LIFE: Slayer @ Budweiser Stage

Slayer performed their last concert at Toronto's Budweiser Stage on May 29, 2018 and I was fortunate enough to watch them.

I never listened to Slayer before, but I do now. To prepare for the show, I queued up their setlist in a Spotify playlist and it didn't take long for me to head bang listening to those killer riffs.

I don't normally drive to these things, even to such out-of-the-way / poor-transit-options places such as the Bud Stage, but leaving work at 5 made it the only practical option. Besides, once I got there, and much to my dismay, everyone else was doing it. Lakeshore was crowded and so were the closest parking lots. I managed to find a parking lot on the Exhibition grounds for $12, which is far too reasonable, and made the "far" 10 minute walk over to the venue.

Anthrax was playing when I arrived, and of course I'm not familiar with their work, but I did know that one song that was playing as I was reaching my seat. In my section, 14 kilometres from the stage, people were sitting for most of their act, except for the last song. Then, with all of us standing, the band led us to sing "Oh Canada." The crowd even diverged during the French and English parts. I stood there, silent and impressed, and also respectful, I hope, since I was tempted to sit. From what I saw, Anthrax was excellent, with enough energy to get me excited to see the rest of the show. They're another band to add to my list.

Next up was Lamb of God, and my section stood up for them. On my left was a guy built like a fridge, and he was standing comfortably next to my buddy who got there just in time to my right. That left me to stand behind them, this wall of men, and there was no where else to go for any of us. I tried not to let that ruin the show for me, but I was quite uncomfortable, and my legs were starting to ache - I wanted to dance, to mosh, but we were all standing, and I was standing in the worst possible position. Besides that though, Lamb of God performed well, enjoyable to watch and listen even though I only knew their song "Laid to Rest."

Slayer (f*ckin' Slayerrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr), was last, of course. I wasn't going to let discomfort get to me, so when they started, I stood quickly in front of the man-wall. I thought I screwed over the fridge next to me, but in actuality the arrangement was more comfortable for everyone involved. Thank goodness I got that out of the way.

But how was their performance? Superb. They nailed the large-stadium format nicely, with pyrotechnics and a great stage presence that I could only tell from the screens (see above). My neck hurts from headbanging.

The night ended with tears in Tom Araya's eyes as he said goodbye to Toronto from the stage for the last time. I held it together. The woman in our row next to my buddy said he has the nicest smile in the industry. I have to agree, and seeing him well up and say thank you to us was touching.

I'm glad and feeling blessed I had the chance to see them at all. I'm not a major fan of the venue, but it's the best performance I've seen from the crappy seats. The three bands I saw played really well and I'd consider seeing them again. Wish I could say the same for Slayer, but that was quite the final send off. No complaints. Cheers.

WRITING: Showing and Telling

I've always believed in showing and not telling when writing: let the characters act, and let the reader think about it their own way. That's the beauty of writing, isn't it? To share with the reader an abstract idea, and let them think about what you wrote. Like a movie, right?

I can't help but notice that my most recent works are almost all action, with very little summary. I would get a certain pleasure and satisfaction from writing a solid scene, where the characters just acted naturally, and I simply wrote down what they were doing. I used summary (or "telling") as a way of glossing over something, or as a means to get the next scene rolling. When I wrote out the actual action instead, the story evolved organically. In writing in action-mode-only, sometimes that scene I wanted to happen, the one I planned for, couldn't, and thus the resulting plot felt far more realistic. I was using summary as a crux, and not using it properly.

We learned in class this week that it's not always so cut and dry. That the summary, the telling, is almost as important as the showing. This was a breath of fresh air for me!

You want to summarize when your characters are doing something habitual, or something that isn't happening presently. We looked at "This is Happy" by Camila Gibb to see what this means.

In order to know someone who is at some level unknowable, you must leave yourself wide open. If you don't, you foreclose the possibility of learning something critical about this person you need, your parent, the person upon whom your survival depends. It's like time-laps photography; your lens at maximum aperture in order to capture something fleeting and elusive. The problem becomes one of calibration. How to protect yourself in the process. How to capture something without going blind.

