absonovs-blog

[absonovs-blog]

@lithified

He can feel the adrenaline pumping through his veins, pulsing behind his temples.

He’s excited.

It’s been a while since he’s actually taken a step forward with his career. A week ago it seemed like a fleeting desire that he’d get to play in a band some day or eventually. Right now, holding a stack of flyers in his left hand and a staple gun hanging off his hip, he is putting things into motion.

And it’s all thanks to some guy that found him playing in the park on his day off. Ain’t life strange?

Said guy is accompanying him on his journey to canvas as many places as possible. In addition to putting their flyers up on telephone poles, they’re popping into local bars that do live performances at least once a month. As much as they’re looking for their third man, they’re also looking for places to play at.

Some of them are a little on the seedier side, but he’s not one to complain as long as they’re getting paid.

Getting paid for playing music has been his dream since he was a kid. This is a rush.

“Might need to take a minute to rest,” he says, “And not just because the shots are half price here for the next half hour.”

He tacks a piece of paper to the cork board near the door and turns to look at his most recent friend. He wonders if he’ll ever be able to wipe the smile off of his face.

“But that certainly bumps up the incentive to stick around. Waddaya say? First one’s on me.”

[absonovs-blog]

PLOT CALL —

Looking for threads with or without plot, aimless or structured.

Para, script, novella all accepted, though the last may take me a while to finish. Right now, I’ll take anything.

I’m desperate.

So yeah! If you’re interested, I’m down for most anything.

The only thing I won’t do is what I refer to as a “cafe thread” - something where there’s just small talk and no real direction or reason for them to be talking. Awkward dialogue... oh man.

BUT YEAH! Just let me know, through messenger or ask, if you’d like to do something and we can work it out.

[absonovs-blog]

WHAT YOUR MUSE CAN DO

– repost, do not reblog!!

tagged by: @moonqom​  tagging: “whoever the hell can actually check off drive a submarine”

BAKE A CAKE FROM SCRATCH | RIDE A HORSE | DRIVE A SUBMARINE | SPEAK A SECOND LANGUAGE | DANCE | CATCH A FISH | PLAY AN INSTRUMENT | THROW A PUNCH | BUILD A DECK | ICE SKATE | UNCLOG A DRAIN | PROGRAM A COMPUTER | CHANGE A FLAT TIRE | FIRE A GUN | SEW | JUGGLE | PLAY POKER | PAINT | FLY A KITE | SCULPT | WRITE POETRY | CHANGE A DIAPER | SING | SHOOT A BOW AND ARROW | RIDE A BIKE | SWIM | SAIL A BOAT | DO A BACK FLIP | PLAY CHESS | GIVE CPR | PITCH A TENT | FLIRT | STITCH A WOUND | READ PALMS | USE CHOPSTICKS | WRITE IN CURSIVE/ CALLIGRAPHY | USE AN ELECTRIC DRILL | BRAID HAIR | MAKE A CAMPFIRE | MAKE A MIXED DRINK | DO SUDOKU PUZZLES | WRAP A GIFT | GIVE A GOOD MASSAGE | JUMP-START A CAR | ROLL THEIR TONGUE | DO MAGIC TRICKS | DO YOGA | TIE A TIE | SKIP A ROCK | SHUFFLE A DECK OF CARDS | READ MORSE CODE | PICK A LOCK

[absonovs-blog]

lithified:

Got nothin’ better to do, the kid says, and Sungjoon laughs. Hardly more than an exhale, but he can relate. Even when he’s working, it’s still a fucking waste of time. If he can skip out on his obligations long enough to make it up to Jung-gu one of these days, he might just take Jo up on that.

He follows into the unfinished space, and it’s no surprise to anyone that his eyes are automatically drawn to the guitars. The rest of the room is a bit of a mess, but those, at least, are kept apart from the chaos. They look in good condition. The amps look decent too, though it’s not like he can afford to be picky. He hasn’t owned one since high school.

And though it’s tempting to go take a closer look, to plug one in and see how it feels in his hands, there is too much unexplored territory on the other side of that wall. He heads through the door without preamble, taking in the layout of the shop before finding a place to start.

There are all the requisite stand-bys every self-respecting record shop has – his eyes skim over metal–alt-metal–nü-metal–black metal–death metal to punk–post-punk–new wave–goth rock–grunge. There’s mainstream and obscure, foreign and domestic – a more exhaustive stock than most stores he’s been in. He’s impressed. It’s not until he reaches a rack prominently placed near the registers that he stops.

