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Entry #417

Spiraling Out Of Cunt Roll

5/7/14 by nietzlawe

SPIRALING OUT OF CUNT ROLL

The rain was pouring, the beard was growing thicker... The slump was getting longer, and the Hiatus was starting to feel more and more permanent... NeverHundred had recently been stripped of his Best at Sex: Best at Puns trophy... Now the only thing that me and Eric was suffering from was dystrophy... Mental dystrophy... Nine Inch Lives had disbanded months ago, and large quantities of drugs had been consumed with enormous Kegs of alcohol served up by German women in Dirndl's... We had lived the dream, not realising that we were only being used... Taken advantage of, exploited by corrupt Record Label bosses that wanted us to perform without a break, fans that didn't see the real side of Show Bidness. Groupies that didn't even look us in the eyes when they were riding our cocks... They were only there to be noticed, for the free drugs and booze, for the wild lavish parties... They didn't care about us or our talents... They just wanted to stick their talons into us and bleed us dry... We had reached the end of the road, we were sinking into depression... Even affording to pay the rent on the dishevelled apartment became impossible, we had lost everything, our looks, our talent, our sense of humour... The drugs had killed us on the inside, we were washed up, no longer able to smile and joke or party like it was 2010... We could barely muster the energy to sit on the torn armchairs in the scruffy flat and watch late-night tv, everything was a chore... There were other bands out there now, and they were doing it better than us, we were yesterday's news - today... We sat and watched, envious, drunk off our tits, shaking with paranoia, cursing the day we became famous... Why did we change? We said that fame would not change us, instead it has chained us. Now we are isolated, barricaded away from the public like a zombie outbreak... Ashtrays and half-eaten pizza boxes lay scattered across the table, empty bottles and used needles, spillages and burns on the carpet... The tv blaring out in the background, pressing at the + button, scouring the channels, looking for some seedy late-night drama or totally trashy game show presented by a fat slime ball host that enjoys humiliating dysfunctional guests who would do anything for money... Like we did. Sell our souls to the goddamn fucking Devil. Now the Devil has our souls pinned up on the wall... The Record Bosses threatening to kill us for no longer being able to perform... We were worth more dead than alive to them, all of our music was locked down and profitable to everybody but ourselves... We were just the puppets in the firing line, drugged to the eyeballs, wasted, sat in hypnotic trances picking at conjunctivitis, farting, pigging out on greasy takeaways that we didn't even dare to answer the door to pay the delivery driver... He had to feed the food through a tiny slot literally piece-by-piece until it was just a pile of goo inside a saturated cardboard box... Then we would pay him using a jar full of fake coins that he failed to notice were fake coins... Then the Dog would get to the pizza before we did, so we would end up starving or putting a tin of soup on the stove and forget about it so that it would bubble over and trouble us by causing a mass spillage all over the hobs... The milk had turned sour, we barely even communicated anymore... A part of me and A part of Eric died when the band had capsized and left us plunging the depths of this cold deep ocean alone and lost with nothing except pure misery, and to pass the time we would make homemade bows and shoot arrows at the tv to turn the channel over when the batteries in the remote started to die... Then the prolonged sitting led to prolapsed haemorrhoids and we fell into further depression slumps ignoring the phone calls which were Mafia type people issuing death threats, just because we couldn't play frets anymore... Making toast was impossible, we lost weight and started to look anorexic, wracked with pain, guilt and inescapable trauma... Sinking further into the depths of doom and depression, with no room for anything other than gloom and repression... Too weak to be aggressive, these were trying times, we couldn't be reached, times were hard... In the end we were so dazed and confused we were drinking beer out of ashtrays, the whole living room had turned into a pigsty... We were able to use the pile of junk as a foot rest... Somehow a pigeon had flown in through the small open living room window and was sat on my head pooping and pecking at my hair, pulling out strands to make an SOS sign, but none of the neighbours noticed... We were dying and withering away, another nail was hammered into our proverbial coffins when somebody was parading the Best at Sex: Best at Puns trophy on stage on tv... I threw a glass at the screen which made a big crack down the middle but didn't knock the picture off... We then started to trash the room, throwing furniture around, and breaking things on the wall, the dog hid behind the sofa... Pizza was flung, glass was broken, blood seeped out of knuckles... We struggled around the room, confused, picking up a couple of guns, we were about to end it all... We loaded them up, held them to our foreheads and was just about to fire... When there was a knock at the door...

