this in Paint a couple years ago. Not very good, but cute.

This one wasn’t fabulous, but I think I got an okay shot, considering I was in a moving vehicle.

I kind of like the glare that came off of my camera in this one. I think it makes it look somewhat magical.

I would love this one if it weren’t for the little bit of road showing…

I really like the shot of this! It’s one of my absolute favorites.

I love, love, love this photo! I shot it while I was traveling. I went to this great little bed and breakfast and they had the most wonderful things there! Paperweights, vases, art, et cetera…

 Well,

Live long and prosper,

Fly on,

Blah blah blah,

Luna Charon

A Twist in Time

     As a young girl, Sally Nightingale used to climb up to her rickety, decrepit little attic. She would then jump to the decaying rooftop of her dilapidated mansion, looking down on the moor, swinging her feet off the side of the molding shingles. It was 1932 and Sally had just turned fifteen. As always, she rushed to her attic, but something was different. This time, there was a small black door, small enough for an elf. Being a disinterested girl, Sally ignored its existence. As she looked around, though, the walls began to close in on her. She opened the cupboard door, seeking a little sanctuary. As the door opened, six large rats scurried in and Sally fell to the ground beneath. The rebellion succeeded. The balance was lost.

     As one might guess, these rodents were something out of the ordinary, for they were not of matter. Not like you and me, who are composed of energy. No, these rats were of shadow, nightmare you might say. They could do anything you could possibly imagine, simply by dreaming it. Unfortunately, as nightmares, they’re wishes were often unpleasant. They tortured our world. Sally lay there on the rotted wooden floor, clicking her shoes in thought. This moment, as trivial as it may seem, was the most important moment in her sad little life, for this was the beginning of the hatred that seeped through time to the past, the present, the future, and all of humanity.

     Two years later, Sally Nightingale and her family had moved themselves to London. Merely by coincidence, this was a very well-liked nesting place for the shadows our world was invaded by. The smoke and smog made sustenance an easy feat, due to the fact they lived off of hatred. Sally was about to be married (to her dismay) to a wealthy banker who went by the name of Harold Smith. Sally climbed to her roof top and sulked for days until the London fog she had inhaled began to catch up to her. “I shall not marry him. I shall not!” she said angrily to herself as she packed a sack of only her most precious belongings. And so our story begins.

     Sally walked by a small, narrow alleyway when a dark figure shifted in a dismal corner.  Alarmed, she dashed away. The figure peered at her through the many draping folds of its hooded cloak. Some long and thin object in its bony, alien hand gleamed as it caught the moonlight. The hood slowly slipped off, revealing the frightening figure’s face. It was Mr. Smith. He was Messenger of nightmares.

     Sally’s nights were often spent pondering her day, but her one last peaceful night was spent only with sighs of exhaustion and discomfort. Being destitute, she grudgingly slept in an alley, already missing the luxuries of her mansion. Suddenly, a tall, slim silhouette shadowed her. It was the Messenger, craving her pain. He leaned down to her as she slept and whispered something in the girl’s ear. As he got up and turned the corner, Sally gave a shriek; one ear splitting, stomach churning, blood curdling shriek. Sally had been given the ultimate punishment; a nightmare.

     You may be thinking, “What harm is a measly dream?” Well, this wasn’t just a dream. This was the nightmare that would haunt Sally for all eternity; the nightmare that she could never leave. This was the nightmare she died in. This was her little bit of forever and it was a torture. Sally sat in the middle of real nothingness, where there was no color, no sound, no light, no feeling. There was no sense. Sally, literally, was nothing. After dying in a nightmare, one’s soul leaves one’s body and enters the dream world, where one loses all mass and feeling as one is absorbed into nightmarish tragedy. This is what happened to Sally Nightingale of London.

     A hooded figure with bony, clawed hands approached. “Thank you, Sally Nightingale, for being our sole trustee for all this time. Though, I’m afraid you had served your purpose the very moment you left the moor. My apologies for the pain you suffered as we killed you,” it cackled, sounding sorry by no means. “Sir, I haven’t the faintest idea of what you’re talking about, for I have never seen such a disgusting creation as you in my life!” Sally replied hotly. “Oh, surely, Sally Nightingale, a girl as smart as you must wonder where that certain horrible image you get in your head comes from; those horrid things you spot from the corner of your eye. That was us, child. We are your worst nightmares.” As it spoke, it drew back its hood, black as midnight, to reveal a large and fanged rat’s head. The rat pointed to her with its long, crystalline “walking stick.” The battle seemed to be won as Sally was decimated. There was no more world. Humanity lived to death.

