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By the way, the odd mention of him bringing a velvet rose with him for some reason is actually a reference to William Control's logo of the same name. He initially used the phrase as a poetic euphemism for a vagina, and now uses it as his main logo for the project. He's even got silk-screened vests with it that he wears in concert. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=vW3VkRTdpUc
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Mar 9, 2020 19:46
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Chapter 9quote:The lobby of this hotel I am leaving has crusted white demons and black angels sitting on couches made of velvet and hand carved ebony. They sit motionless and stale watching as I hobble down the center corridor towards the front door. I can feel their eyes burning holes into my oversized clothing, judging as I pass, wishing they could annihilate me with fiery breath. No wait, it’s an elderly couple, and a man that resembles a cheap pimp I saw on an HBO special once. My mind is playing with me and I need some air. I step out onto the sidewalk and am frozen with terror. No reason. Maybe I’ve been locked away in that smelly room for too long. I am shivering but can’t feel my body. “This is ridiculous. Pull yourself together,” I mutter. The fresh air of the city smacks me into place; I pull out a cigarette and hastily press it between my lips, light, inhale and exhale. Satisfy. There is something so delicious and lucid in the first moments of a nicotine fix. "Dude, what if like...it was the demons who were white and the angels who were black. Did you ever think about that?" quote:In that moment and with the same breath, a woman in a fitted black trench coat approaches me. I’m transfixed. It’s fluttering in her stride, partly open and I can see the skin-tight latex dress hugging her perfect curves underneath. She has red hair. I try to force a smile but the weak limp of my lips cannot crack and I end up pulling a weird face. That's just how he normally looks. quote:“Follow me.” She says. That sounds exactly like a car, Will. quote:“Hand me your bag and get in,” she instructs coolly. Why Sears and Roebuck? They haven't sold shotguns in ages. What an odd metaphor to choose. quote:For the next five minutes we drive in total silence. Nothing but the sound of the concrete under the tires and I am beginning to think this was a very bad idea. She has taken her jacket off and is sitting directly across from me. I notice that her tits are perfect. 34 D. The latex is shining from the dim light overhead. I am wondering if she was sent to kill me. My luck. Probably. I can’t stop the blood flow to my dick and soon I am hard with nothing to cover it up, because my suitcase is in the trunk. She notices and I can see a slight grin. Her legs start to move and for a second I think I am going to get the scene in Basic Instinct where Sharon Stone is being interrogated and flashes her pussy to the detective across the room. gently caress me she’s uncrossing her legs, and double gently caress me she isn’t wearing any panties. I’ve got to be dreaming. Her oval office is perfect, hairless and picturesque. I can almost taste her. My dick is so hard now I might pass out. I should have eaten something. Just casually going about my business in a latex dress and trench coat. quote:“My name is Hope,” she says, as she applies her left leg over her right. And my name is "Clumsy Symbolism". quote:“Did you enjoy that?” Nobody talks like this! Not a single person has spoken like this in their life! He's a loving walking fedora with a heroin needle stuck in him! quote:We get onto the freeway just south of the stadium used only for a losing baseball team and I can see the city lights flickering all around us. The night is clean. Quiet. I feel the panic lurching towards me again. The sea of shadow is about to swallow me up and I might not return from this trash heap I call home. I would die laughing if the book suddenly introduced vampires at this point. It's already gone off the rails every other chapter. quote:“Of course we are friends. I’m sure that you have many questions and concerns. I am here to answer those concerns and to put your mind at ease, in this, the most important era of your existence.” This is just gross. We're supposed to believe this guy is some sexy gothic lover boy with a huge dick and he's just the trashiest, most pathetic individual you could write. quote:I close my eyes and try to imagine large vats of pig intestines and chopped up horse brains, the severed heads of lions and frogs. I scan the files from old movies stored away in terabytes of little children with leukemia and other forms of infectious disease; Polish and other European Jews from the holocaust starving and broken. I look for images of people getting hit by trains or jumping to their death from skyscrapers. This erection is embarrassing and I need it to go away. Like any normal person, I also envision the Holocaust to get rid of my boners. quote:“William….” In a hushed and soothing tone she says, “Open your eyes.” Chapter 10 quote:A monster lives and breathes inside of me. I’ve given it a name a hundred times and still I cannot decipher the code of intellect and humiliation. He reaches the depths of my fundamental being and knows the secrets I carry around like heavy bricks from an old burned out chimney. Chords and fiber, sinew and charred black tendons hold me together to create this fiend so profound, and I am at the whim of his malevolence, his never-ending pit of malice and disgrace. As hard as I try to rid myself of this demon, he attaches with superior tenacity and I simply have to come to terms with the fact that I am what I am, at all times. All I can do now is hide behind the surreptitious mask of lucidity in hopes that no one will discover the exact nature of my being. Bro, how long were you thinking about genocide? quote:Carsickness is funny. One minute you’re fine and the next you’re retching into the console next to you, covering the gear shifter with rancid bile that burns so bad you wish you were dead. It’s just like being sick from heroin. What a disease we are, fragile and pale with no shell to keep us safe. Just sinew and blood, mucous and plasma held together by thin layers of skin. Humans. Pathetic. Oh yeah, he's also fond of the "Humans are just sacks of meat and chemicals! I'm the only one who knows we're animals!" rhetoric that every teenager goes through after they find r/atheism. quote:I hear Hope’s voice coaxing me back to reality. I snap into it. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=JXN86wCXFCQ quote:“My dear William, behind me on the seat is a notebook with instructions on how to brave the great adventure of the living and expand your horizons in the world of a true and faithful libertine. In this book you will find exactly what you’re looking for: the knowledge of right and of wrong, the taste of honey and mortal departure, the rules of fornication and how to survive on the landscape of virtue and the ambiguous path of vice. You were given the choice of surviving in the eternity of a paradise so profound that you cannot fathom its existence even now. To remain there you would have had to forsaken your beloved and vow to never speak of her again. Her name would have never passed betwixt your lips and you would have had to live with the regret of letting her go into the darkness forever. This book is at odds with itself. Everything is either this stupid purple prose or vulgar, crude pornography. It's like a swinging pendulum of immaturity by a man in his mid-30s who never got past his teenage sensibilities. quote:“What if I don’t want another chance? What if I just want to forget this whole disgusting adventure? How can I even begin to go on?” I stammer inelegantly. All right, seize the day! Take no prisoners! You're an agent of Lucifer himself! You can-- quote:Her hand has been rubbing the outline of my dick throughout this little prologue. The blood is flowing south and my head is a like balloon. Empty. I am thoughtless, as per usual. Oh, or we could just do more sex stuff. Sure. quote:She starts to unbutton my trousers and I think I may explode the moment she touches my bare cock. I can’t imagine what it smells like down there. Piss mixed with garbage and sweat and surely…poo poo. I'm going to loving barf. quote:poo poo. I squirm beneath her grasp and she tightens her grip on my thighs, I am inside her mouth, warm and delicious. Her tongue is generous and this is Heaven. Except, I know there is no Heaven for us, here in Hell. She is a professional. She has gleaned a new lesson from every cock that has ever been in her mouth. Hope is just writing Dick Sucking for Dummies in her spare time. Keeps a notebook in her trench coat with bullet points like "Dentures: A Possible Solution." quote:Leaning back and melting into the leather I close my eyes again and the green grass of a valley I’ve never seen comes into view, the clouds overhead look heavy and ready to burst. There’s Vivienne holding my son off in the distance and all I want is to wrap them both in my arms, tell them that I love them and never let go. I run towards them and the faster my legs push, the farther away they fall, until they are both gone from sight and I’m left standing in the rain. Like a fool. An angry vicious fool with nothing left to lose. I fall to my knees and scream at the sky, cursing the existence of a reality I cannot seem to control. I’m lost. Livid. I think about the resentment, anger and hatred that dwells deep within my bones. The mercy with which I can flip a switch and then end up on the ground in tears pounding my fists against the sky and screaming why me. I think about my own failure of not being able to save my sister as she was raped and murdered when we were in the midst of our own adolescent Hell, the way I have tried and failed so many times to be a good person but invariably chose the darkest of the two paths presented to me, the ugliness I’ve seen and the insurmountable urge to jump off a bridge because I couldn’t save Vivienne from the burning wreckage of my Continental. Everything is a plague and I am at the whim of my shattered emotions. I’ve carried the weight of this around for centuries, or so it seems. Somehow I need to learn to let go. God, it just hits you like a loving baseball bat when he does that. quote:I am softly weeping as I spill a tremendous amount of my lust into the back of her throat. She continues to suck and slide up and down the shaft of my dick as I cum, slowly. This is the blowjob is otherworldly. For a moment I die and fall into her. No better way to prove that you're typing one-handed than that stray "is the" sitting there. quote:She leans back on her knees, returning to eye level, she licks her lips and wipes the dripping cum from her chin and says, “You should take a shower.” "That was literally the worst thing that has ever been in my mouth, and I work for Satan himself." quote:She sits back on the seat and adjusts her latex dress that has shifted to one side. It’s shining black, sleek and revealing. I can hardly stand it. I want to know what it smells like when I peel it from her skin and taste what is underneath. Desire, strong and eloquent. She is water and I am a dying traveler dehydrating to death in the desert. You want to know...what her skintight dress smells like? I'll spoil it for you: sweat. It smells like a loving gym locker room. quote:She opens the door and I can tell I am on the ground floor drop off for passengers traveling out of SeaTac Airport. She hands me the notebook and an envelope filled with crisp one hundred dollar bills and a First Class ticket to London Heathrow. She tells me I don’t need