Opening the slot, I peered outside. There were two figures. They identified themselves as... 

Doomroar and VicariousE.

To be continued...


Comments

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DoomroarDoomroar

6/30/14

I would need to upgrade my dexterity points first.

3 weeks ago nietzlawe responds:

Well when you have finished upgrading your dexterity points, then, and only then will we send out the plague. It will give you plenty of time to avoid it.


DoomroarDoomroar

6/26/14

Oh, that is a great warning then i will avoid reviews and the like.

6/30/14 nietzlawe responds:

Avoid spoilers like the plague. Avoid the plague too.


DoomroarDoomroar

6/2/14

I partially agree here, while the origin of randomness can be ambiguous, its execution and the things that it shows can be explicit, is just that hey happen out of nowhere, in an unexpected manner, and if you use it constantly you end at risk of having just nonsense, nonsense with nothing to say, and if it says something it has nothing to back itself with.

That is another problem if the reader is already distrusting the author and it story, then the whole experience decreases in quality.

Haven't read that one, indeed 1st time that i come across it, i will give it a search, seems interesting.

6/25/14 nietzlawe responds:

The Third Policeman is an interesting story with a very good twist. I recommend knowing absolutely nothing at all before reading the book.


DoomroarDoomroar

5/25/14

Ah but salad fingers doesn't really has a something like a linear defined plot.

Exactly that is why i don't think that his process may apply, the whole process is too different.

However even if life is a collection of algorithms that make our circumstances, our life is still a lineal process, with a beginning and an end, and as we live it, we objectivity it, bringing it out of ambiguity, the problem is that this objectivization of life is just an illusion, however this illusion is still linear some even say that it works under infinite repetitions.
On the other hand stories like Salad Fingers don't really follow this scheme and even if they are presented in serialization you can't really say that they have something like an internal timeline, sure some episodes have clear time defining events to make a connection between them, but the overall thing is fairly random, and is that randomness that makes is good.

But to give a random end to a defined story is just shitting on the audience, stomping all over the previous thing that was being build, and is not that i am saying that it can't be done right, but most of the time it will lead into a load of bull shit, just look at superman, how many times has his fucking story been rebuild? the number must be on the hundreds, reading that story is pointless and a waste of time, so much that they refer to it as time lines, and is practically taking an establishing story and giving it whatever end you may like, that may work for things with ambiguity but superman has nothing of that, everything is out there in the table, an open end is uncalled for, indeed that is just a fucking disgusting excuse to keep a money cow alive, so they can milk her for all that is worth and then some more.

6/2/14 nietzlawe responds:

Randomness is mostly ambiguity in my opinion. A lot of people accuse randomness for a lack of answers, but sometimes, ambiguity is the answer. I find that the readers will always read more into a story and come up with all kinds of conspiracies, more than the author even intended. It's important as the author to tell the exact story that was inside their mind, otherwise it becomes tainted by adhering to other people's expectations.

I know what you mean by the shitty random end to a defined story. The one that came to my mind was Cell by Stephen King. I was quite enjoying it, until the end, when.. Well I can't even remember what happened, it was that empty. It left me feeling like I'd just wasted my time getting there.

I don't even bother with Superman, Batman or any of that type of stuff anymore. I never took any of those stories with anything more than a pinch of salt.

The Third Policeman by Flann O'Brien (Brian O'Nolan) was one of the more satisfying endings I've experienced when reading a book.


DoomroarDoomroar

5/25/14

See that is what i am saying, there are no answers to none of those questions, so damn pointless, you just make your own answer whatever it is and let your brain to convince itself that that's the road to follow, that's nice on its own, but to translate into fiction, is just pissing on the reader, why the hell would you read a life simulator that is not descriptive and on top of that is based on who knows who and what fantasy? to makes things worse the things doesn't even has an end, you know what that is exactly my problem with DC and Marvel their stories will never end.

