Entry #402

Mastery Of The Senses

2014-03-17 22:58:12 by nietzlawe


Mastery of the senses, put up your defences goddammit, these are damage limitation tactics. This whole chapter is madness. Man this is sad, but damn, Sade has it in for his fellow man. Hellish anger, you should harangue your head in shame, spank yourself with the rattan cane. Walk around with a Latin name. You look so animated, with a fascination for satirisation. An iris blind, to hide a side of mindless childish and fly-on-the-wall tyranny disguised by sarcasm and irony. Silently writing a dynasty, a tidal wave that creeps up on you, privately. Right were we? Spitefully spiralling into a cycle of stridency. An indecent assault of the mind, salt in the wound is unkind, but it really is no fault of mine if you feel insulted by rhymes. Offence is taken not given, don't be mistaken for what's written down. I don't know whether to treat you with kid gloves or mittens. It always starts with this, Stars of the Lid, then it begins with an unstoppable march to the finish line. Which just typifies the pedigree, its hereditary, but second nature. Writing is a craft I openly hate and love, but I'll write even if I have to suffer a sprain and cause pain to my rotator cuff. Even if your hands and arms are sore later, at least you were able to use those thoughts in your favour. If anything, the pain they cause give them more flavour and make them more savoury. Another collection of statements made, no longer caged in the containment of your head. Its so important that you said this shit, put to bed and told this shit instead of withholding it. Releasing this serotonin the only way you know how, and you now know how far you'll go to blow off a little steam, no need to waste saline, when you can just oil the word machine and make everything seem seamless. Its just routine, what you do, nothing new, its the same soup, from the tureen. The same gloop that you serve, the Soy Green, with a side dish of sushi and soybeans. And Wasabi. Disregard, but not a dilettante. Never likely to ever put those hands away, even while wracked with cramp and pain. If anything it'll just ramp up the chainsaw. there are no lengths that we ain't going to. No pain barrier that's not worth going through. Even when its throwing you in front of a train. Or you get hooked on the nose of the Malaysian plane. Legerdemain, those ardent hands sharpened, ready to embark on a darker stance. You have half a brain, so at least you have half a chance. So now, let's just hope that the others understand the circumstances that made you part of this circus band. From the cauldron bowels of Doldrum land, you want sympathy Nietz? You want me to hold your hand? You always were a lonesome chap, trapped, in a world of make-believe and detached from the unimportant crap. Its awesome that you broke loose, and soaked through, the cracks, it was a masterstroke which destiny brought you. And now the strength of will will goad, and light the road up, Stars of the Lid will brighten the lobes and enlighten your thoughts, heighten as you're writing the notes... Tonight you are mastering the senses.


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2014-03-17 23:49:59


nietzlawe responds:

Terrance and Laugh-man : Drum Roll.


2014-03-18 00:51:45

I read it and it was good. No excuse for not reading it, if it all fits on one page. That's a truly astonishing piece. I really wish you'd have been published by now... how many posh buggers do you have to blow, to get some dough (advance and royalties).

Or worse. You remember OG Loc? I gotta ask Tom about possible copyright infringement... I know copy and pasted reviews and such are big no no's....

nietzlawe responds:

How many posh buggers do you have to blow and get buggered by? Buggered bi. Dayum. I'd rather just write a book, then politely approach the posh buggers, and say, 'hi, do you like my story?' If they say 'nope.' THEN I'll have to blow the posh buggers. "You wanna get that book out there?" -- "Well.. er.. you know what the deal is." *zips down flies* -- "B-b-but, there must be another way?" -- "Oh, there is no other way, this is the only way you're getting published. So what'll it be?" *Really evil camp laughter*

OG Loc, yes, I remember that character from GTA.


2014-03-18 16:55:39


nietzlawe responds:



2014-03-20 18:46:36

Yes Terrance ad Laugh-man both of them died that tragic day along the whole of TROT HQ, of course their enemies did a bunch of drum rolls in celebration.

nietzlawe responds:

Terrance and Laugh-man had trotted out all their old excuses for what went wrong. But the truth is...

Wait a minute?! Terrance and Laugh-man died?!

This is news to me!


2014-03-21 20:54:17

Of course man the only survivors where the IBA and Some Say.

You already knew that...

nietzlawe responds:

There were no survivors, except Sir. V. Ivor.


2014-03-21 23:48:55

Sir. V. Ivor survived because he wasn't even at TROT HQ when "it" happened.

(Updated ) nietzlawe responds:

That's right. He was at a completely different TROT HQ that day :



2014-03-24 07:04:35

As a true horse lover Sir. V. Ivor was that day looking for more members for the next planned trot around the quite but charming greenery lands of England and some times Scotland.

nietzlawe responds:

Sir V. Ivor was an intelligent, sophisticated gentleman. Why the hell would he go to TROT HQ and get himself altered permanently by an explosion similar to Chernobyl, just so he could steal beards, fight on cliffs and trains, lose his hair, produce unfinished movies, cultivate plants and pioneer beanstalk elevato......

... On second thoughts.. Sir V. Ivor is missing out on life.


2014-03-28 19:05:41

But Sir V. Ivor was a man of peace and quiet, at his age all that high emotion was too much on him, just a quiet ride by horse next to some farms is enough to satisfy him, if only he was younger, and wilder, and bolder, and less of a horse fetishist...

nietzlawe responds:

That was all just a front. When the cameras were off, Sir V. Ivor partied like it was 1995. I heard he used to raid caves, slay dragons and collect many a Mammoth Tusk.


2014-03-29 03:38:21

All while on top of his many horses, while going completely bareback riding.

nietzlawe responds:

It was either ride horses, or ride his whore sis. But that was incest, so he insisted on riding the horses instead.