A to Z Blogging Challenge: D is for Death Metal

A to Z Blogging Challenge

D is for Death Metal

by

Wanda Psycho

Death metal is a musical genre which focuses on dark and sometimes violent imagery. It generally utilizes aggressive, growling vocal stylings and loud, distorted guitar riffs.

Certain bands that fall into the death metal category may also be categorized as black metal, doom metal, or thrash metal. 

Black metal, death metal, and thrash metal were all influenced by the British extreme metal band Venom. The American metal band Slayer was particularly influential in the death and thrash metal camps. Of course one cannot talk about death metal without mentioning Death, which formed in Florida in 1983. 

There are too many great death metal bands to mention all of them in a short piece such as this one. 

Death metal subgenres include deathcore, Death/Doom, blackened death metal, Death and Roll, Goregrind, Deathgrind, technical Death metal, melodic Death metal, and Pornogrind.

I leave you with Death to wrap up this entry. Rest in peace, Chuck Schuldiner.

~Wanda~

Hi Dumplings, It's Me on Posterous

The girls (my writing sisters) have been at me to start one of these Posterous blogs. Today seemed like a good time to do so.'

Thank you to my lovely Writing Sister Tempest LeTrope for her condolences regarding my dad's death. He passed away last night at 9:51 P.M. He had been struggling after having a massive heart attack on Valentine's Day. Just two days before my middle sister's birthday, which is really harsh. He was 79 years old.

I'm mucking about on the Internet for a while, kind of in shock, trying to pretend things are normal, misspelling every other word. I didn't sleep well last night. So here I am, creating this new blog in the most fucking faggoty colors I could possibly choose, because nothing bolsters my spirits more than pissing off homophobes. Even if no homophobes ever end up reading this blog, the idea that they might see it in all it's pink glory gives me a nasty little zing of glee.

I'll probably talk about my dad here. Our relationship wasn't perfect, but actually, he wasn't a homophobe. He was just super pragmatic and practical, and being gay in this world isn't very practical. He didn't quite get how anybody could be gay because he wasn't. But he didn't give me any shit about it. When I came out, he said "you sure?" and looked at me like I was nuts. But he already thought I was nuts because I'm such a wet blanket. He let it go after that.

Dad actually liked my fiancé. I think he really liked Dylan being a physician's assistant because he could ask all kinds of medical questions for free. Like I said, he was pragmatic. He also liked the fact that I finally chose a guy who wasn't a complete shithead for a change. He found my previous choices a little questionable. He wasn't the only one.

I know I need to try to get some sleep or I'm going to fall apart. I need to hold it together for Mom, and my sisters. I don't feel really sad right now, just numb. As a counselor I know how this goes. It will come in waves. Right now my mind is in denial.

Death isn't the end, it's just a transition. I'll see you again, Dad. Rest in peace.

Proud to have been your son, even if we didn't always see eye to eye.

Here come the tears.

Adam

For My Dad

Randy Rhoads

December 6, 1956 – March 19, 1982

His death was a tragedy brought about by the stupid actions of another person. He was a beautiful person. I'm not talking about his physical appearance, although he was attractive. Everyone who spoke of him said that he was a kind and generous soul. There are far too few such people on the planet.

The damn fool of a tour bus driver, a fellow named Andrew Aycock, talked Randy and the band's hairdresser and wardrobe mistress, Rachel Youngblood, into taking a ride on a plane which he was piloting. Aycock was apparently on a toot and decided that it would be a lark to buzz the tour bus. He instead managed to clip the tour bus, smash through a pine tree, and end up crashing into a garage, where the plane burst into flames.

I am perhaps revealing a little too much about myself, but I once had one of "those" dreams about Randy. It made me sad when I woke up, not so much because I knew I'd never have him for my significant other or any such thing as that, but because it made me acutely aware that he was dead, and he shouldn't be dead. It made me feel very sad for his family. I wasn't a mother yet at that point, I was only eighteen, so thank the Powers that Be that I wasn't a mother. But I remember feeling sad for Randy's mother and knowing that the worst thing in the world would be to lose one's child.

Randy Rhoads will always be one of my favorite musicians, and his death will remain on the top of my list of tragedies caused by the stupidity of other people.

Grief

I suppose I cope pretty well with my father's passing because he was in declining health for so long that when the time came, it was a relief. The grief isn't as raw now as it was when he first died, but sometimes I still catch myself thinking "I really want to call Dad and tell him..." And then it hits me. 

Flirting with Death

Have some Respect for the Dead

This image was shared by the Australian Paranormal Society

As Suicide said when Trash was grinding against his leg in the cemetery across the way from the crematorium:

"C'mon, willya? Have some fuckin' respect for the Dead!"

My writing sis Lily Strange certainly encountered one whole fuckton of no respect for the Dead when she published her ill-fated novel, Eternal Death: Lost Beneath the Surface, which is currently being revised by my other writing sis, Rose LeMort.

I'm sure that the Dead are not interested in other people's pervy sex fantasies.

Having sex with corpses is straight up nasty.

Attempting to have sex with ghosts is a really bad idea. You could end up with a demon in your bed instead.

I'm extremely interested in what goes on in the Afterlife. I think it's best to be polite to the people I might meet when I get there!

 

Death: The Philosopher

Brush with Death