Walknut -Motherland Ostenvegr

man... what can i say about this band except that they are beyond great. yes, they have heard burzum, but who cares? i can live with that.
beyond knowing they are two guys, named stringsskald and ravnaskrik who are from moscow and were also together in a band called temnozor, it's really fucking hard to find out any info on these dudes, though. apparently there has been a rumor of a new album circulating for a while, with even more susbets of rumors that explain it's lack of a release. i have read everything to varying side projects and families keeping them too busy to record, to alleged nsbm sentiments that make labels apprehensive about releasing it. who knows what's with all the damned mystery? let's just call it a 'perk' of liking a genre of music that absolutely NObody gives a shit about that is written by people who think it is fun to remain obscurer than fuck. this is a must listen!


http://rapidshare.com/files/40278296/Walknut_-_2007_-_Graveforests_and_Their_Shadows__for__Varg_Umor_music__and__metalarea.org__by_HA7tur

Absurd - Pesttanz

okay. let's call this a change of format. totally. it has been to my attention for a good while now that i am most probably irritating 95 percent of my facebook list by posting bullshit black/thrash/death metal shit for the better part of two years now and i have decided to give up on it. and since i was brilliant enough to figure out that posting here is every bit as easy, consider it a done deal. this is the new face of fast action. a metal blog. with videos. and maybe even .rar links once i figure it out. anyhow. above you is an absurd song. i didn't find it too particularly thrilling or anything, it's just a test. p.s. apparently they are nazis and well known for it. who knew? anyhow unhold of luror fame played drums for them and learning that kinda bums me out. i'd like to chalk it up to him being a dumbass drummer, but i know better after hearing 'cease to live' anyhow... there'll be more to come. once i figure out what i want to write about. this is a much more relaxed format, allowing people to stumble across it as opposed to forcing it upon my seething throngs of mild acquaintances on the 'book. bone apetit!

vicksburg, ms to waco, tx.

so day two got off to a slower start than was planned, but it was worth the delay since we were both tired as shit from day one. the mighty miss didn't smell like anise and turds, which was a nice touch. after skipping the 'free continental breakfast', which consisted of hard boiled eggs and 'gourmet' flavored coffee, we headed west again.


i quickly learned that the trip across northern louisiana is down a cripplingly boring, flat, shitty mess of a road that eventually lead to shreveport, on the texas border. according to wikipedia....
'Shreveport is the third-largest city and the principal city of the third largest metropolitan area in the U.S. state of Louisiana, as well as being the 99th-largest city in the United States.
It is the seat of Caddo Parish[1] and extends slightly into neighboring Bossier Parish. Bossier City is separated from Shreveport by the Red River. The population was 200,145 at the 2000 census, and the Shreveport-Bossier City Metropolitan Area population exceeds 375,000.'
i, however, in a million years, use that description to open an article about the place. according to me....
'shreveport is the foremost shittiest and third largest metropolitan area in louisiana. if you were to somehow eliminate all of the good or even decent aspects of new orleans, while retaining all of the filth, crime, and retarded polulous, you'd be in the ballpark.'
not ironically, the place also smelled like babyshit.


















after eating at whataburger for the first time in a dozen years, we were mercifully whisked across the border and into what was my life's first experience with texas.


anyhow... it's pretty easy to figure out when one state has more money that it's neighbor, and you can tell in a heartbeat that texas scoops up oil and louisiana was all blown to hell by a hurricane. instantly, I-20 grew smoother and cleaner and a concrete safety divider sprouted from the median. aside from that, however, the terrain is relatively unchanged, though i think i started seeing mesquite trees here and there. i never saw dallas, since we shot south on I-35, headed towards austin, but it loomed on the horizon and looked metropolitan enough, i suppose. being able to 'loom on the horizon' means it's a legit city, right? plus, they have a football team.
anyhow, shortly after that it got foggy as hell and the daylight ran out on us, so i have no idea if the landscape has changed. something leads me to believe it hasn't.

changing gears. an adventure in misadventure.

so i am changing the subject here for a little while, or should i say sort of. i guess what i really mean is that i am still going to post very sporadically and about dumb shit, but this time out there, you might also be able to find some semblance of a 'theme'. today was the first day of johnny p and my adventure out across the deserts of the untied states and into the promised land of california. unfortunately, this edition will be rather slight, since i wasn't really able to discern anything of real interest (this being painfully familiar and boring stomping groungds for me). at any rate, at the end of day one, i find myself at an econolodge in vicksburg, mississippi, tired and intrigued by what ever the hell it is that makes old man river smell like black licorice and baby shit. i kid you not, that's a precise description.
anyhow...todays highlights included getting detoured through 'lovely' bessemer alabama, which, without contention, holds the new title of 'the shittiest place i have ever fucking seen, i swear'. this was thanks to what appeared to be one van careening across a twenty foot median and annihilating another van head on. the carnage took up both lanes of our two lane highway. and second, john got all high roller and came up $42.50 on the quarter slots at a steamboat casino here in vicksburg. guess who bought the beer?

bushiest beaver.

Sorry. Not a lot of time to devote to the 'blog' today, but i'll post this for your viewing pleasure.

bottoms up.

If there's one thing that I'm good at, it's air hockey. (number 26 in the world... thanks.) That being said, it should be pointed out that I am, therefore, pretty much good at nothing. Being good at air hockey is pretty much like being good at masturbating: chicks most definitely aren't impressed, and dudes couldn't really give a shit, but it's fun, so you keep doing it.
Anyhow, the other thing I like to devote time to is getting drunk after work and on weekends. and so, ladies and germs, I present you with...

