Torn
Ode
My Own Prison
Pity For A Dime
In America
Illusion
Unforgiven
Sister
What’s This Life For
One

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Pra quem não está por dentro,o Creed Voltou…os integrantes se reuniram novamente e começaram uma turnê agora em agosto,a duração prevista é de 3 meses,o novo álbum “Full Circle” será lançado no dia 27/10.Fãs do Alter Bridge(eu) não se preocupem,a Banda não acabou e não há nenhuma especulação sobre seu fim no futuro,a gravação do 3º Álbum continuará em dezembro,previsão de lançamento para o meio de 2010.Mark Tremonti falou em uma entrevista que há planos de trazer as duas bandas para a América do Sul…\o/…Curta Abaixo o novo som do Creed:Overcome…a música é Sensacional.

Baixe Aqui Overcome.

Fotos dos Show que já estão ocorrendo desde 6 de Agosto.

Yesterday, MSNBC reported that Scott Stapp and his pseudo-Christian band Creed is talking reunion. Back in the day, Creed was THE band in rock, selling records to sad, little, Jesus seeking teenagers like Meth to poor, inbred tweakers in the backwoods of Oregon. They went on huge mega tours and sold millions of albums and solidified their place atop the rock and roll shit pile.

But 2004 saw lead singer, Scott Stapp and the band part ways. The remaining members of Creed went on to form, what amounted to be a Creed clone, Alter Bridge (aka The Fuck Scott Stapp Experience) and released two modestly successful albums. Stapp, loving his freedom, began to comically assert his rock star status. He tried the whole bad ass thing, refusing to discuss his former band or his lyrics. A sex tape was even rumored to exist. But the new Stapp clashed with his image while with Creed and he became a joke–the poor man’s Fred Durst. He was just that guy who used to sing for Creed.

And now they want to get back together? For the love of the music? Because they have a burden to share their message with the masses? No. According to the MSNBC article, it’s because there are “significant dollars” on the table.

Creed, please do us a favor stay in your fucking hole and don’t come back to pollute the scene anymore than you and your 30 million records already have.

[NOTE: To be fair, Creed didn't always suck. Their 1997 independently produced and released album, My Own Prison was a solid effort. This was before all the hype and before Wind-Up Records signed them and remixed the album to make it more "radio friendly." Also Mark Tremonti was always a good guitarist. Just thought it had to be said. Creed was just another band poisoned by success.]

Illusion Creed music video clip

Video Clip : Illusion

Singer : Creed

This is actually a kind of special video for me. It’s the song that introduced me to rock music. I remember when Creed got popular in the mid-nineties…I was probably just coming into my preteen years (should give you a clue of how old I am) and I bought a Creed CD. It was the first CD I ever picked out for myself, so therefore it is quite memorable to me. Before then…well, I listened to Amy Grant, and nothing else. My mom was a fan of Amy, and we have about all of her tapes, so as a kid she was literally all that I listened to. Don’t get me wrong, I loved Amy, and I still do to an extent, but I guess at that age I was just starting to feel the desire to be my own person, to think for myself, and I was looking for something that would differentiate who I was becoming as a teenager from who I was as a child. Creed fit the bill because they were a) something that my parents would disapprove of, and b) they were still somewhat safe, mainstream, and lyrically unoffensive. I remember clearly picking that CD out of a mail-order catalog and deciding that was the one I wanted, and I remember the day I brought it home and put it in my boom box (I can also remember the day I told my mother I wanted a “boom box” for Christmas, and she laughed at me. But I got one nonetheless.). The music was loud and aggressive and obnoxious, i remember my dad yelling at me to turn it off, and even I was a little fearful of it. I know, I know…there are tons of songs harder and heavier than this one. You got to remember, I was an Amy Grant fan up until now, and a pretty sheltered kid. This was the first time I had ever heard anything at all like this. So anywy, I took the CD out of the Boombox and put it back in the case, and there it lived for a while longer. Finally one day, I decided I could convince myself to like the music, and so gave it another try. lo and behold, this time I was ready for what was coming…I braced myself against the heavy drums and bass…and I found that I actually liked it. And I wanted more.