And takes a breath. One day, if he’s lucky.

“Nice,” he mutters to Jo, indicating the varied selection of local bands here. He picks up a CD at random, thinking he’s seen the name somewhere before. Maybe the lineup board outside Club FF. It’s really been too long.

“Haven’t been to Hongdae lately,” he confesses, because it’s entirely too soon to suggest the idea that’s occurred to him, sending nerves and excitement coursing through his veins. He’s wanted this for years, just never had the motivation or the connections to make reaching for it possible. He pushes the thought down for now, promising the sinking in his stomach that he’ll revisit it as soon as he can. Once he knows if he can count Jo as a friend. “Used to be a couple places you could count on for a good show. Wonder if they’re still alive, though. Everybody says all the big clubs are goin’ downhill.”

When his new companion enters his space, he feels something close to excitement. He loves to show off his small collection of odds and ends, kind of like some people like to show off pictures of their kids.

His bass turns three this year.

After they’re both safely inside, he pulls down the garage door to about shin level. Seems a little creepy to close it all the way, but he doesn’t want anyone spotting his stuff and walking off, either.

And then he follows, flipping the lights on as he goes.

The storefront illuminates - showing off yellow and black walls covered in posters and old, scratched records. He thought about putting a disco ball in the corner, but decided that it might be a little tacky. That’s not to say that the other decoration isn’t - just that it’s less so. He’s trying to keep his image up.

He wants to watch the other guy’s face as he takes everything in, but that would be creepy, too. So. he opts to take up his usual spot - a stool behind the register. If Sungjoon wants anything, he figures it wouldn’t be awful to open up shop for about two minutes. Legally, he’s allowed to do what he wants.

“Beauty, isn’t it? I might be biased, but I’m of the opinion that this is the best record store in the city.”

He grins. There are a few places around here that boast the lowest prices or the best selection, but none of them come close to what he has in stock. He may not always be the cheapest, but he’ll always have the best quality. That’s probably the only thing he’s a real stickler about.

At the next statement, he snorts.

“Most of them aren’t what they used to be, sure, but the little ones are still going strong. Lotta indie bands on the scene, these days.” He leans back. “Not a lot of anything more... grungey. Everything’s too clean.”

He sighs, perhaps a little wistfully, and eyes up the display in front of him.

“Wish I could get my feet in the water and bring back what’s missing, you know? There’s always that desire to go out and make change for the better, but they never tell you how hard it really is to sway the people.”

[absonovs-blog]

Don’t sell your souls on the open market

He doesn’t frequent shopping malls. There are too many people and there’s not enough space - unless you go during the week. He prefers Wednesdays (mostly because that’s his day off) to Mondays, both over Saturdays.

He’s only here because he has to be; his mom’s birthday is coming up and he hasn’t decided on a present yet. Dad’s already sent him a card to give to her. As long as he does better than a two-dollar piece of stock paper, he’ll be golden. But he wants it to be personal... and personal, he’s finding out, is expensive.

He’s trailing from storefront to storefront, just window shopping, trying to find some inspiration, when he finally comes to a stop. It takes him a moment to notice he’s managed to land next to a girl. She looks younger than his mom (younger than he is, actually, though they could be the same age - he’s always been a bad judge), but she might have some sort of insight.

And he’s desperate.

“Ah, sorry for the intrusion, but I was wondering if you’d be able to help me out really quick? I’m looking for a present for someone important,” he says, and maybe he’s trying to play up the clueless card so she’ll pity him,”...but I don’t buy a lot of stuff for women. Or people in general.”

Maybe he should’ve just written a song.

[absonovs-blog]

SUM 41 Starter Sentences

Lyric Starters from 13 Voices (2016 album)

I’m getting sick of hypocrites saying nothing

Takes a lifetime just to right the wrong

You’re all dead to me

Don’t believe that it’s only black and white

Seems to be that I’m a wanted man these days

They’re saying, “Listen boy, may God rest your soul”

Got a lease on borrowed time… it’s catching up to me

It’s off with his head and on with the show

I don’t believe he will come back for more

Take a look around: you really blew it all to hell

You’re to blame

At least I’ve still got my soul to sell

Have you forgot I don’t forget?