In the above passage, that's all "telling." An interesting anecdote about people.

This next one blends telling and showing:

We were too young to understand what was happening. My father came over a year in advance to find a job and a place for us to live. I cried when this strange man lifted me up at the airport. Three months after our arrival, a package arrived from my paternal grandmother. She was a great maker of fudge and had sent us a box of it. I remember the sense of anticipation as my moher peeled back the lid and the collective disappointment as the contents were revealed: green and furry, having spent six weeks on a ship. I understood, somehow, that something between here and there had been broken.

Camila effortlessly does this throughout the excerpt we read, the strategic use of showing and telling in the same paragraph. She very broadly introduces a concept and inserts specific instances to back it up, to show us what she means. It's quite a treat to read.

If I can bring up one final example, it will be from what I'm currently reading, "Before They are Hanged" by Joe Abercrombie:

'Merchants,' grunted Harker. All the merchants in the world, it looks like. They crowded round stalls laden with produce, great scales for the weighing of materials, blackboards with chalked-in goods and prices. They bellowed, borrowed and bartered in a multitude of different languages, threw up their hands in strange gestures, shoved and tugged and pointed at one another. They sniffed at boxes of spice and sticks of incense, fingered at bolts of cloth and planks of rare wood, squeezed at fruits, bit at coins, peered through eye-glasses at flashing gemstones. Here and there a native porter stumbled through the crowds, stooped under a massive load.

In this scene, Glotka is walking towards the seat of power in Dagoska, and taking in the sights as he walks by. It's an excellent way to describe the city to the reader, with Glotka being a fish-out-of-water, this is as new to us as it is him. That being said, the merchants are quite well animated here, and I imagine each of their gestures and actions being incredibly important to them. How would Glotka know, though? So all we get is this summary.

"Telling" is a lot like essay writing. It's what textbooks do. It's what I'm doing right now. But it's no less important than "showing." I'm glad I finally learned that, and I hope I can practice it soon.

WORLDBUILDING: Map Making

I tried drawing a Medieval city for the first time.

Truthfully, the visual aspect of my world is the most challenging for me. I find my best images come out in text, either in a story or on the wiki, though I wish I could be more picturesque about it. I think the settings I create in my head are too simple.

I've run one D&D campaign in my life and for the most part got by with Googling "large d&d city map" or "free d&d dungeon map." For my writing of Fantasyland I haven't bothered to make any maps of my own.

I suppose it's because I wanted my imagination to take my characters where they need to be and where they would just go naturally. It works, and I'm not sure a visual map might make things easier. However, I wonder what kind of stories I can write with a map in front of me.

So I opened up this video which sat in my "Watch Later" queue on Youtube for far too long and followed along with The Questing Beast to varying success. His idea is to build the city organically. That means to start with a main road, and as the city becomes more important, some roads will lead to that road. As people begin to settle, they'll want to take shortcuts to the roads, and that's because buildings are in their way. For our purposes, we do the roads first and then the buildings. What results is beautiful, in that satisfaction-is-beauty kind of way.

My first map looked like my first map ought to look. The roads are far too wide, contributing to the strange X-shape from overhead. Still, it might be a cool concept for some type of town at a crossroads.

My next map I tried something a little differently. When it came time to divide the blocks of buildings to face the roads, I penciled in some of the main roads, just as a reminder of where the people were walking. I found that this created a more natural feel to my design of the city, and I think it shows. This one makes a bit more sense to me. And it looks a bit like a Fish Head.

Cities, or neighborhoods within cities today might be better off designed in such a way. A city looks nicer when citizens determine where buildings go based on their foot traffic. It's nice to walk everywhere, a city is for the people living in it, after all.

I'm looking forward to drawing more maps in the future. I've always enjoyed city-building games like Cities: Skylines and Lethis: Path of Progress, and to be honest I got the same sort of excitement making these pictures. Fish Head city might become the setting of my next Frances story. In it, he'll find himself investigating a crime. I was going to set it in Amherst, but I think it might be fun to develop Fish Head city more and figure out what all those buildings do.