All through middle school, this CD was what I listened to. I was pretty darn proud of it, because I considered it a “badge” of coolness. For me, it was rebellious, it was a challenge to my parents and what they approved of for me. Of course it was cool. And so I listened to it every chance I got…well, mostly on the schoolbus.

Anyway, Thats my story. Thanks Creed, you made me who I am today—for good or bad.

Come avrete visto ultimamente mi sono data un po’ alla danza della latitanza, ma di questo forse scriverò più avanti.
Per ora penso il mio silenzio meriti un break. Pane al pane e vino al vino. quando c’è lo stile mi piace riconoscerlo.
Come diceva mio nonno “non è cosa fai, ma come lo fai a fare la differenza.”

Come saprete ho partecipato al contest fotografico WinterSlice.
L’ho fatto per puro divertimento e passatempo senza pretese, come quasi sempre faccio ogni cosa. Però i ghiotti premi in palio, devo ammetere che mi avevano dato qualche motivazione in più…se non quasi qualche nota di competitività.

Mai avrei sperato nei premi giuria (riconosco i miei limiti….e ancor di più li sbandiero davanti a fotografi professionisti), e infatti non ne ho vinto nessuno.
Però è andata a finire che mi sono classificata prima a parimerito per la foto che ha ricevuto più voti dai lettori.
Se mi fossi autovotata, come altri hanno fatto, avrei vinto.
Se non avessi votato la mia “rivale” (chi non fa un minimo 2+2 in una situazione simile?…io) avrei vinto.
Per decidere il vincitore alla fine era stato deciso un ballottaggio anonimo tipo estrazione a sorte.al quale sono seguite non poche polemiche dai miei fan, e penso anche dagli altri visti i commenti * se ti dicono di votare “busta a” o “busta b” che cavolo voti il nome della tua foto preferita? non sai leggere le istruzioni?io penso di sì*
Il mio primo pensiero di urtamento sinceramente è stato “fanculo alla sportività, la prossima volta mi auto-voto anch’io” e poi “che cazzo c’entra un’estrazione con un contest fotografico??Allora fai una lotteria”

Ma alla fine arrivò lo sponsor, che ha deciso di dare a tutte e due i premi.
Niente estrazioni, niente ballottaggi.
Non si sa se il premio sarà uguale al previsto e doppio, o diverso. Ma non importa.
I Signori della Compagnia Del Cavatappi sono stilosi punto e basta. E mi sembra giusto spezzare una lancia in loro favore.
Così si fa! Bravi! alleluja, in questo povero mondo esiste ancora della gente che possiede un po’ di stile.
Non è fare lo sponsoro che fa la differenza, ma come lo si fa.

Inoltre mi son fatta un giretto sul loro sito, e mi sa che presto farò un po’ di shopping. Ma questa è un’altra storia.

Intanto colgo l’occasione per ringraziare anche Andrea che ha organizzato il contest, un santo che riesce a stare dietro a tutto e tutti e a gestire le situazioni più impensabili, nonchè tutti quelli che hanno votato le mie foto…
…grazie! tutti a CasaJoe per gustare il prelibato premio, qualuqnue sia!

enjoy and take care.