5/25/14 nietzlawe responds:

I like Salad Fingers and want to know definitively what is happening, but at the same time I don't because it's the ambiguity that keeps it intriguing to me.

I think when Firth is writing the episodes, there is an element of him that doesn't know the bigger picture clearly in his mind, but when he is writing each episode, he senses certain things that make sense and relevant to what is going on, this is really a collection of his thoughts, feelings that he has internalised subliminally and then applied externally.

I personally think it would be very difficult for him to write a satisfying conclusion to Salad Fingers because the answer would disappoint many. Like the ending of Lost, that really disappointed me.

Truly, life is a collection of complex algorithms all operating at once.


DoomroarDoomroar

5/21/14

Trivial things? endings are important! imagine if everything was a cliffhanger followed with ambiguity and a bunch of open endings? fiction would be just like life, how boring is that?

5/24/14 nietzlawe responds:

A trivial pursuit of trivial things. Life is a journey, to find meaning, but at the same time, meaning only provides more questions. Life is just a series, to find the answers that we're seeking, but in a manner of speaking it's the mysteries that are actually more intriguing.

Or is it? Martin Demise is the grand master of the Loose End.


CyberdevilCyberdevil

5/20/14

Haha, well, I'll be looking forward to the next double duple!

Yeah personally I strive for conclusivity in every facet of life, but it gets annoying, I'd rather not care so much about such trivial things. Oh, an old post that stands out amongst old posts I suspect, on route to read...

And Den marked for publication? Woot!

That 'I always counter pepper spray with my eyeballs, which incidentally, hurts.' comment was worth a whole post btw.

5/24/14 nietzlawe responds:

The next double duple like a second helping of dog doo quadrupled like a squadron of squids all watching Tron, spon-taneously, shamelessly laughing at an anus scene heinously, even though there ain't any tasteless anus scenes in that damn film, it's a fucking PG thirteen!

We'd all like answers, conclusivity and loose ends tying up, BUT.........

Den marked, and then marked.. for publication by my Great Dane. Even though the idea originally came from this Great Brain of a Great, Britain, and now my Great Dane dog is taking all the credit, which in my opinion is a Great Shame.

I counter pepper spray like women counter jizz shots.


CyberdevilCyberdevil

5/15/14

Aha.

Intense. Are the remaining 27 chapters in revisionary mode, soon to be posted? Or could that be a figurative of speechlessness, I mean: writing?

I read that last line as "I want to leave a lot of unfinished things behind before I die." For a moment I was thinking: what a refreshing thought, what virtue to be able to spout out projects without bothering with completion, being able to feel fulfilled simply by the ventilation that these textual odysseys bring!

5/20/14 (Updated 5/20/14) nietzlawe responds:

Aha. Alan Partridge...

The remaining chapters are in crates, sealed crates, surrounded in steel chains and 24/7 armed gua..

I'm joking, yep, revisionary mode. But I'm definitely liking the idea of posting four chapters at a time.

I intend to leave the whole nexus out there before I perish due to *natural causes* "But that bullet to the head wasn't natural causes!" said conscience. Turns out that when I got shot in the head, my conscience ducked underneath the bullet and survived, while I died, and now conscience is operating things from inside the control room.

Each to their Own, another piece that WILL be continued:

http://nietzlawe.newgrounds.com/news/post/443313

When hell freezes over! *long maniacal laugh*

.. No seriously though, it will be Finished. Or Swedished or Norwayed.


DoomroarDoomroar

5/14/14

Well as long as it is on a screen it is all pixels.

That will be one long nexus.

5/20/14 nietzlawe responds:

A nexus, from Long Beach to Texas, we'll finish this thing no matter how long it takes us.

Pixellated like Japanese genitalia.