my suitcase, that there’s enough money in there to buy whatever I needed. I can’t take a switchblade on the plane and I’m sure there’s another copy of Dorian Grey floating around somewhere. Goodbye “American Tourist,” I think to myself, good loving riddance. Wait, why did he bother telling us everything that he's packing if he was going to just throw it all away two chapters later? quote:She explains that this is an opportunity to forget all the sorrow and pain wrought upon by life’s cruel surgeon. It feels like an infomercial and I am starting to see a sliver of optimism. Hope. What a fitting name. Almost like the writer is a hack! quote:I step out on to the concrete. Serenity is rushing over me. The calm of dead prisoners rioting. Desolate glass surface of the sea just before a brutal storm. I walk silently through the terminal to the gate of departure. There are very few people here and it must be a holiday. It’s so quiet I can hear my own mortality walking right beside me. I stand next to a case of old relics from Native American tribes that were pillaged, raped and eventually annihilated by some crazy Protestant Christian groups trying to spread the “love” of Jesus Christ to the “savages” of a new land. Idiots. This is a guy who makes sure to loudly scoff and roll his eyes every time he passes a church. quote:My reflection is in the glass looking back at me. I recognize him this time, and when I look away I notice he doesn’t move. The shadows covering our faces change in a time-lapse black and white film noir. You just got your sweaty, smegma-crusted dick sucked in the car before getting kicked to the curb and you cried while it happened. There's no way you can make this moment feel triumphant. quote:My head stops spinning and I enter the galley doors of the Boeing 747. I make my way back to my seat and I’m not the only one on this flight. The air is stiff and grim. Packed like sardines in an ice cream truck with a broken air conditioner, the smell is horrendous. Isolation. I never feel quite as alone as I do when strangers and other disturbing mutants that call themselves human surround me. Our species in general is defunct. We are broken mules. Am I the weird one here? I've never once gotten on a plane and started scowling at how everyone around me is a mutant and I'm the only good guy here. It's such a loving ego trip. quote:“Sir would you like something to drink before we take off?” Yes. quote:I look up and it’s an old, leather-faced stewardess. The lines careening down her cheeks don’t move when she talks and it’s frightening. I bet this guy is envisioning himself as some Hunter S. Thompson kind of character. quote:I doubt there’s an airline in the world that would cater to that sort of drunken request, but it was worth a shot and I’ve got nothing to lose. Flashing back and forth between the pain regret and the truth of my actuality, I slam the first glass with ease. A fog begins to pass through my guts and I can feel my muscles starting to relax. I buckle my seat belt and prepare for take off. I was a dirt bag once and Vivienne saved me from the end, breathed new life into me and gave me purpose. She gives me strength, even in the epitome of failure and death, and yet here I am a broken dirt bag again, unable to grasp the concept of how I am going to live. And a dirt bag he shall remain. quote:I flip the notebook open from the back and start glancing through the pages towards the front. It’s filled with scrawling reminders. Photos of soaking wet cunts and flaccid dicks waiting to be sucked back to longevity and life. Ugly recaps of personal debauchery and I wonder who the gently caress else has He held captive and brought back from Hell. Hell. Truly. gently caress me. What a poo poo storm. Red ink crosses out black that crosses out blue. It has numbers and addresses, people to look up and places to visit, showing dates and times on which to show up, a perfect day planner for the illustrious debauchee. If you listened to "Razor's Edge" in the last chapter, these lyrics are taken directly from it. Amusingly, he actually makes a mistake on his own work: it's supposed to be "pull it hard." quote:Death is coming for me. I can feel her cold fingers running through my hair like the comb of an icy stranger seducing me to sleep. I shiver as she holds me in her arms and I know that nothing in this life matters any more. Taxes, mortgage repayments, heroin, glue and little Christmas cards with cute greetings written inside them are all just fodder for the machine of obtuse deities. Do I run and hide? Am I afraid? We are all afraid. Dying is the only thing that is certain in life and there is nothing more inevitable than rotting in a grave someday. Or so I thought. The famous deity of taxes and mortgages. quote:Where on earth am I going to find the willingness to navigate through it all? Am I strong enough for this? There no loving way I am. It would certainly make this book a lot shorter... quote:Yet, I am compelled to drag myself to the dusty finish line. Compelled by the love I have somewhere in my drowning heart and by the curiosity of a new adventure that will one day, surely kill me. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=sAL5QPzZiCU chitoryu12 fucked around with this message at 16:08 on Apr 2, 2020 |
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Mar 10, 2020 16:03
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chitoryu12 posted:"the lack of sanity I have been acquiring through the use of terrible and dangerous illicit substances, combined with the lack of not giving a gently caress, provides me with the courage I need to put one foot in front of the other and follow" The... lack of not giving a gently caress?  God this guy is such a poo poo writer, it's fascinating to watch. Also Satan has godawful (hah) handwriting.
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Mar 10, 2020 16:25
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I read your James Bond let's read, and it was a lot of fun, and informative, and got me into reading the books myself. I figured following you read a really lovely edgelord book would be fun in a different way. Revelator is making me mad. NOTHING HAS HAPPENED! Unless you're leaving out a lot of stuff, I have no idea what the plot is, and we're in what, chapter 10? Vivienne is a complete cipher (I mean, everyone is, but still,) and I think Satan gets more dialogue than she does. She and Billy have this great romance blah blah but he doesn't tell the reader thing one about her as a person. We know her job and car, and she apparently loves Billy for such complete nonreasons that she just blows a dude away at first sight of our hero. They barely interact, I guess she's damaged and weak and somehow Billy's he-man BDSM sex makes her feel good, again for reasons? Oh and then she's dead to make Billy feel bad and tragic and stuff. Not to mention the whole "junkie in deep poo poo with the mob, with the Feds after him and no visible means of support" thing is dropped like a hot rock with no resolution as Billy just kind of glides through the book with characters popping up to direct him to the next cool depraved thing that the author wants to have happen. Billy is in no way a protagonist because he does NOTHING. I don't think he makes a single choice or performs a single action that is relevant to the thing laughably called a plot or character "development". You can have stories where the protagonist is more acted upon than acting, (Candide, Like a Velvet Glove Cast in Iron,) but I'm pretty sure Billy isn't intending that, cause his character is such a cool, dark dude that he doesn't realize that he could be swapped out for a can of diet Coke for all the impact he has on the narrative. This is not even to mention the whole mommy/sex toy aspect any woman with a name has in this, there to take care of poor little Billy and provide sexual favors upon him all hot and kind and of course, very very clean, for no discernable reason despite his extreme lack of expressed personality and terrible hygiene (which is a synecdoche for his fascinating, depraved, and very masculine nature he really leans into,) and to wind him up his motor and point him in the direction of the plot that the author evidently feels we're not important enough to be privy to. I'm glad you're doing this thread because after an actually enjoyable book series, and having seen some read-alongs of bad books that were merely boring, this is some grade A poo poo from a grade A shithead you've found.
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Mar 10, 2020 18:11
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Dr. Sneer Gory posted:Revelator is making me mad. NOTHING HAS HAPPENED! Unless you're leaving out a lot of stuff, I have no idea what the plot is, and we're in what, chapter 10? I have not left out a single shred of this book. Everything you see here is what the book consists of. I'd rather people spend $10 to read it here than actually give this rapist money for his juvenile fantasies. I can assure you that the plot isn't going to make any more sense as it goes on, and in fact will probably get more confusing. We only have one chapter left in the first part and we'll move on to the really crazy poo poo from there (also think about how what we've already seen is far from the worst in the book).
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Mar 10, 2020 18:14
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chitoryu12 posted:I have not left out a single shred of this book. Everything you see here is what the book consists of. I'd rather people spend $10 to read it here than actually give this rapist money for his juvenile fantasies. I kind of figured you didn't, just because you were good about mentioning if you glossed over any relevant info in the James Bond thread, but I didn't realize you were including everything, which I thank you for, because you shouldn't have to bear the burden of reading this garbage alone. And I'm not sure there even if a plot, so I'm... excited isn't the word, exactly, but both repelled and fascinated by the idea that it gets worse. I did mean to thank you earlier for the James Bond thread, and am enjoying the Chitty Chitty Bang Bang epilogue for it. And thanks for doing this one too, terrible things like go right into my veins.
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Mar 10, 2020 18:29
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Chapter 11quote:Dear Vivienne, https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Ba4elDLmJls You'll notice that there's a sudden increase in the quality of this letter at the end. While so much of this book was a crude first draft overstuffed with vulgar ramblings and thesaurus overuse, the final few paragraphs of this letter were originally written for the ending of "Where The Angels Burn", the final track of The Neuromancer. I have a feeling that stuff was workshopped a lot more thoroughly than...everything else in this dreck. He still manages to slip "and ocean" instead of "an" in there, since he was presumably typing this all from memory and yet again not proofreading. This is the end of Book One, which means we're almost a third of the way through the story already! We'll pick up tomorrow with The Hate Culture and let ourselves get enveloped in a sticky, smelly, humid rabbit hole of 15-year-old sleaze. chitoryu12 fucked around with this message at 09:51 on Dec 24, 2020 |
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Mar 10, 2020 21:11
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You say 15 year old sleaze, and I am so desperately hoping you mean sleaze as a concept and not, you know, a sleazy fifteen year old. Because with this shithead, nothing would surprise me.
