The Slacker Initiative

Lyric of the day?? 

My first post ever on this thing had a lyric of the day? 

1) I totally stole that from Tycho @ Penny Arcade. 

2) I need to remember to look into that again for future reference if I become a dj… 

3) just kidding, there is no three. 

With DJ SlacknHash? 

So, I might try my hand at a metal radio show online. (I also might not, you’ve seen how far I’ve gotten my other experiments off the ground.)  

I kinda really like the idea but I’m also really anxious about the idea of putting my voice out there for public consumption. The gang I’d be affiliated with is really supportive, though, and on-air brain farts happen to all of them, too. My husband said “well, it’s the Internet, so at least you don’t have to worry about the FCC coming after you.” 

I guess my biggest fear is not knowing what I’m talking about. I can say “I like this!” and “This band is touring!” but I don’t know anything about these bands anymore.  

I came to metal recently, within the last 5 years, and discovered it is so much more than the picture I had in my head. It’s been this cultural awakening that really has me questioning the benefits of genre distinctions. I avoided metal for a lot of years because I thought I already knew what it was and what it wasn’t, and that limitation nearly prevented me from discovering the depth of musicality metal has to offer. 

So, I find myself an adult who has dropped herself into the middle of this ongoing conversation where I do not know, understand, or appreciate the context in which it has taken place: I love metal music, but know nothing about The Scene; I don’t throw the horns; I’m irritated by synchronized head-banging (although that could be a necessary evil to prevent serious head v head injury, what do I know?). I can probably count the number of drummers I know by name on one hand, guitarists on two, and vocalists might need me to take off a sock or two. And so, I panic and wonder whether I’m even qualified to have the conversation at all. 

Additionally, my own feelings about genre limitations makes it really difficult to care about making a distinction between folk/pagan/Viking metal, or to appreciate the distinction between speed/thrash, death/doom, symphonic/Gothic, nu metal/metalcore, at least when it comes to my personal preference and deciding what I like to listen to. 

On the other hand, if I want to talk to the natives I ought to show some respect for the language, right? If nothing else, *knowing* the language should help me to have the conversation. 

Is enthusiasm enough to qualify me to host a show.? 

My second biggest fear is committing to a time slot,  then flaking out &  disappointing my friends. 

My 3rd biggest fear is picking a stupid DJ name. The gang already knows me by my Twitter Handle, so I already have the Slacker identity going for me, but Slackerinitiative was too long for twitter, so I had to shorten it by a couple vowels and even I can’t remember how to spell it… So, SlacknHash came to me last night while I was trying to sleep, and DJSlacknHash was an available twitter handle so I snatched it while I remembered, but I can always deactivate it later. I hardly use twitter anyway, so I’m not entirely sure why my twitter handle mattered to me apart from it being what I have used to sign into the Chat room.  

I guess that last paragraph is kind of about presenting a consistent online brand/identity, and being easy to find/contact if need be. Which is certainly putting the cart before the horse, but that is the way anxiety and ADHD(J) works. 

I couldn’t ask for a more supportive metal family to become a part of, and deep down inside I know I am making up shit to be scared of, so I think I’m going to try it. 


Common Side Effects…
March 4, 2014, 9:39 am
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I also need to make more posts.  I think people might get the wrong idea when they visit my page and see the words “Cat Torture” in large friendly letters on my side bar.  Hmm, what’s a nice friendly tag I can use here…

In slightly related news…
March 4, 2014, 9:02 am
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I can’t let my cat in the office because I can’t be buggered to put my violin away.  (Theory being I am prone to Out of Sight, Out of Mind behavior, so keep it in sight.  Also, I’m lazy.)

The cat is not happy about this arrangement. 

Practice Makes Progress

Historically I have been very bad at making the time to practice any of the long list of instruments I’ve collected over the years.

Last month I had the very surreal experience of having two different random internet strangers read my post about Cake and Equality.

This got me thinking: How can I encourage myself to be a better musician?  The answer was obviously by making me feel guilty for torturing my audience!  Wait, that’s not quite what I meant.  Or is it?

So, since the whole Slacker Initiative concept was originally some kind of attempt to illustrate my brain’s strange punishment/reward system, I thought it might be appropriate to post about my struggles with practicing here.  And yes, there will be videos of my progress. This is both to keep me honest regarding the quality of my playing and to reward myself by chronicling the progress that I make.

So, random denizens of the Interwebs and Yonder, thank you for being my teeny tiny audience of strangers who I do not wish to disappoint.  (Being my teeny tiny audience does not in any way obligate you to actually *watch* these videos.  They are recommended only if you have a strong desire to annoy your cat and/or neighbors.  The important thing is for me to put them “out there” where people might see them.)