CyberdevilCyberdevil

5/14/14

Man this just keeps getting more and more messed up, detailing the gruelingly gritty and depressive yet comedically crazy and state of a vaguely familiar set of familiar characters with deranged detail, and it ends with an epoque of recognition! What next? And what with the Opus btw? How many concurrent tales are you actively scripting? Been reading these at work if you wonder about the sudden burst o' comments, can read but not write over there, logging onto an account via public wifi is a huge never ever after the previous disaster.

5/14/14 nietzlawe responds:

The idea stemmed from NeverHundred's post, where he felt defeated and hopeless, combined with a slight sequel ' esque feel to Nine Inch Lives, this blog:

http://nietzlawe.newgrounds.com/news/post/471164

The Opus is also a story I concocted a fair while ago, which then snowballed into 31 chapters and still going. It didn't start off intently as a story, not until the mention of the sniper women on the roof. The instant that very thought entered my mind, it registered that this was going to become a story.

Hundreds of scripts, all fragmented, more being added. It's a nexus really. I want to leave a lot of things behind before I die.


DoomroarDoomroar

5/13/14

Who doesn't wants to get a good look at dem boob physics?

5/14/14 nietzlawe responds:

Watch dem boobs get physical. Pixellated Oreos.


DoomroarDoomroar

5/12/14

Desmond Miles, full name: John Ryan Desmond Miles, wanted (dead or alive) for cryptically putting in rhyme certain words together in the LackaDaisyChainiCal of life.

5/13/14 nietzlawe responds:

Maybe it was a sign that just read:

John Ryan Desmond Miles wanted Dead or Alive 5. Because of the jiggling cartoon breasts.


I really meant my renaissance, but no one else took me seriously. It was a hot dog renaissance,
big reds. With mustard laughs.

5/12/14 nietzlawe responds:

That thought is almost as disturbing as a Ren and Stimpy séance.


VicariousEVicariousE

5/11/14

Oh sure, I had a few bouts with IBS in my late 20's and 30's, it's your body's way of saying you're not eating right, or your immune system could use a few new additions. And stress, I think that was a big part of it too.

You know, I don't think I ever realized, how long your country was on a rationing system, after the war. I knew France was the pits, likely still is, but while Americans were getting fat and rich in the mid 20th, your country was still languishing... then the 70's happened, to both countries, and it doesn't look like we're going to get any better.

And they wonder why kids have such post apocalyptic sensibilities; we're closer to the end than a new meaningful renaissance. Compare computer and post modern knowledge with frescoes and paintings from the Renaissance... we're just kidding ourselves, our faith in God is gone, replaced with faith in man.

5/12/14 (Updated 5/12/14) nietzlawe responds:

I weigh about 13 stone. My diet is not ideal, very few greens, if any, get plenty of bottled water and skimmed milk, love my fresh juice not from concentrate. But love my takeaways and chocolate, pastries. Managed to wolf a full tub of Ben and Jerrys Cookie Dough down yesterday without even thinking.

Posture I think can cause a bit of IBS.

Honestly. I bet you probably know more about the history of my country than me. I'm kind of closed-off in the mind to things like that, just because I know deep down, that while ordinary civilians are getting fucked over, the elitist war-mongering fat wasters are living in some underground bunker with luxuries laughing about the shitstorms they've caused in the world.

The best kind of faith you can have is in yourself, to find your true you, to really dig inside and pull out what truly makes you happy, then make it happen. Happiness is not equated to more wealth. That is why wealthy people still blow their brains out or overdose on drugs.

Life is all about creating that balance for oneself, the perfect blend of appreciation and pleasure and knowing the difference between 'want' and 'need.'


DoomroarDoomroar

5/8/14

Again i never know what is true and what is a pun for the sake of rhyming, but well.

The competence for that trophy is hard man.

5/11/14 nietzlawe responds:

Everything is true. Everything is permitted. My name is Desmond Miles, give me an inch and I'll take a mile... y Cyrus poster and coat it in lifeforce.

I don't like to rhyme words for the sake of rhyming, there are usually two or three reasons for connecting certain words together, it's not always the rhyme or the pun, wordplay, literary devices all play their part in the LackaDaisyChainiCal of life.

