It’s been a few years since I’ve been hooked to an anime AND manga series — and now, what’s been keeping me ROFL-ing at night is … Detroit Metal City. (nope, don’t understand the website either.)
Thanks to Mikko‘s suggestion, I’m now waking up to death metal — here’s the plot from wikipedia:
Negishi Soichi leaves his family’s farm in Oita Prefecture for the bright lights of Tokyo. While there he swaps his taste in Swedish pop for the totally out-of-character death metal and takes the role as vocalist in the trio, Detroit Metal City, adopting the name Johannes Krauser II. Through the story, he is placed in countless situations caused by his new alter ego, Krauser and at some point he develops a sort of schizophrenic relationship with Krauser, such as if his temper is pushed he will turn into Krauser, or if he is being pressured to make a decision or fans bother him too much he draws Krauser out to save himself. After the fact, he feels bad about what ‘he’ did and tends to lock himself in his apartment until he can overcome his regret.
Which makes for some hardcore, heavy-metal-retardershits. To me, this is like reading BECK all over again, the story of a simple kid thrust into the world of music — an adept, honing his craft — except that the band is death metal, and the protagonist really isn’t into death metal, because it’s not trendy or Swedish-poppy enough.
Check out the anime’s trailer for baby zombis in action!
Plus, as if that wasn’t metal enough, a live-action movie was shown in theaters (in Japan!) just last month. With Ken’ichi Matsuyama playing both Negichi and Krauser II. (He also played L in the live-action Deathnote movies.) Gene Simmons is in the movie, whose role is, for anyone who’s seen the anime or read the manga — quite obvious. (Clue: Demon God of Rock and Roll.)
See it, if you can (episode 2 FTW) — or buy the manga! (Because that’s the most heavy metal thing you can do!)
Last night, beer enthusiasts (plus mga tambay sa kanto) flocked the Ortigas area for the opening of this year’s 120 days of Oktoberfest.
For some reason, by around 8:30, they (the gatekeepers) decided that there were already too many people inside, and they simply stopped letting people in. Even people who had tickets weren’t allowed in, or if ever they did, they had trouble squeezing in through the sweat-shield-covered crowd.
Several shouts of protest has turned the group mentality from eagerly-in-line to the-people-versus-the-organizers. They even popped a hole in the giant SMB beer bottle balloon thing. (As it deflated, it fell on several people’s heads lol)
Then, some godless-fucks from behind shouted, “1, 2, 3, PUUUUUUUSSSSSSHHHHH!”
Everyone had to push along in order not to get trampled. Rainwater that had collected on top of the registration tent splashed all over my right arm. (Stagnant water, yow) I held on to a bit of railing while knees, elbows and heads hit me all over.
It was at that point that a police van and a firetruck drove in to stop the riot-waiting-to-happen.
I feared that they might start hosing us down, I mean, isn’t it enough that mosquitoes can now lay eggs on my stagnant-water-soaked sleeve?
A big burly security man started ordering everyone to back.the.fuck.up, drill-sergeant style — when they didn’t listen, he hopped on over from the street to the line, and then started going ballistic. With a baton. Shouting profanities (you know, the one with a mother?) to intimidate the retreating masses.
I walked to a 711, bought several cans of Pale Pilsen and started having my own Oktoberfest opening by the El Pueblo area. (As everything in proximity was filled to capacity.)
Since Drei and Ven were already inside, and I had little chance of getting in, I decided to wait it out … by the small island near El Pueblo.
By chance, I saw Ryu, a friend of mine, and, as it turned out, his girlfriend July was a promo girl by the Oktobrew tent. We waited for another friend of ours, Tippi, then we headed for the tent.
We got to meet the host, and was let in. (Lucky!)
The tent was airconditioned and very, very spacious — the food area was at the far end, a darts section by the left, the beer station smack dab in the middle and a live projector by the right, so that people could follow what was happening at the main stage.
Several tables told drinking stories via empty beer bottles. The special Oktoberfest limited edition brew was being sold at 50-bucks a pop — and also, everytime you get one, you get to play a game of darts, at which Tippi showed off his surprising ability of always hitting the bullseye. (He won me a shirt.)
Third Eye Blind started playing at around 11(?) — they premiered 2 new songs (here in the Philippines, yow!) from the upcoming fourth album, then finished off with mostly older songs — the ones I remember from highschool. (They rawk!)
They even threw in Nelly lyrics in there — “Must be the money!”
As of 12 AM of September 6, Ryu officially turned 24, so he suggested that we all go dancing, or something of the sort after.
First, we had to make a quick stop to bring Jona (July’s promo girl friend) home, and then we hit up one of their favorite haunts. We arrived far too late (2:30 AM) to hit up several places — either people were already leaving, drunk, or just plain sad. So we decided to get a meal instead, Ryu’s treat.
After eating, I hailed a cab and asked to get taken to Junction. We made a conversation out of the drunken yahoos who were also from Oktoberfest, and traffic, and our favorite beers. The cab driver asked, “san pa ang punta mo boy? / where are you still headed to?” I told him, “Antipolo.”
Without saying a word, he turned off the meter and proceeded driving. Turns out his taxi’s garage was in Antipolo! He dropped me off near the house and looked confused when I handed him some money for my earlier fare. I just told him to add it to his gas money.
I made a quick stop at 711 to get some snacks, and then headed home to the batcave.
Woke up at 10 — it was for The Eraserheads, after all — had an early lunch, got ready and headed for Krispy Kreme Boni High Street. Arrived at 2:45 with Drei, met up with Ven and hung out ’til just a little over 3 and then faced the big giant that was the concert venue, mistakenly announced by tarpaulins as “Eraserhead” concert. (Which would confuse the lowest of IQs: was it a reunion for one?)
Several things were prohibited, like outside food, giant belt buckles and even umbrellas. I didn’t want a repeat of the WTC incident, so I took precautions in hiding my cigs + lighter.
Obviously, with JUSTICE in mind, I had worn my bat-belt. I attempted entry, but JUSTICE apparently can’t make it in, before I could protest, the big burly man was tugging at the “business” end of my belt. (Not flinching was probably a good idea, with the tight-fitting yellow shirt barely containing the bouncer man’s muscles.) At which point, Ven asks, “Which is more important? Your belt or the experience?”