So, without further adieu, here are two little gems from today:

February 13, 2014, 11:32 am
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written in response to a particularly yummy photoshop on Facebook of David Tennant in a kilt. The photo was posted by a rather vocal feminist friend of mine.  In the end, I did not have the guts to post the comment. but here it is for the whole entire internet to see. 
“look, David Tennant just jumped out of the cake of gender equality! That cake looks so yummy, I’m totally going to EAT it!”

“The Cake is a lie”

mouth-full-of-cake “Wait, what?”

Which is to say:
1) I like cake
2) I think everyone should get to eat the cake
3) that only happens when the rules/expectations are applied to everyone equally.

Therefore, in a world where everyone gets to eat cake, one must accept that cake for people who like women will be a little curvier than the cake that David Tennant’s photo-shopped head jumped out of. If one does not accept this, then the cake is a lie, and no one eats cake.

Alternatively, if one does not appreciate the objectification of women, and also embraces the tenets of gender equality, one must also not appreciate the objectification of men, otherwise the scale is not balanced, there is no equality, and no cake.

But then, I like to look at women, too. So maybe I’m biased? Cake for everyone! But we need fuzzy cake for the bears… And there is no such thing as a bad cake! There just might be cake that is not to your liking, but that doesn’t mean it’s wrong to like it, provided the cake was old enough to provide legal and informed consent prior to be photographed. Etc Etc, and now that the metaphor is sticking to the pan, I’m going to go eat breakfast. Not a metaphor. I’m hungry and suffering from a total lack of cake. And cinnamon rolls. Phooey.

I wrote this and put it on the internet!

and didn’t spell-check it or anything!

so, I posted a comment over on the The Bloggess‘ site about a couple scary books I read when I was much younger,  I now feel compelled to actually post something here, possibly so that my comment might say “theslackerinitiave recently posted “regurgitated title here.”

I’m a fraud.

To make up for it, here is a dream I had a few months ago that I am convinced no one actually read when I posted it on Facebook:


Doctor Gaiman and The Master, a Neil Gaiman/Doctor Who fanfic dream sequence (yeah, wtf is right)

Working Title: My dream of awesome, or at least a scene of awesome from some  

random dream I had that I don’t remember.   June 13, 2013

Writer: Kim D

Assistant Writer: Kim’s crazy ass subconscious mind

Disclaimer: In all fairness, I have elaborated upon it somewhat through the course of the morning as I tried desperately to cling to whatever vaporous strands of memory remain, but the gist goes like this:

Synopsis: Neil Gaiman fights an epic battle through time and space against The Master… on violins.

Cast:   Neil Gaiman

The Master

Amanda Palmer

[ed. note: if we can’t get the actor who played him most recently on Doctor Who, Simon Pegg will have to do!]

Setting: Various, kind of like the Hello Sweetie montage ending in an a city square with blue grey brickwork, surrounded by classical architecture

Scenes, Assorted: see setting, several exotic landscapes marred by some evidence of the Master’s twisted influence, a bizarre pursuit through time.  For fun, possibly include the hallway trope of cartoon fame.  For awesome, this hall should be modeled after Sigil from Planescape.  (that didn’t happen in the dream, the Sigil hallway.  I just came up with it, but I like it!)

Main Scene, on screen Neil and The Master:

Neil catches up to The Master in an oddly deserted city square, described above.

Shot: An overhead camera would be used here, pulled far back, black birds startled

by their arrival flee the scene.

[ed note: dialogue could be added here.  possibly just a simple acknowledgement like Neil nodding and saying “The Master,” somewhere between curt and cordial.  The Master replying in kind with “Mr Gaiman.” While I enjoy a good trope, I think we can avoid the “so, we meet at last” line.]

Neil and The Master faceoff, old western style.  Close up of eyes as they size up their opponents (panels overlaying the back drop which move off screen when the music starts.  They begin to play, slowly approaching each other.

Music gets furious, frantic, the closer they get, but the pace of the approach remains constant.  Cool camera stuff should be done here, but none of that slow motion matrix dodging stuff.

There is no obvious signs of a battle ensuing as they pass each other, just glorious music.  A breeze ruffles through Neil’s hair.

The music stops after they pass each other, they’ve both taken about a pace beyond the other, so they are now about two paces apart and facing away from each other.

Shot: (this scene screams anime) Begins as single image of the two in in profile.

Neil hangs head, and arms drop to his sides as if in defeat.  (no dropping the violin!)  Through his hair we see a slow smile creep up the side of his face, like it is sneaking up on his ear.

The Master is exhausted, but quite obviously exultant.  Think Sting-as-Greased Up Fayde Harkonnen, the eyes and nose, the jut of chin.  Feral and triumphant grin.  Shiny but not sweaty.