Winning trophies is overrated! Said the losing acts. Then they stormed out of that award ceremony in a huff, and it was covered by the Huffington Post, who like all cunty journalistic sources made the most of a small situation.


..or less teeth :| I had a coffee w/ packet sugar today, and noticed after a few hours my back teeth hurting lightly. So I had a diluted soda (old habit, since I was allowed only 1 soda a day as a kid), and the germ ratios are back to normal.

5/11/14 nietzlawe responds:

It's almost like saying, the best way to kill a headache is with a knife.

But hell, it works. I remember having a bit of irritable bowel syndrome once, but it was nothing that a bit of lethal coca cola couldn't sort out.


DoomroarDoomroar

5/8/14

Meh, those Best at Sex: Best at Puns trophies are overrated anyway.

Wait you really did got your wisdom teeth off? you talked about that in the previous post if i remember right.

5/8/14 nietzlawe responds:

Most of the stuff I write about is true, close to the nerve type material. Quite literally in this case.

I want a trophy that says Best at Nothing: LMAO.


No, likely not. As it is, most dentists prefer to do one thing at a time, to reduce infection and strain on the immune system. But I will probably have a wisdom and regular tooth pulled at once, since they're side by side, hopefully cheaper that way :p

My gingivitis has more than one strain going for it, so my really bad cavities in the back, are more or less protected from infection, by creating a leather shield/super colony of sorts... gross, but I'm not in pain.

5/8/14 nietzlawe responds:

Well, here's to good teeth in the future.


Good Lord man, didn't they take an X-ray first? Terrible luck, that |: Does it have to be removed, or will they let it pop out on it's own? Getting my last two wisdom teeth pulled soon... half assed job from half a lifetime ago, now it's gonna cost almost 3x much. Stupid economy |:

You'll be fine mate, I've had plenty worse :) (ow!)
:|

5/8/14 nietzlawe responds:

Yes, I had the X-ray beforehand. The wisdom tooth wasn't even loose, but a bit had broken off. I remember eating it by accident actually along with some chicken chargrills. I said, "these chicken steaks are a bit crunchier than usual." Couldn't put a filling in the wisdom, so recommended pulling it out... To be fair it was giving me a bit of jip on and off, so I said, 'sod it, pull the mofo' and that led to that. It's pretty standard to go and have the roots removed, shouldn't take too long. It's just waiting for that appointment, it can take from 2 - 8 weeks. Not ideal when you want to get on with things.

If the gum heals over the roots and it's not causing any problem at all, I might just leave it alone. But more likely I'll get their recommendation and take it from there.

Will you have both of your wisdoms pulled at the same time?


Looking up at the sky and I'm pissed that it's not caving in.

5/8/14 nietzlawe responds:

I want to laugh, but my sore gum wont allow me.


I deny I identified myself... I just got out of the bathroom a few days ago. It's a pleasant spring night, light rain, good stink. It's also dark out there, and the electronic lights are amazing my digital withdrawal....

I heard you wrote a mini magnum opus in my absence.

5/8/14 nietzlawe responds:

A mini opus the size of Minneapolis. It's a story that has been on a simmering heat for quite a while. Hopefully the next chapters will bring the story to boiling point.

Spring rain smell, it's not bad, fresh lawn stench and a slight gasoline. So you didn't knock at the door with Doomroar? Damn man, now me and Eric are hallucinating. Fictionally.

I had my wisdom tooth extracted and it snapped when the Dentist pulled it out, leaving the roots still embedded in the gum. Need to have those taken out, the toothache is hard to bear at the moment, the painkillers are doing a pretty good job. I wouldn't normally take a pill, but they literally kill the pain stone dead for a good 5 hours.

When this thing stops giving me jip, I'll be back on the portal with alarming religious regularity again. NG Till I Die... Oh wait, a bit of dust.. Ffffww.. NG Till I Diet. Damn, shouldn't have blown the dust off.

At least this gum isn't bleeding anymore, or leaving me at the mercy of the slightest mouth movement causing excruciating pain.