THE FAST ACTION GUIDE TO GETTING HAMMERED IN ATLANTA. Part One.


The Universal Joint, Oakhurst

God knows I spend a lot of time at this place. But, in my defense, it's wicked close to my house, and it has ended up as my default destination when I don't really feel like making a big production out of grabbing a beer or two... or eight. Anyhow, they have a decent patio and... uh. Lots of families and lesbians hang out there, and I like to pretend that they all glare at each other and seethe over each others' lifestyle. They probably don't though. Since beer is unreasonably pricey there, the best way to roll through that place (I have found) is to bring a bag and hit up the 'hop-n-shop' located conveniently behind the place and supplement bought beers with bag beers.

Unofficial fast action correspondent 'weird beard' works there. photo artfully 'vignetted' to protect identity.



The Brewhouse 'Cafe', Little Five Points

I have always had a love/hate relationship with this place. On one hand, they have a kickass patio right on Moreland Ave. This makes for awesome spring afternoons spent drinking beers while watching suburban dorks laden with bags of shit from Junkman's Daughter, shitty squatter kids trying to scare money from said suburban dorks, and bums and very-soon-to-be bums who will recite shitty 'poetry' to you for a dollar.
HOWEVER, the place is also a hugely popular 'football' bar. Not football, football. Football gay. If you end up there at the wrong time, which is completely random since the whole fucking world is retarded over soccer and they always broadcast live games from everywhere, chances are you can kiss service goodbye and replace it with drunk europeans standing on stools and singing Oasis. Eleven dollar buckets of 16s of Pabst are truly the way to roll here, and if you establish yourself a a regular, they'll often throw in a free sixth beer so you and your buddy won't have to fight over the last one.



East Atlanta Restaurant and Lounge.

Don't call it that, though. It's the Earl. Just the Earl. Anyhow, this place is noteworthy more as a music venue than a proper bar, where $2.50 tall boys of Busch will do you just fine. I can't really think of too many negative things to say about the place except that it's always loud, even in the front half, which is separate from the live music.
The back, however, is pretty much one of two places in Atlanta that books good shows. A lot of indie rock stuff pads out the majority of their nights, but i have seen some pretty radical metal shows there, too, in my day. Eyehategod comes to mind. So does Early Man and Skeletonwitch. Oh yeah, enemymine played there too (bitchin').

Tomorrow, i will be nicer than ever.

some people will tell you i am handsome and rugged. some will call me reckless, with no concern for my well being. some will tell you i have a dumb sense of humor and talk about 'metal' too much. i have been called a dick, a prick, a fucker and a turd. someone once said 'i love you' to me with a straight face, and some say i am retarded.
all of these things are true. and while i can't say how i have come to acquire all of these adjectives over the years, i WILL say that i wear them every day. and i suppose we're all as complex as i am, each of us deserving thorough investigation of our characters before we are to be truly understood by others in this vast world around us.

this is an artist's rendition of my heart.



but i still think sharon osbourne is an asshole.


this is nothing irrational. it seems a small coincidence to me that the instant she took on her role as ozzy's 'manager' the 'prince of darkness' would begin his unfortunate downward spiral from fronting one of the world's most influential bands, to being ridiculed on national television,to this idiotic nonsense...

'i'm... wait... who am i? i want to go home now, i'm 60 years old" p.s. since 1979? you're saying you've become MORE evil post sabbath? or were you the 'fuckin' KING of darkness!' when you were slaying the universe with 'megalomania' in '75? with all of my heart i want to believe the latter.

i'm all for capitalism and 'getting yours', but i kind of think it's about time to let the poor guy ride out his last days with a bit of dignity. sure, it's funny as hell to watch some doddering old, grand mal suffering dude get frustrated by a state-of-the-art remote control, but picking on the elderly is kind of like booing at the special olympics. awesome, but in poor taste. i'll say this in all honesty too. i don't know what old john's day-to-day consists of, but if 'the osbournes' was at all accurate, he most probably just wants to be left alone to reflect upon his life instead of being forced into series of wacky antics by a slightly deranged manager and wife in the name of making a buck. and then there's this...


words.... fail... me... this karaoke nightmare, doubtlessly constructed to give the necessary shot in the arm to kelly o's obviously pointless 'career', topped the charts in the u.k., making ozzy entitled to some sort of record pertaining to length of time between chart-toppers in england. the first time was with paranoid. anyhow, i just want to know if bill and geezer and tony got to reap any royalties. seriously... i can't find the answer to this question anywhere. the album liner notes say nothing more than 'songs arranged by black sabbath' let me know somebody, please. does anyone even read this crap?

*this just in... weirdbeard seems to think that the osbourne estate can claim ownership to all sabbath material prior to 1978. 1982's 'speak of the devil' album might just testify to that fact. fuck you tony iommi.

at any rate, i won't bother going into the who maiden-vs.-sharon-at-ozzfest debacle right now. i am too sad from coming to terms that i suck for missing them tomorrow.

shut up. i hate myself more than you could possibly hate me.

and at the end of all this, who really know anything? maybe sharon's just looking out for the future of her family. maybe ozzy happily agrees to make a fool of himself. maybe kelly and jack possess some wonderful talent that i am too ignorant to comprehend. maybe it's me who is truly the asshole, but i kinda doubt it.