I swear to a god that someday there will be blood

Make no mistake, I’ve paid my price

I’ve done my time with the devil in disguise

I think I’ve fallen for the lie

Confess your sins of sorrow

Don’t sell your souls on the open market

There will be hell to pay

If I am the king, then you might be my fancy

It doesn’t make me feel alive

The truth’s just overrated

We’ve all got something to hide

‘Cause lies make it so much fun

So sing the praise of insincerity

I’m not your savior or a saint

So have it your way and crucify me

I don’t believe in redemption

Get ready cause this is war

There are days that I think I’m crazy

Other days nothing seems to faze me

I’m afraid I believe in nothing

You could’ve left me dead

I’m losing count of all my blessings

I can’t take back all that I have become

I’ve given up the grudge

I don’t know how to fake it

I won’t break down, I’m too proud

Let’s give them shit to talk about

I’m done with all the fake shit

I played the part of the villain 

No apologies given

I’ve been to hell and back still

I’ve paid the devil his bills

I’m shooting just to kill

There’s no one to blame this time

This time I think I’ve met my match

They say believing is the hardest part

They say the fire in your heart is gone

In some ways I’ve changed

[absonovs-blog]

lithified:

The kid’s offer surprises him – he must know the right people if that’s even a possibility. He’ll have to get to know Jo’s friends some time, if he can. “Hell yeah, though. Thanks, man.”

Itaewon is no more crowded than usual, but still it’s slower progress than he’d like. The tourists are out in impressive numbers, clustered around shops and caf‎és. He almost runs into a little old woman who doesn’t seem to know where she is. Once past the worst of the traffic jam, Sungjoon’s steps pick up speed – he’s glad to be out of it. He has to find the business card again when they get close, to check the address.

That it over there? – he almost asks. Taking a good look at it, he doesn’t have to. The storefront is brick, painted black, and the words become clearer the closer they get. Spellcaster Records. He’s scoured every record store within miles of his house many times over, but this one is new territory. Just that fact would make the trip worth it. The fact that he gets to jam with a fellow musician, one with a network, one who knows people, has him buzzing with excitement, but he reigns it in. He lets Jo take the lead, falling behind him. It’s his turf, after all.

While they’re making their journey, he notes that he was, in fact, right about the height disparity. There’s not much he can do about it besides finding some platform boots, so he decides to not sweat it for now - even if it makes him feel dwarfed.

There’s an incident with an old lady that brings a smile to his face, at the very least. It could’ve been worse.

When they roll up on the familiar brick of his store - his home - he begins the search for his keys. Not in his jean pockets, not in his jacket pockets; he’s not really sure where they should be. Until he is. He has to stop and set his bag on the sidewalk so he can open the front zipper and fish out his key ring. Then it gets leaned up against the wall while he gets to work on the garage door.

“Closed every Wednesday, but feel free to drop a line if you wanna stop by anyway. Got nothin’ better to do.”

Sometimes he wishes he had more than one off day a week, but he doesn’t make enough to hire more help, and he can’t afford to close down the whole store more often. Kinda sucks, but he manages. Keeps food on his table.

The door gets pushed up just enough to let the both of them through without having to duck too far. Inside it’s darker, but the sun’s still high and its enough to see as much as they need to. 

Instruments are lined against the wall between work benches full of extra merchandise, and there are a couple of wood crates dropped in the middle of the room. Miscellaneous wiring on the floor trails off to nowhere and there are a couple of amps sitting in a corner. He’s got microphones laying around somewhere too, but never got around to buying the stands.

“If you wanna peruse the inside, we’ll be heading in through that door over there.”

[absonovs-blog]

                                                 Galaxies full of nobodies                                Giving us the farewell runarounds.

Jo Geun Hyeong, 25; owner and manager of Spellcaster.Records, located in Jung-Gu, Seoul. Online orders available, shipping is always free. See inside for more details.

[absonovs-blog]

RULES:

Once you’ve been tagged, you are supposed to write a note with 92 truths about you. At the end, choose 25 people to be tagged. You have to tag the person who tagged you.

Muse: Jo

• WHAT WAS YOUR: Last beverage: This can of what appears to be half&half tea and lemonade from a corner store. Can’t actually read the label..Korean still kinda…yeah. Last phone call: Phone company. They tried to raise my bill again. Last text message: Don’t know. Last song you listened to: Jack The Ripper by Morrissey. Last time you cried: I broke three of my strings when I was seventeen and yeah, I may have been a little emotional.

• HAVE YOU EVER: Dated someone twice: Never dated. Been cheated on: “”. Kissed someone and regretted it: Yes, for sure. Lost someone special: Not a lot of people have been “special”. Been depressed: Everybody’s a little down these days. Been drunk and threw up: Unfortunately.

• LIST THREE FAVORITE COLORS: Brown, rust red, black.