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Mar 11, 2020 02:11
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Sobatchja Morda posted:You say 15 year old sleaze, and I am so desperately hoping you mean sleaze as a concept and not, you know, a sleazy fifteen year old. Fortunately the former, though he has been accused of grooming underage fans.
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Mar 11, 2020 02:13
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 Chapter 1 quote:“Truth is always strange; stranger than fiction.” quote:Stranded on a claustrophobic island within my own head. The ghosts and apparitions from a seedy, bygone era are still lingering, jeering and knocking around like drunks without drinks. They suffer serious bouts of delirium tremens whilst shaking and whispering in the wind of my own madness. There’s nothing but the bones of old creatures lurking in the jungle rot. Demoralized are the limp limbs of crusty trees and for heavens sake, the smell coming from the east side of this plane is horrific. I’m a prisoner in an achromatic cubical, bolted down and strapped in, a wailing mental patient without a voice. A high-definition digital monitor plays a movie about two cops trying desperately to take down a drug dealer. I think one of them is psychologically unstable. I’m sitting on a cheap polyester seat that doubles as a floatation device just in case we crash-land into the vast expanse of the Atlantic Ocean. Safety first. This chair is horrific. The angle I am sitting in is tormenting my already broken posture. It doesn’t matter that I am in first-class. They want you to be as uncomfortable as possible. I believe the money spent engineering these seats was a waste. Or it’s a cruel experiment, an experiment on the intellect of the general public, on the patience of an involuntary recipient. Forever the lab rat I suppose. Does Francis just have a phobia of airplanes? quote:I unbuckle my restraints and stand up to stretch my legs. The muscles groan at the stress of malnourishment. The cabin pressure is loving with my equilibrium and as I make my way towards the lavatory marked “unoccupied”, I can feel the carpet underfoot shifting and boiling against my bare feet. Just like John McClane, I hate flying with shoes on. I have a Valium that I was able to sneak through security burning a hole in my pocket. Lucky me, I am so crafty sometimes. This toilet is going to be my sanctuary for the next ten minutes. Cramming into the tiny bathroom I pull the latch on the door behind me. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=bdL3DYcfjuM John McClane does not hate flying with shoes on. quote:Locked. Secured. Alone. Relief. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Cw61GlDPMZE quote:“It never ends with you, does it? No matter how far down the gamut you have gone, there is always one more thing to shovel into your face, or brain or bloodstream. When are you going to realize that losing your mind through drink and drug is but a symptom of your troubles? It’s the sneeze within the cold, the tumor… ” I'm going to start calling everything in my life "the sneeze within the cold." quote:Before the voice wraps up his redundant lecture I tell him to go gently caress himself this time. I don’t want to listen to his bullshit. I’m done listening to his bullshit. I’m done with bullshit in general. This is it for me. I’m on my way to the old world, to the charred black tendons and dirty brick boulevards of London Town. My escape. My unilateral move towards a standing ovation and my ultimate demise. Here I come! My reflection staring back at me is grim. He is always grim and foreboding. I’m not surprised. My pupils have been reduced to pins swimming in the hazel ocean of my iris and I am driven mad with the guilt supplied by shame and the remorse of my burning loneliness. I can assure you, there is nothing romantic at all about future events. quote:“Excuse me sir, are you feeling okay?” Oh yeah, this book is extra gross. I should mention that. quote:“But is anybody really Okay?” I say. “Does that even exist? Sure I can run two miles in the morning air, and drink a smoothie and feel okay, but that won’t negate the fact that I am falling apart, that I am fragmenting into pieces and generally, well, losing my mind.” Think about the rest of us having to be stuck with you as we read this! quote:I wish I had grabbed the book that was in my suitcase before leaving it with Hope, at least I would have something to occupy my drowning head. The channels are dry and I can’t take any more of this lovely cop flick. Hope. What a strange creature, beautiful and terrifying. I’m not really sure what to make of that broad. She explained a lot, yet left me with a mountain of questions that will probably go unanswered. Sounds like one of his latest songs. quote:I’ve consumed too many glasses of bottom shelf airplane scotch. Scotch mixed with Valium mixed with cabin pressure mixed with mental patient is quite the combination. When I close my eyes the plane is spinning. Drunk spins, these are the worst. I can puke on the woman next to me or I can try to get some sleep. I think I’ll try the latter. What’s the worst that can happen? I don't even understand why we're supposed to be interested in this guy. He's supposedly super important in Lucifer's plans and has some special thing about him and his cock, but he's just a lame junkie with delusions of brilliance. He's the guy you make fun of behind his back after he keeps showing up at the bar and trying to neg women. quote:The landing gear is coming down. Thank gently caress. Ooo, fancy. Doesn't even buy a Bic. quote:Flight. Check. Drunk. Check. Landed safely. Check? Now I’m pressing the filter of a brand new Marlboro Gold firmly between my lips and taking a drag. Protracted, smooth, the intimacy. I am instantly relieved and the sideways stance I’ve carried around since my landing is starting to straighten out. Nope. I’m heaving next to the trashcan. Vomiting. Nothing but class. Our hero. quote:I see that the woman next to me is taking a few steps back clutching her handbag tighter. I don’t blame her. I’m a malfunctioning American standing around outside terminal three at London Heathrow talking to himself. I would walk away frightened as well. I finish my smoke and head over to hail a cab. I’ve never been here before and although I know it’s an English speaking country, I can barely understand a loving word of what this guy is trying to tell me. Don't be racist toward the Brits, that's all they have now that Brexit is a thing! quote:I pull out the notebook and remember scrawled on one of the pages is the address to a hotel I am supposed to stay at.  Presumably a hotel Francis stayed in during his many trips to London. As far as I can see, it's a completely normal hotel without any particular pedigree beyond being fairly central. quote:That cockney accent is a lot harder to decipher than I had imagined from watching all of those Guy Ritchie films. Hollywood. What a jip. We lurch out into the traffic, herds of red double decker buses and black cabs that litter the airport roundabout like flies buzzing around a dead body are coming and going. Everybody has a life. Everybody has a place to be, and everyone is in such a loving hurry. The drive into the city is uneventful, there are a few times that I feel the squeeze of nausea coming on, but I battle the sick back down and make it through the entire ride without puking. I am a champ sometimes. Oh come off it. Now you're the guy who talks about how 1984 was a prediction of the future? If Will was any more cliche, he'd have a trilby to pair with his stupid outfit. quote:The bellhop, do they call them bellhops here? I can’t even deal with this. A guy in a monkey outfit and tiny hat steps from behind the kiosk out front and asks if I need help with my luggage. I look at him sideways and return the question with a question. People hate that. Yeah, this is some Fear and Loathing poo poo where every random person the protagonist sees is a barely-human sack of poo poo for us to mock. That book was written such because Hunter S. Thompson was on a fuckton of drugs at the time and wrote in a way that exaggerated virtually everything he could. This is just a lame copy. quote:I’m sure he is truly impressed that I am still standing. That bumpy cab ride didn’t help my weakened equipoise. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=uOmtVFQ3WF8 Seriously. I've read this before and it was a lot better then. quote:Soft glow in warm light, a picturesque chandelier overhead and I notice that I am stationary. Not driving or flying or falling or crying, just standing, well leaning actually on the desk of the night clerk that is checking me in. I made it. J’arrive. I have arrived. Because everyone is just so much worse than you, right? Every stereotype is true and you're the only complex person in this world? quote:“Just a few days my friend.” I toss him a wad of hundred pound notes and he hands me the key to my room. I don’t think I’ll last a few hours. Ha, I loving knew he was ripping off Thompson. The problem is that Thompson actually understood how to use his vocabulary without just using a thesaurus to swap words out for fancier ones. quote:Looking out of the window I see a city wrapped in a gloomy desperation. There are no clouds, just a gray sky and now the sun is coming up. There’s filth and mud and busses and taxis and drunkards. Smoke stacks that used to be cleaned by eight-year-old chimney sweeps in the nineteenth century. Businesses and row houses, theatres and tube stations that have evolved, burned down or changed owners over the centuries. Time is a malicious demon; it can be the ugliest of all realities. I can see the famous Oxford Street intersecting with Tottenham Court road and I imagine Oscar Wilde in a hansom being pulled by an expensive black quarter horse, turning south and heading into Soho for a drink with Bosie sitting by his side laughing and chatting about the terrible play they just saw in the West End. They are captivated by one another, stimulated and spellbound, falling through the stages of a love that dare not speak its name. All the books I’ve read and all the history that envelops this city is overwhelming and I do believe that this will be the perfect jumping off place. I might as well lay my bones in a coliseum of legends. Nameless. Obscure. He's not even interesting in how he romanticizes London. There's nothing unique anymore about talking about how much you love Oscar Wilde and having an image of Victorian London with black horse-drawn carriages and kids with Cockney accents who call you "guvna". It's a completely generic, conformist way to make yourself seem cool and cultured. It's like the kid who wants to be a punk so he dyes his hair and wears a spiked jacket so he can look like his heroes and friends while talking about how he's totally independent and marches to his own drum. This whole book is cosplaying being cool by poorly imitating its predecessors. quote:Passing out now. chitoryu12 fucked around with this message at 15:09 on Mar 11, 2020 |
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Mar 11, 2020 15:06
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You say this guy would be negging all the women at the bar but he just keeps dunking on himself again and again.