     The Hooded One gathered his battalion. “It’s time for time, gents!” he exclaimed as the army gathered at their traversable wormhole. They had gathered enough exotic energy to blast one deep hole through time. Unfortunately, they were not entirely sure of where it led. The rats filed one by one into the black hole, following the mighty Hooded One. “Egad!” he exclaimed. They had landed smack in the middle of October 31, 1932. It was their victory day; All Hallows Eve. They had gone back to the beginning. They saw Sally Nightingale, unconscious on that disgusting wooden floor. The Hooded One bent down and stroked her cheek with one sharp claw, leaving bleeding scratch marks. “Little Sally, how enjoyable it is to destroy you over and over again,” he snickered.

     Sally suddenly shot to her feet, grabbing a shard of broken chandelier. “What are you, fowl demon?” she cried wildly. The rat sighed then shot her a creepy smile. The shard fell from Sally’s sweaty clutch and tumbled down the stairs. “Ms. Nightingale? What was that?” her nursemaid called, graced with no reply. Sally turned around and hurried to her roof, panting. The Hooded One followed, hovering rather than walking. On the roof of the moor’s proud mansion, the girl quivered pathetically in the corner. The sweet autumn chill lingered over the high shingles. Sally leapt to her feet and grabbed the rat’s large crystal staff and ran at him.

     The thing about time is it’s bendable. Anything can happen; a break; a healing; a death too early… Sally pushed the rat off the roof, feeling him grip her ankle with five sharp talons. “You will die this night, Sally Nightingale,” he crowed, dragging her down the rough shingles. “Your time has come, child, and all for naught, for I cannot die, you stupid little girl!” Sally grasped his sharp staff and banged it on the shingles over and over until a small fissure appeared. The vile rodent’s eyes widened as the crack spread and the staff shattered. A blue light emerged from the shards and went through the rat as he shrank to the size of an average rodent.

     Sally grinned with relief as she realized she was out of danger and unconsciously slackened her stranglehold on the narrow shingles and lost her balance. “No,” she sighed, terrified. Her skirts blew in all directions, as if mocking her. Sally uttered her last words as she fell to the moor’s unforgiving brush, “I’ve rid myself of fowl hardships, of putrid souls, of horrid trips. And after all is said and done, the battle shall be mine; I’ve won.” And though her life was about to end, Sally Nightingale took more comfort in these words than any others in all of her many mixed up worlds.  With one last sigh, the girl hit the ground, caressing her treasured locket that would forever be wound around her neck. Sally was dead, her face in a surreal, melancholy expression that she had never etched upon her face before.

     Sally Nightingale lay dead on the moor, unnoticed; broken; solemn in all her deathly sorrow. Who knows how long it took the cruel family inside to notice her absence? Not I. Sally’s long hair was fanned out beneath her head as a dark haired woman knelt beside her. The woman looked at her glassy, unseeing eyes and one crystalline tear slid down her cheek. The woman took Sally’s hand and pulled her living soul to a standing position. Together, they walked into the rising light as dawn broke, following some small creatures as they stampeded to the final destination. We shall never know what Sally Nightingale saw after that day, but we can be sure that she is in a world much kinder than that of nightmares.

All information © Luna Charon. All rights reserved.

     Howdy, folks. My friend and I have been debating over whether anime exposes us to real culture or not. I said that anime IS culture. Not only is it a big part of Japanese culture, it’s a culture within itself. My friend said that anime is always about “a chick that likes a guy and then turns into an ultimate form. It’s either that, porn, or transformers.” This is her wording. Not mine. I replied that, though many animes are pornographic and/or sexist, Transformers was never an anime OR a manga. I also told her that her statement about girls who like guys and turn into divine forms is not a dominating subject matter. I have only REALLY seen this in “Kamichama Karin.” And I guess you could say that Natsumi and Momoka in “Keroro Gunsou” turn into “ultimate forms” in a couple of the episodes and movies, when they use robotic suits in order to fly or battle or whatever. Obviously, there’s a little of this in “Ultramaniac”, since its about a witch girl that uses her powers to try and do good, which she miserably fails at. But, seriously. Those are three animes. Also, anime DOES expose us to culture. You would see this if you watch Studio Ghibli’s “Howl’s Moving Castle”, “Princess Mononoke”, “Tales from Earthsea” (the animes. Not the live action!), “Whisper of the Heart”, “Nausicaa of the Valley of the WInd”, et cetera… You can also be exposed to culture by “Bottle Fairy”, which is actually a very educational anime. It’s about these little fairies that come to Japan and have to learn about the “human way of life” so they can eventually become part of it. So, obviously, you will learn about a different culture by watching this. You can post a comment below, blah blah blah.

Live long and prosper,

Fly on,

Blah blah blah,

Luna