Ten years gone by, sleepless nights, dream, nightmares, regret, remorse, haunted memories, bad karma, negative chi, bad joojoo. Anyone who has known me can attest, I don’t just believe in karma, I’ve been suffering the effects for about a decade. It has constantly stressed my mind how poorly I’ve lived my life and some of the bad choices I made when I was emotionally devoid and inhuman the other half the time. I still to this day don’t know why I said most of the things I said to many people during the course of my own emotional rampage, but I’ve never forgotten the worst of what I’ve done. Well almost, today I bumped into someone I have spent years punishing myself over completely by accident. Actually it was completely by accident, although I was somewhere I should have known she could be at any time. Actually I was trying to get some food somewhere fast, as I was feeling the effects of the empty tank, saw a place that looked like it had some rockin mediterranean food, which was closed, went next door to the food place there, when I said, holy food batman this place is really nice. Then I realized where I was at, and she shops there, and how weird that would be if she walked in. That’s when she walked in, I instantly had a heart attack, my lungs came out my throat tied themselves into a bow, and got lodged in my throat, and I thought, I’m going to die right here before I can even explain why I am here. We spoke about many things, but the most important, I think, was about some of the damage I did. Outright lies. That’s so general. Where’s all the thoughts that I’ve never been able to escape, the thoughts that distressed my being for so long. The rap sheet of the mindcrime looks something like this: Destruction of something pure. Treason to one so trusting. Destruction of a heart. Harboring hidden feelings and emotions. Alteration of something innocent. Caused pain and distress. Although the list is incomplete, I never think as well when it happens near instruments of written word. The idea is the same, I’ve kicked my own ass a thousand times for never righting the wrongs that I have done. At any rate, the victim spoke to me and I didn’t get the reaming I deserved, but the impact was the same nonetheless. Words I needed to hear, no doubt, as I didn’t even remember all the things I had actually said, did I say those things. Surely I must have, I was never myself until myself to start acting like myself. I had to regain existence at one point because I had misbehaved to the point where there was nothing left of myself but memories of a time that I was happy, and even that was tainted by the negativity that my inner demons brought to the surface. I’ve been on a mission for quite some time. I don’t think I will ever have what I had once, but maybe if I can work towards giving back just a litte of what I took from someone so innocent as not to know pain so great, then maybe I will only have to beat myself up half as much. I don’t know if I will ever stop regretting what I did, but I hope that at least one person can stop regretting ever having known me. It’s human nature to err, it’s even more human to try to forget about it and go on with life, never looking back. I don’t want to those people, I want to be the one that goes back to pick up the pieces, and let the sufferer rest and recuperate. Because tomorrow is a long, bumpy road. But it’s like traveling through the grand canyon for the one that takes the brunt of the fall. I received news today far worse than what I had expected. But that’s pretty much exactly what I expected. It’s bad that she remembers this stuff, but isn’t it also good that she remembers so much about the past, or maybe I’m the only one that forgets things as a side-effect of my self induced madness. Probably the latter. Vexing. I’d like to believe that I can only remember details about her so well because it was a time when things were better. At least where she was involved, at least until I started losing my mind. At any rate, I hope that at least some weight was lifted, I think my own situation may have gotten worse, I was happy to see her smile again, but I see the fear that I will go away as soon as I have popped back up. I see the waryness of what might come about from speaking to someone who once knew how to be cruel. I once recognized faults until I came to the realization through many hours of self debate with myself, (that’s how my mind works, it’s not a typo), that these are the little things that make you who you are. It always was misinterpretation, no matter how you look at it, like someone who speaks more than one language, take vietnamese for instance, there are 103 dialects, and what you learn in one province will surely clash with the spoken language in another province, or I might have learned to spead it fluently. Not because I needed to, but I have to keep my mind busy, and I once worked with a few vietnamese men. I think I gave it up when the word for box in one dialect was the same as the word for a woman’s …box. So to speak. In another dialect. This is how I came to interpret people. Everyone was speaking English to me, but I was accounting for the dialect that was spoken somewhere like the moon. Obviously. I’ve always strived to be intellectual but I think when I was maturing I must have been the greatest moron that walked on two feet. And a giant donkey at the same time. I don’t wish that the movie ending would just magically happen, although it would be the greatest thing in the world. I don’t deserve happiness, but she does. The whole point is basically this, I don’t do any of this for my own benefit. I don’t hope to gain anything from it. I don’t think my karma can be fixed. I’m pretty sure I’ll live in hell for an eternity, in the shittiest one bedroom in the lower reaches of hell. But I couldn’t be less concerned with my own outlook on life. By all practical reasons I should have been dead three years ago, and I must be living on borrowed time to try to fix some of what I have done wrong. Who knows, maybe I have told her what she needed to hear all these years, and maybe my time is soon. My head feels like someone soaked my brain in gasoline, so maybe it’s soon. But after the pain I’ve heard I don’t think this is something that can be done in one evening. I think that this was just a band aid, and my first guess would have been that I would have reopened the wound, and poured salt all over it, and maybe danced on it, just by my resurfacing, by making contact, by even asking if she remembered who I am. I should be sleeping right now, I have to stay up late to pick up a sibling from the airport. Tomorrow will be hell. I should have stayed longer. But I left the whole thing up to her. It’s the best I think, I don’t want her to think this is all for some dirty ulterior motive. I want her to feel as if things are as pure as I left her. Candidness, honesty, true friend. But all in all, I stuck my neck out, and she didn’t chop it off. She even asked to see the music I’ve been writing, oh crap, oh well, I could use a true music critic. If I was going to let anyone tell me what they think of what’s in my head, she deserves first crack. I may even let her see this one day. She may even bring me back to life. Course that means there will be two members in Hermits Anonymous. That’s good, I could use a good traveling companion along the way. And there could be no better companion.