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Mar 11, 2020 22:14
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Chapter Twoquote:Awakened by a knock. gently caress, I’m still wearing my clothes. I stumble to the door only slightly drunk and gaze half-cocked through the peephole. Slack-jacked. Insane. A slender woman stands on the other side of this wooden gateway between the living world and the expiring mess that I’ve become. Not standing actually, rocking back and forth on one of her heels, looking directly into the peephole that I am peering out of. I shudder and open the door; her shoulder checks mine as she passes. I'm not sure "slack-jacked" is an actual phrase. quote:“Get in here and sit down.” She commands with a thick yet proper London accent. She spins around and sets her bag on the couch in the living room. I hope you like a rotating cast of hot girls, none of whom are really distinguishable from each other except by appearance. quote:“You can assume anything you want my dear. The wreckage I’ve become may not be salvageable. I’m not sure if the most gifted architect could put me back together. Humpty Dumpty has a better chance of revival.” So she looks like...a normal pretty girl? quote:“What in the actual gently caress am I going to do with you?” Yes, we've established this. Please just write a compelling protagonist instead of this loser. quote:She explains that I look like poo poo and am going to need a shower, a hot meal and some new clothes. None of which I argue against. I ask her if she has anything I can take for the grinding headache I have and she simply walks over to the bar, opens a cabinet, pulls out a glass and pours me a whisky. Four generous fingers, neat. I slam it without enquiry. I didn’t realize this room had a bar. Idiot. I am beginning to feel the warmth of the poison flowing down my throat and into my circulation. I loosen up and actually manage to smile, sort of. I’ve always been so awkward around women, my whole life, especially beautiful ones. I always buckle under the pressure of conversation and they leave knowing just how much of a weirdo I really am. Curse of the Irish, or something. The atmosphere in this room is lightening up. I explain how I got here, the accident, Lucifer, coming back from Hell, meeting Hope, fighting my own personal demons and pulling up to the hotel this morning still hosed up from the plane ride. I can see sympathy rolling off the end of her glance and for a second I think she may have fallen in love with me. No. Probably not. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xDi4LYCuhBQ quote:She grabs the notebook from the countertop where I left it as I entered this lonely room just a few hours ago and flips quickly through to an entry marked:  At the time this book was written, that address was home to Market Towers, a set of 1975 office buildings. Between 2014 and 2015 they were demolished to begin construction of One Nine Elms, a mixed use modern skyscraper complex. quote:“I will be escorting you to this event tonight. They have a dress code and will not let you in looking the way you do. We will need to sort you out something proper.” She explains coolly. Her language is so beautiful I might have a heart attack. I’ve always been in love with English, with the written word. The vibrant and illustrious way in which letters can paint powerful sounds of color with audible ingestion. It’s better than music, better in most cases, than sex. And unfortunately he treats both with the same level of care for the other participants. quote:“What sort of event is this?” I ask half terrified of what I may or may not have in store for me. Judi Dench could break this man's neck with her thumb. quote:She certainly is. I must excuse myself to the bathroom lest she discover the swelling in the outline of my trousers. What a weakling I have become. If I were a color, it would be a rosy shade of pink. The color of pussy. The hue of fragility. I shout through the door that I am going to take a shower and she replies with “Take your time my love.” Yes, because women are just fragile weaklings! It's only men and their cocks who can take charge in this world! Does it surprise you that the author uses "SJW" and "soyboy" as insults? quote:Undressing is easy. The clothes fall off my skeletal frame like autumn leaves from cancerous branches of dying trees in a slow wind. My ribs are visible. Stomach sucked in, muscle-less, and my pelvis bones protrude like animals trying to escape a rotting cage. The stubble on my face is black and my eyes are soulless. gently caress. I am a wreck. I can hear M’s voice through the door, she is speaking to someone in a low tone and with the ringing in my ears it’s hard to make out what she is saying, but I can tell it’s a foreign language. If you look closely, you'll notice part of "I am a wreck" is unitalicized. That's true to the text, which seems to be yet another error in his typing. quote:I listen harder… Those bounders! quote:The water is hot but the pressure of the showerhead leaves something to be desired. I suppose that’s what happens when you invent plumbing after a hotel is already built. I soap up with Imperial Leather, the irony fitting. A creature with imperialistic definitions I am not. The pissing showerhead makes it difficult to wash the soap away but I manage to get it done somehow. Stepping out, I notice that there is a comb on the countertop which I use to run through the tangled mess of my greasy hair and feel somewhat put together again. This is the writing of someone who thought about this for the very first time and has decided they're a genius now. quote:I come out of the steaming bathroom and M is lying on the bed with nothing but her heels on. Her back up against the headboard and legs spread, knees up, heels digging into the sheets. The red soles of her expensive Louboutins are in contrast to the stark white linin she is lying on. Her pubic hair is shaved. Her snatch is picturesque. I am hard again, and she can see it this time. Would you people just slow down? quote:This isn’t the first time she has said that. The words came out like an actress reciting lines from a play that she has performed countless times before. I cannot think of a reply and stroll over to the bed and crawl up between her legs. I can already taste those velvet lips on my lips and perhaps this is exactly what I need to eat for breakfast. gently caress eggs and bacon. This thread is now fully formed as the polar opposite of my James Bond one. quote:“Eat,” she says. “Enjoy.” This dude has such a violence fetish that he literally can't get hard if he's not hurting people. It's so crucial to his image that he even refers to himself by what he wants to do to people. quote:“It’s okay darling. We will find someone tonight to enact all the delicious pleasures of the flesh that life has to offer. I am sure of it.” She acts indifferently, as if she has just changed her outfit for the day. In other words, your value is based on your ability to dominate. Will can only be worthwhile if he's the biggest swinging dick in the room. quote:She dresses quickly and explains that two different people are going to stop by the room in the next few hours for what she calls, “Outfitting”. I'm sure all of you are going to love them when they show up. quote:“Okay, I guess you know what you’re doing.” I reply foolishly. chitoryu12 fucked around with this message at 14:07 on Mar 13, 2020 |
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Mar 12, 2020 14:23
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chitoryu12 posted:“Of course I do my dear. Trust. I am a professional.” Wow, you predicted she had a job? How loving insightful. Or do you mean that she is a member of the legal, medical, or clerical professions? Or that you/your author thinks it's somehow shocking that you're not some rando that Hope pointed in your direction and just decided to gently caress you and dress you for no apparent reason? quote:I don’t know anything about this broad. Should I trust anything that comes out of her mouth? It doesn't matter because I've seen sea sponges with more agency than this character. Say what you want about Bond being a lovely secret agent, but he did stuff. He was proactive and made the villains react, he moved the plot forward. I really don't want to exaggerate, but I feel what we've read so far could help fulfill a diagnosis of NPD. It's not just that the self-insert is somehow compelling to a parade of hot but completely personally-less women who want to gently caress him immediately upon entering his life; or that his lame "gently caress you, dad" to St. Peter is the so rebellious Lucifer himself thinks he's a righteous dude, it's the author thinks that this is somehow an interesting and thoughtful narrative to people besides himself.
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Mar 12, 2020 18:50
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Dr. Sneer Gory posted:I really don't want to exaggerate, but I feel what we've read so far could help fulfill a diagnosis of NPD. It's not just that the self-insert is somehow compelling to a parade of hot but completely personally-less women who want to gently caress him immediately upon entering his life; or that his lame "gently caress you, dad" to St. Peter is the so rebellious Lucifer himself thinks he's a righteous dude, it's the author thinks that this is somehow an interesting and thoughtful narrative to people besides himself. While her social media was removed, Lindsay Francis (his now ex-wife) made a lot of statements that I saw while this was going on and small portions were archived online. Initially she totally discounted the accusers' claims, but as the weeks went on she reversed her position and apologized for doubting them while accusing Will of being a sociopath. This eventually led her to getting a restraining order against him. It sounds to me like he's an absolutely hosed up person who dropped any pretenses of not being one when he realized that she wouldn't believe him.  Multiple victims claimed that he not only forced them to sign contracts as his subs, but made them recite a prayer to him: quote:I am my Master’s whore. There will never be another with whom I give my affection, trust, lips or touch. My Master commands and defines me, for without him I am nothing. Without him I am lost. I will follow and serve him all of my days, My only purpose in this life is providing pleasure and purpose for my Lord and Saviour in any form that he desires, be it lust, be it pain, be it suffering in the rain. I will oblige my Master always. I will put my faith and absolute trust into his charge and allow him to guide and direct me all of my days. Forever and always I am my Master’s whore. One of them provided the contract:     Others provided text messages:     Even if he somehow never broke the law once, this man is horrific and dangerous. If his reputation can be permanently hosed up by this, all the better. chitoryu12 fucked around with this message at 19:12 on Mar 12, 2020 |
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Mar 12, 2020 19:10
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I'm stunned by just how pathetic this guy is. I mean he's a dangerous abuser who should be stopped, but he's also just - despicable. Contemptible. Repulsive. Is he trying to seem charismatic? It's not working.