• LAST YEAR, HAVE YOU: Made a new friend: Hell yeah. Fallen out of love: Never fallen into it. Laughed until you cried: Sure. Met someone who changed you: Nope. Found out who your true friends are: Not sure what that’s supposed to mean. Found out someone was talking about you: Don’t think anyone does.

• GENERAL: How many people on your FB friends list do you know in real life: About three, off of the store’s page. Don’t have a personal account.

• FIRSTS: First surgery: Comminuted tibia fracture when I was in seventh grade. Proof that sports are evil. First piercing: Ears, which I eventually took out. First best friend: A kid named Cairo. We met in first grade and hung out until a little after high school. First sport you joined: Soccer/football. Go Gladiators. First vacation: Never really been on one. First pair of trainers: Are you serious?

• RIGHT NOW: Eating: Nada. Drinking: Aforementioned tea beverage. I’m about to: Probably get back to doing nothing. Waiting for: My packages to show up.

• YOUR FUTURE: Want kids: Nooooooooooooooooooo. No. Get married: Dunno. Probably not, but maybe. Career: Already doing it. Could totally go for a life of fortune and fame playing bass for a kickass band, though.

• WHICH IS BETTER: Lips or eyes: Never thought about it. Hugs or kisses: Hugs. Suck it. Shorter or taller: Shorter. Older or younger: My age. Romantic or spontaneous: Spontaneity wins, but why not have both? Nice stomach or nice arms: Why should I care? Sensitive or loud: Loud. Way too sarcastic to deal with sensitivity. Hook-up or relationship: Whatever happens. Trouble maker or hesitant: Trouble maker, for sure.

• HAVE YOU EVER: Kissed a stranger: Yep. Drank hard liquor: Yeah. Lost glasses/contacts: Don’t need them. Sex on first date: Yep. Broke someones heart: Maybe. Arrested: Not yet. Turned someone down: Way back when, yeah. Cried when someone died: Never been around for it, didn’t know a lot of extended family, so no. Fallen for a friend: Nah.

• DO YOU BELIEVE IN: Yourself: Are you saying there’s a possibility I might not be real? Miracles: Make miracles yourself. Love at first sight: Lust at first sight, love at first chord. Lemme go kiss my guitar real quick, hang on. Heaven: Nah. Santa Claus: You should really be afraid of a fat man that squeezes down your chimney to deposit unknown goods into your home. Kiss on the first date: Done a lot worse than that. Angels: Nah.

Tagging: If you haven’t done it yet just do it. You’re gonna do it eventually anyway, tagged or not.

[absonovs-blog]

So the purpose of this meme is to give a little info on your muses without having to rely on others to fill your ask with meme questions. I know how disappointing it can be to come back to an empty ask so I wanted to create a meme that anyone and everyone can do (mun and muse). The rules are simple, you do not need to be tagged to fill out the questions, but once you have you must reblog and tag 10 of your followers to spread the love (as well as add a question of your own to the bonus section). You can fill it out as many times as your heart desires (we all know muses can change with their character development.)

—muse:

—10 Questions:

1. What is your favorite word?: Freedom.

2. What is your least favorite word?: Have to. Two words, but you know what I mean.

3. What turns you on?: Good music taste.

4. What turns you off?: Obsessive preteens.

5. What sound do you love?: Pretty much everyone’s gonna go with music, right? I’ll say the crowd yelling my name as I play on stage.

6. What sound do you hate?: Hands on a chalk board. Bad feel, bad sound - hate it.

7. What is your favorite curse word?: Shit, probably. Cunt’s a good one.

8. What profession other than yours would you like to attempt?: I wanna make it big with music, man. I’m already doing what I love, but the ideal idea would be playing in front of huge crowds and selling out venues.

9. What profession would you not like to do?: Accounting. I’m terrible with math, man.

10. If heaven exists, what would you like to hear God(s) say when you arrive at the pearly gates?: Rock on, my child.

—Bonus Questions:

1. Something most people don’t know about you?: I know how to play a lot more than just the bass. I can do guitar, piano, violin, and I can also dj pretty well.

2. Sexual Preference? I’m not really sure, right now. Chicks are hot, but dudes can also be hot? Yeah.

3. What position do you sleep in?: Spread-eagle on my back, sometimes with my head hanging off the mattress…I may or may not have a problem with… hugging.

4. What if someone told you…you HAD to lose, just this one time? Hasn’t happened yet. Depends on the situation I guess. If I knew I could kick ass if I fought for it, I’d fight.