Shot/Effect: After Neil’s smile makes it’s entrance (stage face?), Neil’s half of the scene blacks out, leaving only a small square cut out of his panting profile in one corner, like a comic panel. The Master’s half of the screen is now the main camera, and like a second comic panel. Throughout this sequence, Neil’s half remains dark apart from the panel of his face (should that panel be offset from where it was originally?).

Main camera pans slightly up and to the Master’s front as it zooms in on his head and shoulders.  (slow zoom, this is a moment of dawning realization, not sudden and shock inducing.)

[ed note: This next part is pretty much verbatim (can something that is visual be verbatim?) from my dream.  It won’t actually work but I want it to remain in the script as a point of reference.  The actual script will continue afterwards at the “**”]

As the shot closes in on The Master’s face, an off white powder appears on his lips.  His eyes begin to look less certain.  He gingerly tastes the powder with his tongue, like a fighter checking his lip for blood.

The only dialogue of the scene.

The Master:  (quietly) rosin? (incredulous) Rosin??!  (whips around to accuse Neil’s slumped shoulders, the camera does something visually appropriate)

The Master: (outrage) You broke my <noun>! [ed note: the part I spent the whole morning trying to remember is this word.  The feeling I got was that somehow Neil’s bow had whispered across The Master’s face, breaking the skin of his lip and that the rosin from his bow had entered the tiny wound and that was somehow a very bad thing according to The Master, maybe it was special rosin?] (pivots on one heel and stalks away like a child taking his toys and going home) He always breaks my <nouns>!</nouns></noun>

End Scene.  Dreams are weird like that.


As the shot closes in on The Master’s face, an off white powder appears on his lips.  His eyes begin to look less certain.  He gingerly tastes the powder with his tongue, like a fighter checking his lip for blood.

The Master:  (quietly) rosin? (incredulous) Rosin??!

(whips around to accuse Neil’s slumped shoulders, as he does so the camera zooms out and The Master’s panel expands into the darkened half of the screen and over the smaller panel of Neil’s face.)

The Master: (outrage, blustering a bit. Points bow at Neils back, like an accusing finger, accenting his words) You!   You *cheated!* (this next bit is a bit wavery, as his eyes are rolling back in his head) But you never cheat…

Neil turns around to catch The Master’s violin as The Master collapses.  He looks down at the The Master and his smile fades.  He looks sad, almost guilty, certainly thoughtful.

Over Neil’s shoulder and out of focus, Amanda Palmer approaches carrying two violin cases covered with impossible luggage stickers/stamps. She arrives and sets the two cases on the ground next to The Master’s crumpled form.

Shot:  The screen splits again, we have two panels.  One is a vertical rectangle, and displays a full body shot of Neil as he stands there looking sad and slightly rumpled, presumably shot from Amanda’s point of view.  The other is more squarish, like the aspect ratio of a 4×6 snapshot and shows Amanda, the violin cases, and a little bit of The Master where he lies on the ground (possibly a manicured hand and shirt cuff with fancy personalized Time Lord cuff links or something.  At Amanda’s discretion, she can pocket the cuff links, if she thinks this is the sort of thing Amanda-the-Companion might do.)  Where Neil’s panel is vertical, Amanda’s would be horizontal.

Amanda seems to recognize that Neil needs a moment and sets to putting the two violins away in silence, she glances up at Neil a couple times, and eventually curiousity gets the better of her.

Amanda: Soooo, that wasn’t rosin, was it?  (still working, but watching Neil from the corner of her eye).

Neil: No.

Amanda waits a moment, tattooed brows raised expectantly, then smiles to herself and shakes her head as if she should have realized he wouldn’t care to elaborate.  She snaps the lid shut on the second violin case.  Neil offers her a hand to help her up and she accepts.

Shot: returns to a single pane.

Amanda hands him one of the cases and shoulders the other.  They begin to walk.

Shot: (high angle, possibly roof height?)  They are walking towards the camera, away from The Master who is still crumpled on the ground in the background.

Amanda: (glances sidelong at Neil and smirks)  You know, I had the biggest crush on John Hurt when I was a kid…

Neil: (scowls darkly)

Amanda: (laughs however she would laugh if she were teasing her husband.  This really needs no stage direction, I think.)

Fade to black, leaving one panel highliting The Master for just a moment before it, too fades to black.

End Scene.

Some additional notes I made in the comments after:

-damn my brain! I haven’t written any thing in so long, and in the time between tossing this up here and taking a shower I’ve thrown together a lot of alternate dialogue and other things of beauty that I really want to write down, but I have to go to work! Gah!

-quick notes for alternate stuff that I want to write but can’t put down just at this moment:

But… it wasn’t even sonic…

Neil freaks out and breaks the 4th wall.

I’m a snuffer! I’ve snuffed!

What character development? This is fanfic.

Doctor Gaiman’s Deathly Hollow


It made a lot more sense when I wrote it several months ago… KMD 11/4/13