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Mar 12, 2020 19:19
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HopperUK posted:I'm stunned by just how pathetic this guy is. I mean he's a dangerous abuser who should be stopped, but he's also just - despicable. Contemptible. Repulsive. Is he trying to seem charismatic? It's not working. Having seen him in person several times, he's very charismatic on stage. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=wPPa4TMagwQ When he's off the stage, you suddenly realize that he's actually a skinny 5'7 guy with a nasally voice who smells of cigarettes and doesn't smile as much as he probably should. When he can't physically place himself above you and do his mic twirling and baritone singing, he immediately becomes the limp poser you can see in his videos talking about his victims. He only earns the obsessive adoration he does from legions of damaged young women who can be easily manipulated by him.
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Mar 12, 2020 19:39
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chitoryu12 posted:Multiple victims claimed that he not only forced them to sign contracts as his subs, but made them recite a prayer to him:  Oh god, reading that poo poo made me feel physically ill. Ugh. I'm in a kinky relationship, and the thought of someone treating my partner like that is just. Horrifying. What a vile, awful creature. I hope I never meet him, because I'm not sure I could live with myself if I didn't physically assault him.
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Mar 13, 2020 12:24
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Chapter 3quote:Where have I been? The dreary dregs of society couldn’t catch me in a crowded supermarket. The shell of a man, cracked and broken, exposed to the danger of his own skin, drowning in a poisonous ocean of his own assembly. Where am I headed? Into the afterglow of an atomic explosion built for Iron Age believers, injected into the veins of a population so thick the sharpest knives on earth couldn’t slice through them. I am a wondering and worried silly bully without a victim, a poo poo stain on the pants of my own disguise. I’m walking into a bar of crowed strangers that speak English and yet I can’t understand a single loving one of them. There is a place for an idiot like me and it’s at the bottom of the river Thames. "A poo poo stain on the pants of my own disguise"? If I didn't know better I'd say he was writing this drunk. quote:I skip breakfast and substitute the bacon with the eggs for coffee and cigarettes. Who needs food anyway when you’ve got a crippling case of anxiety and a thirst that could never be satisfied with orange juice and vodka. Sitting outside on the terrace under an umbrella smoking and drinking, I begin people-watching but get bored easily and people are weird. Perhaps I am the weird one, a visibly tainted and shaking corpse waiting to crash. Nobody bothers me and that is my reward. Leave me alone. All positions filled, not taking applications at this time. Jesus loving Christ I am jolly. Jolly ol’ St Nick and it’s Christmas in hell again. I shudder at the thought. What even makes this guy so different from a random junkie that Satan has to personally select him for a quest? There's nothing interesting or special about him except the book telling us he is. quote:I get up and leave the waitress a couple of coins for a tip, I am not familiar with the money here and don’t know how much it is. Blame it on stupidity or lack of examination. I walk through the lobby and towards the elevator and notice that a man in a dark blue pinstriped suit is following me closer than I would like him to be. He steps into the elevator behind me and presses the button for the seventeenth floor. I stand on the wall and notice the top buttons of his black shirt are undone and that the undershirt is made of shiny latex. He has an even darker silk cravat wrapped around his neck and a leather collar just visible enough to catch a glimpse of if your skills of investigation are amped up by nicotine and caffeine consumption. His blazer is undone and matches his trousers perfectly. His cheeks are pockmarked and there’s a tiny black mustache that looks drawn on by marker just above his upper lip. John Waters would be proud. He is carrying a rather large brown trunk with leather straps and metal buckles. It looks heavy. I let him out first and follow him down the hall to the door of room 1789. Just as he begins to knock I ask him to “allow me.” I pull the key card from my pocket and let us both in. Just wearing fetish gear under his suit? That can't be comfortable. quote:“Well, well.” He says, strutting in like drag queen making an entrance to his debut performance at Carnegie Hall. Neither do I! This is an incoherent mess! quote:“If I’m cute, you must be on drugs. And if you’re on drugs I want whatever they are.” I'm reading all of this in Tim Curry's voice as Dr. Frank-N-Furter. quote:I remove my soiled button down shirt, my sullied socks and shoes. Ugh, the smell of my sweaty feet is gruesome. I go to the window and toss the socks out onto the street below. I don’t care who or what they hit, just get them away from my face. Wow, the first act of violence not to get him hard! quote:“Take your trousers off baby, I need to get some measurements,” Eddy the tailor says. I'm pretty confident a British person would know the word "underwear", especially if they're a professional tailor. quote:“That’s okay it’s certainly nothing I haven’t seen before,” he spits back. I have never once considered latex "sinister." quote:He’s chatting to me about his aunt who has just been diagnosed with cancer and the havoc it is wreaking on his family. I change the subject because this one is too heavy. I ask how he met M and if he knows Hope. He pulls out some coke and we blast lines of this stuff like the end of the world is coming and now I am starting to come alive. This stuff is pure, hard, and burns the back of my throat before it numbs. Brilliant. I change outfits while he watches and I think he has an erection but I ignore it and get him to dump more coke on the table for my own selfish consumption. We laugh and he tells me about the time his boyfriend’s dick got stuck in the zipper of a rubber body suit and I feel the pain within my own groin. Drugs are funny. They allow the user to establish a rapport with a complete stranger as long as the substance they both abuse is being supplied in bountiful quantities. Maybe politicians need to do more drugs together. I’m laughing now and I can’t remember the last time that happened. I’m fitted with a black Ted Baker suit, the trousers are tight and he explains that he wants to see the outline of my lovely “cut cock”. I guess they don’t have that in Britain. Strange. He sews some buttons in the waist of my new trousers so I can wear suspenders instead of a belt. I hate belts I tell him. He obliges me. In my new collection is also a vinyl shirt to wear underneath my white button down. He explains that they will let me into the club tonight provided I have this on underneath. I don’t understand why but I am buzzing and I don’t really give a poo poo. My teeth are grinding. The outside world is spinning around us. I can hear bats in the distance. A telltale sign that the cocaine is good, really loving good. Superheroes are just regular guys with weird fetishes that use high-end cocaine. I pour us both a drink from the bar hidden within the cabinet and we sit for a few minutes in silence smoking a cigarette. A calm of eerie violence pulses throughout my skull and I just might vomit again if I’m not careful. There is no airflow in the room. Only tobacco smoke floating heavily around us like lonely ghosts whispering softly into the furniture. I can't even find anything interesting to say here. It's just so dull and flavorless. It promises cocaine but gives you baby powder. quote:“Mistress M filled me in on the tragedy you have endured and I wanted to offer my condolences. I know that we only just met but I hope you’re able to find exactly what it is that you’re searching for.” His kindness is incredible and for a second I think I may begin to cry. But I hold back the tears and collect myself before replying with, The weird line break there is faithful to the text formatting. quote:His look of compassion has been replaced with confusion and I quickly lean down to snort another line, burn god dammit. My whole face is numb now. Is that two question marks? quote:“That’s the notebook that Hope gave me, why?” https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=tQAMbA40qX8 Well, that was abrupt! It's like reading a creepypasta. quote:Our exchange is interrupted by another knock on the door. Before I can get anything else out of him two different people enter and he finishes packing up quickly then rushes out of there as if his jaw was on fire. I am slightly alarmed but the coke hasn’t worn off and the bravery it instills in me is tremendous. What do I care anyways? Didn’t Lucifer say I had the golden ticket to ride? How can I be damned? I can barely feel my face. gently caress it. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=cm0evQaHlE4 quote:“I am Zorkin, this is pet Petunia,” The man in the vinyl dress and cape says. He must be Russian, or from somewhere cold. The accent is brutish and heavy. His face is square and his shoulders are massive. He looks like a gothic pro wrestler from the eighties. I really hope Francis is basing these people off real ones, because they're such ridiculous creations that I take the book less seriously with every one who appears. quote:“I have tools for you. Sent from M. You will pay me cash? No?” This is the weirdest appearance of Q Branch I've ever seen. quote:He stares at me blankly and motions his pet to go and kneel over the bed. She obeys in silence, walks over, lifts her tiny skirt up and displays her rear end in an impressive act of compliance. Garter belt attached to vinyl thigh-high stockings, no panties. He didn’t even have to say anything. That’s control and I am impressed. He is carrying a black leather medical bag as if he is a doctor. Some perverted doctor from the island of dorky goth. Some of these people are hilarious. You always find them in the strangest places. Vivienne and I would run into them in the Chelsea club all the time. The lawyer who dons the diaper on the weekend and plays little piggy for the fat mistress that won’t let him gently caress her because he’s a big baby. The stay-at-home husband who pretends he is the master of his own universe, only to return home Monday morning to the dirty dishes and a floor that needs cleaning. The schoolteacher that is so fed up with her students that she finds a lonely guy in the corner to play the role of the student so that she can teach him a lesson that no one else can teach, whacking his feet with a riding crop, shouting obscenities and instructing him to scream out the correct answer to complex math equations. The cast is there on the weekends playing make believe. But then you have the twenty-four-seven subdivision of actors in this play. These are the ones that never end the game and when the dirty lights flick on at the club they simply walk out into the morning daylight in their costumes and to them it’s normality. It’s an ongoing game of daddy knows best, and these are the characters who fascinate me the most. I have been unfortunate enough to be in the home of a couple like this, thanks to my ex's connections with the scene. It was very uncomfortable being around them. quote:He pulls out a ball gag, length of rope and struts over to the bed. Grabbing a fistful of Petunia’s hair he stands her up, binds her wrists behind her back, gags her mouth with the leather strap and red ball and bends her back over. It’s so quick I hardly notice the motion of what he did. He walks back over and pulls out a whip. It looks mean. Notice how we aren't even told what Petunia looks like, even less than Zorkin. She embodies the "sexy lamp" type of inconsequential female character in the most literal sense, being a fetish prop rather than a human being. quote:He walks over and cracks the whip across her right rear end cheek and instantly there is blood. If you ever meet a guy who gets a massive, visible erection when he sees or commits violence, stay far away. quote:“You like this? I can see that you like this.” He’s pointing at my crotch and I turn away. "Forcers". quote:“Now pull out cock and let her do job,” he instructs of me. Is this just what they do? They go to a restaurant and he sends her to a table to suck a dude's dick as a way of saying hello? quote:I look down and she is smiling. The red stains on the floor have made my blood boil and I cannot deny her. Weakness of the flesh, I suffer thee. I feel bad for housekeeping. quote:“Okay but maybe, could you go into the other room?” I can't tell what I'm meant to feel here. Is it funny? Is it erotic? Is it creepy? quote:Goddamn this is loving weird. I pull my gear out and she wolfs it down like a starving victim of the Holocaust eating a bread roll for the first time in four years. Her hands are tied behind her back but it makes no difference. Sucking and spitting, she licks my shaft and balls and caresses the head with her tongue like it’s the last cock she is ever going to suck. I’m floating, high as gently caress and I come quickly. Made more impressive because I really should be exhibiting signs of erectile dysfunction. She doesn’t spill a drop and when she’s finished she looks up at me with a guise of satisfaction she hasn’t felt in a long time. I'm going to go with "stupid." How is this the second loving time he's referenced the Holocaust when getting horny? quote:“You keep bag. You give me one thousand pound.” Fetish gear is unusually expensive in real life. quote:Locked. Secured. Alone. Relief. Not that he needed all that for the trip, but once you get locked into a serious drug collection, the tendency is to push it as far as you can. quote:Destruction awaits us all in the bottom of a dirty spoon, in the plunge of a draining syringe, in the desperation of a dying man. Substance abuse and feigning smiles will drag us down into the depths of our own disguise and this is my mask, my sanity, my chapter of obliteration. All I need is the sunrise of courage to shine her glorious light down across my bones and there I go. Falling forever in a ubiquitous bliss that will never end, never falter, never cast shadows on the weight of my mistakes. I can see the light of Hell arising all around me and gently caress you Lucifer for giving me one last chance. gently caress you for thinking I could clench this reality and give you what you desire. Love? gently caress you for thinking I could love. I don’t believe in god like you believe in me and I don’t believe I can love, not the way you want me to. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=MTaMxx2zBpU
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Mar 13, 2020 15:33
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William Francis posted:I pull out the rope, a leather mask with eye holes and a zipper for the mouth, the red gag, that nasty rubber whip, vinyl tape, a crop and two stainless steel spreader bars with leather cuffs on each end. I’m not even sure I know how to work these things. Which... which ones confuse you?Can you not put on a wristwatch or something?
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Mar 13, 2020 16:10
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A quick wiki tells me that these "books" were published in 2013, 14, 16, which is wild given that nothing actually happens yet his fans had to wait years between novels. It also kind of suggests that it actually wasn't written all in one go, which is wild. Then again, the way part 2 just kind of starts without filling the reader in on anything means now I don't know what to think.
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Mar 13, 2020 19:20
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Mordja posted:A quick wiki tells me that these "books" were published in 2013, 14, 16, which is wild given that nothing actually happens yet his fans had to wait years between novels. It also kind of suggests that it actually wasn't written all in one go, which is wild. Then again, the way part 2 just kind of starts without filling the reader in on anything means now I don't know what to think. It's also very clearly "one book". Each part is very short and the total comes to less than 300 pages all about the same story. How the hell do you spend 3 years writing this?
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Mar 13, 2020 19:23
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chitoryu12 posted:I have never once considered latex "sinister." For some reason I have a feeling he means black and is too busy being self-impressed to know he's got the wrong word.
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Mar 14, 2020 04:07
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Of course Will I Am Control is a findom because that’s the funniest poo poo.
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Mar 14, 2020 04:43
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xthetenth posted:For some reason I have a feeling he means black and is too busy being self-impressed to know he's got the wrong word. I don't think it's the worst association. It's provocative and often people who wear latex are often coded as evil or otherwise amoral characters in entertainment. Sinister is as good a word as any.
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Mar 14, 2020 07:32
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Oh, I spotted a mistake I didn't even notice before! The "American Tourist" luggage brand Will is using is actually American Tourister.
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Mar 15, 2020 02:21
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I mean, if you're looking for mistakes how about "children with leukemia and other forms of infectious disease" 
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Mar 15, 2020 07:13
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It's really an accomplishment just how much he manages to gently caress up in such a short timespan.
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Mar 15, 2020 18:17
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Chapter 4quote:Page 57 This is taken directly from his song "The Filth and the Fetish". quote:There are passages, sonnets, behavioral annotations, and directions to seedy places that were scribbled by a madman or madmen who were clearly out of their minds. Almost every page of this notebook is barely legible. The ink smeared with tears and regret. Can you suffer like I do? You have no loving idea pal. I am smoking cigarettes down to their filters and the cloudy air in this room is filth. I stand up and walk to the window to open it. Seventeen stories up, the fall would surely kill me. Can I end this now? Have I gotten what I needed out of this adventure already? Blowjob? Check. New clothes? Check. Cocaine and heroin? Check and check. Besides morality, my own compassion, and a sense of self-worth, what is missing? A decent plot? A proofreader? Consent? quote:I stand beside the window, beneath the cold, grey British noon sky and contemplate the mountain of loss I have endured, the hurt I’ve caused, the sickness I have been encumbered with, and the desire to erase my existence forever. “The revolution will be complete when the language is perfect.” Syme delivers this line to Winston Smith as casually as saying hello. Of course he was referring to English being transformed into Newspeak, and my interpretation is a little askew. The revolution will be complete after I’ve drained the dregs of society with my cock and syringe, eaten Vicodin like candy, and swallowed a thousand gallons of rum without drowning. That is yet another reference to a much better book. quote:Where the gently caress did I leave that dope? I rifle through the medical bag and find what I’m looking for stuffed down in the bottom. I find the kit, rubber balloons packed with little dime-sized gumdrops of dope, syringes, a tourniquet, and fresh alcohol swabs. I’m humming “Neat Neat Neat” to myself. Dave Vanian would be pleased. I bite the tip off one of the balloons and am hit with the pungent odor of black tar heroin. It’s alluring and gross, like pussy that smells of vinegar. The last time I did this was before I met Vivienne. I was in a rat-infested basement with some absolute waster and his hooker girlfriend that I had met on the street, in the middle of the night, during a coke binge. What a classy pair they were. He was in his mid-forties and she was twenty-three, although you would have guessed she was closer to fifty by the way her shoulders sagged and mouth lacked… teeth. What is it with this dude and the smell of pussy? quote:I grab a metal spoon from the kitchenette near the bathroom and bend it slightly, so it sticks out horizontally between my index and thumb. I remember how to do this perfectly, like riding a bike, or a fat girl. I need a glass of water, some matches, and a piece of my cigarette filter. I break off a dime-sized chunk of the tar and stick it in the middle of the spoon. The syringes are measured in 100cc units. I pull water until the plunger hits 75cc’s and squirt the dope slowly. I can barely hold this spoon steady. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_f1cNxLAC-g quote:In lieu of holding it myself, I grab a bible out of the drawer next to the bed and anchor the spoon so that it hangs off the dresser. The Gideons. What a useful bunch of guys. Steady — that’s better. Bibles can be useful with practical application. "Heh, I moved all the Bibles to the Fiction section at the book store. Pretty radical, right?" quote:Removing the plunger from the syringe to use as a stirring stick, I light a couple of matches and hold them underneath the metal and begin to cook the tar/water. I stir it slowly. The smell of dope cooking is something you never forget, noxious and greedy, putrid, beautiful. It’s ritualistic. It’s tranquil. Heroin’s chemical compound breaks down with heat, water, and a gentle push, until the sticky tar becomes a dirty brown liquid. I ball up a tiny piece of an unused cigarette filter and throw it in the spoon, then stick the plunger back in the syringe and place the needle right in the middle of the little cotton ball, so as to filter any debris that I don’t want traveling into my vein. Not that I care really. Some of the water has burned off and I pull 55cc’s of heavy brown salvation up into the tube. My shirt is already off and my next move is to apply the rubber tourniquet around my bicep just above the ditch of my forearm. A couple of fist pumps later my vein is bulging like an erection in tight jeans. Blood and tissue. Veins and guts. A syringe full of redemption and I’m ready for this. This is the only part of the book where he doesn't seem to be loving anything up, as he actually has intimate knowledge of the use of heroin. quote:The needle slides in painlessly, like pressing a toothpick into soft butter. My right hand is steady now, my fingers are under pressure to perform with precision and I’ll be damned if I falter at this point. Instantly I remember that I am damned. I sing for the damned, the soulless, hand in hand. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1--AXkc32qM I accidentally used "Damned" earlier in this thread and now he's directly quoting the lyrics. You can have the 2019 remaster instead. It's such a lovely mix. quote:Focus. What does it say about you when, despite claiming to write so much from your own experiences, the only part that you can write well about is the drug use? quote:I pull the needle out and untie the tourniquet just as the path to enlightenment and entanglement hits my palpitating heart in such a way that I start floating and sinking in the same breath. The smell of roses, the taste of fresh honey, the immensity of living among the dead is lifted and my face is starting to itch. I rub my eyes until they are blurry and want to scratch myself until I bleed to death. Everything is colorless and imaginary, everything is gone. There is no Lucifer, there is no William, no life, no death and certainly no Hope. The benefit of this drug is glorious and the effects it produces are coursing through my molecules by the nanosecond. Warmth. Every limb heats up. Every strand of fabric loosens, every worry disappears. Falling away from the confines of humanity, falling away from the friction of living. Falling away and forgetting about the knots in my spine. A passenger riding on an old, rotten train. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=aD-CbVHXCHU quote:Suddenly retching into the sink. I forgot about this bit. The wonderful rush of an endless lovable story is smashed to pieces when the nausea seems to crawl out of nowhere and strangle you with everything it’s made of. My insides are awash with angry warlords that tap dance and shoot canons while sailing ships of explosives in violent storms off the coast of Antigua during hurricane season. Vomit. poo poo. Vomit. Okay after that "angry warlords" line I take back anything positive I said about his writing on heroin. quote:I am weathering the storm and the water is calming down. I collapse down onto my knees. I am going to stay here, no I’m going to leave. Don’t forget me when I’m gone. If you want a better view on heroin usage, I would read Slash and Duff McKagen's autobiographies on their time with Guns n' Roses. They get more into the reality of dealing with being a "functional addict" on heroin, which is a lot more complex than the simple smackhead unable to even function except for getting a hit, as well as the horrific process of getting off it. quote:Reaction.