5. Greatest fear? Never really thought about it. Clowns freak me out.

6. If you could leave one thing to be remembered by, what would it be? Some goddamned good CDs and shit. My store, too. Pretty rad.

7. If you could choose what you would like to be reincarnated in your next life, what would it be? I think a tree, out in the woods. Sounds like a good time.

8. What do you keep on your nightstand? Phone, lighter, can of coffee for the next morning. Ashtray, alarm clock.

9. What do you think of your mun? He’s…something.

11. What’s your favorite thing to do in your free time? What you are about to hear is top secret: play fucking bass and drink. Tell nobody this absolutely classified information.

12. What are some notable merits and flaws? I’m pretty good at what I like. I’m also absolutely terrible at what I hate. Don’t care enough about a lot of things, I guess.

13. What is a habit you have? (ex. biting your lip, keeping things neat, looking at the ground, reading out loud without realizing it, etc.) Distancing myself by putting my headphones in, I guess. I don’t like what I hear, I drown it out. I also clench my jaw a lot, I think. Default back to English when I’m frustrated or nervous.

[absonovs-blog]

More friendly than he looks.

And you don’t find too many dedicated musicians around here, these days. Everyone’s into music - just not playing it. he’s yet to come into contact with any of the million indie bands around that everyone seems to be talking about.

Can’t help but to nod.

“Kay, sweet. Guess we’re headin’ up that way, then.”

He sits up again, stretching out his back, and grunts. There’s another breeze and he slides his bass back into the case. Zipper zips. He slowly makes it to his feet and slings the thing over his shoulder.

“Of course, I can probably ask around and see if anyone’s got one they’re looking to pass off. Probably gonna cost ya, but at least it won’t be full price.” He grins, and the leaves crackle under his feet as he starts off.

It’s no surprise he hasn’t been to the shop before – Jung-gu’s a bit of a hike from where he lives, on foot at least. Funny enough, it’s not too far at all from the park they’re in now. Overlooking the river with the bulk of Yongsan district at their backs, it’d be a reasonable trek, most of it through Itaewon.

He takes the slip of paper as it’s offered, scanning the messy scrawl before pocketing it. He can’t help but notice that it is, in fact, currently between the hours of ten and eight – though the kid’s not working, obviously, and he’s not offering they head over there now, as far as he can tell. Still, it’s been too long since he’s met a fellow musician for him not to push his luck. 

“Mine’s Sungjoon. Y’know, I don’t really got anywhere to be til later tonight, if you wanted to show me where it’s at. Wouldn’t mind checkin’ out that 220 of yours – closest I’ll ever get to gettin’ my hands on a Les Paul.” He laughs but he’s serious. “Course if you’re busy, no worries.”

[absonovs-blog]

He’s got enough time on his hands and enough mind to invite the guy over right now. There’s nothing stopping him but an unfamiliarity and the uncertainty that comes with not knowing someone else’s schedule. Once he gets the lineup figured out, he’ll probably request a session.

His fingers slip into the pocket of his jeans and he retrieves a scrap of paper - a receipt from a corner store that he hit up not two days ago - before he starts the search for a pen. It doesn’t hurt to keep one on you when you’re part-composer-part-frankenstein, stitching together verses that probably shouldn’t belong until after the whole song’s done. He finds it in the pocket of his jacket.

“Out in Jung-gu. Right across from the Balatina place, whatever that is.”

He scribbles out the address as best he can with the receipt pressed into his palm. It’s barely legible. He holds it out to Tower McGee and waves it around a little.

“Show up any time between ten and eight. Otherwise I’m gonna be upstairs and good fucking luck getting up there.” There’s a pause. “Name’s Jo.”

While the compliment hangs in the air only briefly, it’s just long enough to breed discomfort. He’s gotten better at accepting praise over the years but he still feels the need to qualify it in a show of what could be called humility or self-deprecation, depending on who you ask. “Enough time on their hands, I s'pose anyone can pick it up on their own.” He’d never claim it was a natural-born talent, but with no lessons offered (good luck fitting that into his parents’ budget) he’d made the most of his free time growing up.

He doesn’t realize he’s gotten used to the bass-line until it stops – rustling leaves and conversation too far away to be audible sounds a lot louder in its absence. Something about this kid makes him want to play along, though jam sessions are always more fun with an amp.

Especially when he’s got an electric guitar. Or two. Sungjoon perks up at that, visibly more interested. “Spellcaster? Nah, I don’t think so.” He rifles through visual snapshots of a few storefronts in his head, but the name doesn’t match up to any of them. “Where’s that at? Might swing by some time.”