So the dream begins at some kind of sporting event, there is only lawn chairs to sit in on an open field. I have no idea what there supposed to be playing, but I don’t think the focus is supposed to be on the game anyway. There is a man sitting next to me, who keeps getting out of hand. Pretty soon the man gets angry and words are exchanged til the ref has to come over and is talking to the guy for causing an outbreak. This happens a couple more times and eventually the game is over and donkey 1 goes on his own way. On the way back to the car my phone rings. It is the dearly departeds brother. Odd. I answer the phone. He introduces himself, as if I had forgotten. I state the obvious, “It’s been three years since the funeral. What’s up?” I’m not rude, but not exactly cordial. I know there is no love lost, and want to find out why he would be calling me, without having to listen to some kind of fake conversation making. He proceeds to start talking in some kind of really bad, I think I know more than you phrases. Where nothing is really said at all, and ending the sentences with “you know what I’m getting at”? As if he is insinuating something, but he hasn’t really conveyed anything at all. This is either the subltest insinuation I’ve been accompany to, or the worst conversation I may ever have, ever. So I not so subtly request that he get to the point. What it boils down to is, he thinks I have something of hers that he is more entitled to. I remind him that everything of hers I have I bought, she wrote, or we got together. And furthermore, it was the majority of my belongings that ended up conveniently disappearing, with the exception of my cars and few belongings that were stored with them. The call is now turning slightly unpleasant. He is trying to suggest this thing I should be getting without so much as a hint as to what it is he is not hinting at very well. Finally I have to piece it together, from what he is asking he must be thinking he could take me to court over what amounts to pretty much a handful of trinkets. They have no sentimental value to him and pretty much couldn’t be sold for any substantial amount of money, and anything that he could even possibly come close to proving he was entitled to wouldn’t be worth anything to him anyway. He says he is going to have a litigation suit brought up. I laugh at him. Do you even know what litigation means. I worked at one of the biggest credit/bank institutions in the world. I know exactly what it means. I advise him he can’t go after me anymore than I could go after him, and yes, I already consulted law enforcement professinals and there is nothing I could gain, and you have even less to gain. During the course of this conversation I have been driving to the house, walking around it, and am now standing in some ravine, as my brother and a close friend are monkeying around with a livewire that appears to be grounded in the ground right at my feet. It leads up to a pole where the cables go off to houses. And the cable is not shielded. My friend crouches down and tries to sneak underneath the cable and his hair smokes and almost catches fire. The End.