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Mar 15, 2020 18:36
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1 oz = 29.57something cc, so that's a drat big spoon. Insulin syringes hold about ONE cc. A shot glass holds about 1.5 oz or 50cc. His 100cc insulin syringe would be huge, about 3.3 oz for Americans. Not quite a half cup. e: broken math broke my grammar. GoodyTwoShoes fucked around with this message at 21:03 on Mar 15, 2020 |
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Mar 15, 2020 20:35
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Chapter 5quote:Struggling to breathe, I’m shaken awake by greasy water that is invading my lungs. Convulsing wildly, drowning. I panic. I fight for a grip on something, anything, and I can feel a strong hand gripping the back of my neck. Bits of muffin and black bile mixed with coffee are swirling around me. I can feel them rattling around in my lungs. I’m pulled out and hear a voice, Did this dude even brush his teeth? He showered, but... quote:“Who the gently caress do you think you are?” I ask, still trying to catch the oxygen from the room around me. Azael, or Azazel, is one of the fallen angels. In Judaism he provided humanity with forbidden knowledge like weapons, witchcraft, and...cosmetics. They had some really specific wickedness back then. There's also some connection to the Jewish scapegoat sacrifice, possibly translated as referring to the mountain cliff the goat would be cast down. Parallels to the scapegoat tradition in Leviticus 16 date as far back as 2500 BC on the Ebla tablets of Syria, while the use of Azazel as a fallen angel or demon has earliest been seen in the Dead Sea Scrolls. Will isn't being super creative here, so it's just "Hi, I'm a demon. I have a famous demon name. Rape your wife for me." quote:“Azael? What kind of loving name is that? And how did you get in here anyway?” He is the one who gripped you tight and raised you from Perdition? quote:“I… I cannot comprehend what you’re trying to tell me. Lucifer sent you?” Still trying to catch my breath. A lesser known side effect of a heroin overdose is losing your ability to use contractions when speaking. quote:“Well He didn’t really send me, I came of my own volition. You have to appreciate the fact that He is quite busy, honestly, who wouldn’t be? What with all the wars and evil and sin that your typical ‘every man’ is engaged in on a daily basis. The complexity of His realm is an enormous undertaking, and like any good CEO, He needs eyes and ears on the ground. He’s a big picture guy. You know people like that. You’ve read about them, met them, worked for them. I’m one of the good guys, William. I have seen the vision of the future and you are indeed His Revelator, and in order for this whole complex machine to evolve, you must remain traveling on the right path.” Oh God. He's a middle manager. quote:He is sitting on the edge of the bathtub, the electricity of his green eyes drowning me in a superfluous amount of envy, like a proud father that has just witnessed the birth of his own son. Except I’m just a gently caress up and he is actually from Hell. He is wearing a grey blazer that matches his trousers and a black button down shirt with the first three undone showing the skin of his neck and a scar that disappears down behind the fabric. He is handsome, Clark Gable handsome, but with a better hairline and whiter teeth. His face, rock solid, chiseled. His smile is camera-ready. He’s perhaps ten thousand years old but doesn’t look a day over forty. He snaps his fingers and we are both standing in the bedroom, I’m all cleaned up and dressed in new threads. Eddy the Tailor was great, these clothes fit perfectly. I’m going to puke again. Okay, again with the "blazer that matches the trousers." That's a suit, Will. Yes I know blazers often have metal buttons and can have a different cut, but that's not mandatory! I think he just doesn't know what the difference is between a suit, blazer, sport coat, etc. and is just picturing these guys wearing casual suits without ties. quote:“I’ve pulled you out of many places my son, many dire situations indeed. Remember that LSD overdose when you were fifteen? The episode that ended in a naked wrestling match with hospital orderlies, fighting and trying to flee the scene in a panic state, not even realizing that your arm was in a sling with severed tendons stapled together from slamming it through that plate glass window? I saved your rear end on that one. How about the first night you met Vivienne? With those goons chasing you? Remember that bullet going through your shoulder? That was me as well. A few inches in another direction and it would have severed one of the main arteries in your chest causing you to bleed out almost instantaneously. And let’s not forget the car accident that sent you flying through the windshield of that beautiful Lincoln Continental you owned. I ushered you safely up to Pete’s office. I have been there without your knowledge and consent for all these years.” Yeah, Will is used to being around without consent. quote:He’s grinning now. Actually yes, that's a really great question! He can teleport all over the place and watch people invisibly, affecting whether or not people live or die, transporting them between rooms and dimensions and changing their clothes instantly, but he has no supernatural way of communication and needs to use cell phones and emails? What kind of bullshit operation is Hell running here? Did they loving cut the telepathy funding for the quarter? quote:“Well then tell me about this machine, this transformation.” Thank God, someone brushed them for him. quote:“You’ve dealt with a myriad of terrible situations throughout your life; family upbringing, your sister’s murder, the drug addiction, the self-deprecation. You’ve wagered your soul on a contract of non-negotiation and have been granted this second chance at life so that He can find a love as deep and connected as you had found with Vivienne. And yet you’ve done nothing to further that commission. It’s been nearly four months since you were given this assignment and your 120 days of Sodom have had hardly any sodomy and even less love.” I think we've seen plenty already, thanks. quote:“Yeah well this task of loving and finding love seems to me a pointless undertaking and I have barely managed to get myself sober long enough to walk out of a hotel room. I can’t stand the idea that I am never going to see Vivienne again and I’ve fallen apart because of it. Nothing is doable. I am just… I’m completely hopeless.” Just like how you think you're a writer now! quote:“There’s a method in this madness and a balance that must be maintained. After the hundreds of thousands of years men have been walking around eating fish and breaking bread, and the millions upon billions of souls collected on either side He grows weary, He tires of not being able to feel that love that you felt within the core of his Angelic existence. He has commissioned you to change that by feeling, by loving and letting those emotions flourish.” He couldn't do that at any other time? With anyone less lame and pathetic? quote:“I told Him and I’ll tell you now, I am NOT the man to accomplish this. I can hardly wake up in the morning without the pain of regret swallowing me whole. Don’t you guys know whom you’re dealing with here? I have never been able to complete anything in my life, let alone something this… extravagant.” Literally nobody would use "whom" in a moment like this. This is not anything close to how people talk. quote:“Well then, let me give you some motivation,” he states coolly. Azael puts the Education field on his Facebook profile as "School of Hard Knocks." quote:We are standing over a grave simply marked, There are, you're just a poo poo writer. quote:Azael explains, “Let go of that hate. Let it saunter down an old wooden pier and jump off into the ocean never to be seen again. This man was not worth wasting a moment on and let me assure you that he definitely got what he deserved and will continue to receive that agony for all of eternity.” I can almost see the emo teen behind the gym salivating as he writes this in his notebook. quote:I am somewhat relieved yet the animosity I have felt for so many years is still boiling my blood red hot, coagulating my veins and constricting my breath. I step away from the grave, turn towards the heaven that I thought for so long was imaginary and mouth the words “gently caress You” to god. gently caress him for everything. gently caress everything for god. gently caress it all. We could put a lot on Will's gravestone, probably. quote:“You will have plenty of time to process this later, but for now we have to go.”
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Mar 16, 2020 18:22
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GoodyTwoShoes posted:1 oz = 29.57something cc, so that's a drat big spoon. Insulin syringes hold about ONE cc. A shot glass holds about 1.5 oz or 50cc. His 100cc insulin syringe would be huge, about 3.3 oz for Americans. Not quite a half cup. 1cc = 100 units, which insulin needles are divided into. For example, I inject 0.25cc testosterone twice a week as HRT. That's 25 units. And I use insulin syringes because they're great for subcutaneous injections.
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Mar 17, 2020 03:19
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chitoryu12 posted:Chapter 5 Just watched that scene again yesterday. I have no time for Supernatural after season five or so but man the introduction of angels is well done.
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Mar 17, 2020 05:01
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Lord Zedd-Repulsa posted:1cc = 100 units, which insulin needles are divided into. For example, I inject 0.25cc testosterone twice a week as HRT. That's 25 units. And I use insulin syringes because they're great for subcutaneous injections. Thank you. I dated a diabetic several years ago, and I knew I wasn't explaining it properly. Your post is much better.
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Mar 17, 2020 20:31
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Chapter 6quote:“This is a game, you know that, right?” https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=LkLGeFWLH4Y quote:“Yes I’ve heard this spiel before, from Him, from Hope, and now again from you.” My voice reflects the frustration I feel. So there's literally nothing special about him except that he was born as an emotional conduit for Satan himself. quote:I’m struck with clarity and a sense that I never got the whole truth from Lucifer. Or perhaps I was just too beside myself with grief to take it all in. Azael is sitting across the aisle and we are on a moving train somewhere in the bowels of the London Underground. Harsh light of fluorescent bulbs flickering overhead as we travel down the tracks, and the darkness of the tunnel around us is more ominous than anything I’ve ever seen. We are the only ones aboard and the brakes grind as we go into a turn… But...is that true? We just heard that Az was controlling whether or not Will succeeded in his fights or survived injuries. That sounds a lot more direct than "subtle hints." quote:“Yeah well I don’t give a gently caress about Lucifer’s feelings. I don’t give a poo poo about god’s plan. You boys should have just left me in that pile of burning metal and gone on your merry loving way.” I’m angry now. Thanks! I know normally writers will use the dialogue and actions to tell us of a character's emotions, but I understand that none of us are equal to your brilliance. Thank you for taking the precious time out of your day of chain-smoking and stealing money from teenage girls to inform us of your protagonist's emotions so plainly. quote:“You’re much too valuable to Him to let this gift you have just disappear. We’ve tried to understand your talent, the smartest minds in the underworld have been tasked with trying to harness that energy and transfer it to something sustainable but we’ve had no luck. If it cannot be controlled we will do whatever it takes to make it last as long as possible. No one on earth has been given an opportunity such as this, William. Not one single soul. Do you know how extraordinary that is? How remarkable? Do you even feel the slightest bit grateful?” Was he even happy when he was with Viv, though? He told us he was, but he didn't seem to do anything but gripe and bitch and moan and occasionally slap her around in public. quote:“You are not in Hell. In fact, you’ve still got that golden ticket to the other side sitting in your back pocket as we speak and unless you jump off a bridge or shoot too much dope AGAIN, there isn’t going to be a little cabin down by the lake of fire in your future.” I'm confused. Didn't he want to go to Hell? He was already told that suicide is the way there. Why is he going along with this plan in the first place? This plot actually made a lot more sense in its original Hate Culture album format, where William Control was just engaging in one last night of debauchery before suicide. As far as I can tell in this version, all he has to do is fling himself out the window and that's it. He had no reason to get this far. quote:I can see the gears in his head grinding like a mathematician working out a complicated equation. This guy has a loving video feed directly to hell on his iPhone? quote:I stand up and grab him by the throat and slam him to the ground, my eyes are blurred with tears and this is an anger I’ve never felt before. I want to take his life and this is how it’s going to happen. He struggles under the weight of my grip and gasps for air. His eyes are swelling and his breath smells rancid, decayed. We scuffle only for a moment. I see black wings come bursting out from behind him and he throws me up with ease, I smash the roof of the train car and come hurling back to the ground where we were struggling. With lightning agility he has picked me up by my neck and is holding me off the ground. Now I’m the one choking. His appearance has changed, Clark Gable has transformed into a proper demon. His face is a dark shade of crimson and purple with sharp teeth that overlap and jut out like razors. His green eyes have turned red and the grey suit he was wearing has turned black. So...if he doesn't do this stuff for Lucifer to live vicariously through him, they'll give Vivienne the Real Hell. But he didn't know this before! He had no reason not to just throw himself off the roof of the hospital immediately! quote:I see his phone lying under a seat. It must’ve gotten knocked out of his hands in the scuffle. I reach for it and look at the image displayed on the screen again, Vivienne is gone, the bed is empty. Go back to English class. quote:Azael has transformed back into the Clark Gable I first laid my eyes on earlier and he reaches down to pick me up. He embraces me like a long lost friend and I weep into his chest and his arms wrap tightly around me. Comfort in the limbs of a strange demon. I feel my purpose approaching the surface. Nah, he's just a mid-level executive. You're a stupid junkie with delusions of grandeur who likes getting rimmed. quote:“Your stop is the next one, don’t forget that we are always watching.” https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=iHw7CfKZ5-I At a certain point, this track will go silent for like 5 minutes. I highly recommend not listening further, as Will was charming enough to end his album with the infamous Ruth Price call, an audio recording of unknown veracity of an elderly woman being murdered while on a 911 call. Considering the plot of the album, it seems to imply that Will's last act before suicide was murder. quote:I step up the stairs two at a time towards the exit of the tube station and pop out on the street across from the theatre that is running a play about Freddie Mercury and his band of merry men. We Will Rock You. The St Giles is up the block on the right and the sky has turned black again.  We Will Rock You is a jukebox musical about a world where rock music is banned and everyone is conformist, like every single lovely jukebox musical idea someone gets. It was the longest running musical at the Dominion Theatre, going from 2002 to 2014. quote:I pass the bellhop I met when I arrived and he gives me a wink and look of approval, as if to say “Nice job cleaning up old boy”. He holds the door open for me as I go inside. The lobby looks different when you’re not plastered and dehydrated. It’s actually quite inviting. Warm Hollywood lighting makes you feel good upon reentry from the cynicism of the dark and chilly London streets. Back in the elevator, I am focusing on how to execute this Darwinian plan of survival. I’m going to need a drink. I’ll adapt and adjust to this new world. All I need to begin is three fingers of hard scotch. Maybe four. chitoryu12 fucked around with this message at 16:44 on Apr 2, 2020 |
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Mar 17, 2020 20:31
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Kind of surprised at the restraint we see when Will I Am Control doesn't talk about getting a half chub from imagining his dead girlfriend being gang raped in hell, that seems like the sort of thing that would really get his rocks off.
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Mar 17, 2020 21:37
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Chapter 7quote:“Well then, there you are,” M says with a sarcastic grin. No, this book is incapable of bringing joy to anyone at any point. quote:She glides over and hands me the drink. She smells so beautiful. Roses and lust. She touches my hand as she passes me the glass and I feel it, the charge of desire, the flux. "And then I titled my book 'Angel With the Scabbed Wings' and I hid it in my desk, but Johnny loving tipped it over and it came out and they started laughing at me when they read it, and that's why I hate my mom!" quote:But she is right and I know it. I have to get back on track. I must figure out a way to let go of the resentment that is eating away at my ability to feel something. Vivienne’s safety is depending on it. How are they reflecting things that aren't present here? quote:Walking down the hall to the elevator in silence I can feel the blood rushing towards my trousers and when we get into the elevator I am already rock hard. She looks up at me and says, “I can feel the pain of regret emanating from your bones as you stand there beside me. Trust that I will do whatever it takes to help guide you in the direction of truth and understanding. But you must listen and follow. You must be born aloft the scaffolds of true human emotion for this to work. Forgiveness is the key and acceptance of your situation will give you the strength to forgive.” Is "pain of regret" what the kids are calling it these days? quote:With those words I press her up against the mirror of the elevator and let my lips crush into hers. The touch, the taste of human connection is something that I so desperately miss and as she pulls me close I can feel her smiling. She knows my dick is full of blood and this makes her feel powerful. The elevator stops and she pulls me out by my collar and into the lobby. Some of these lines read like they're from a Chuck Tingle book. quote:“Go and get us a cab and wait out front for me.” She’s in full mistress mode now and I’m at the whim of her instructions. Oh, now you can be submissive to a woman? That was easier than expected! All she had to do was have a nice rear end! quote:I tell the bellhop out front that I am headed south of the river to Vauxhall to a place called Antichrist. He looks at me sideways and blows his whistle for the next car to pull up. I pull out a twenty-pound note, tip him, and thank him for not kicking me in the face when I showed up that morning in a drunken stupor. He explains that it happens all the time and not to worry about it. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=mGQv_TlayKg quote:“What are you smiling about?” M says after she gets in and sees the grin smacked across my face. You couldn't figure that out by yourself? quote:“Driver, take us to Vauxhall.” That's because most of the blood in your body is in your dick right now. quote:I open my eyes and there is Lucifer sitting right beside M in this cab we are travelling in. She doesn’t even notice. She’s busy texting someone and I don’t think she could see Him if she tried. His perfect blue eyes connect with mine and I feel his equanimity meet my own. There are no words, no sound. The futility I have been living in is being laid down to rest and the assurance of His glance is almost heartbreaking. Hushing. My eyes well up and He shakes His head slightly as if to say, “Don’t cry”. I pull it together and realize that He is the ultimate sadist. He is the truest definition of the word. He tortures with love and compassion, balance and tranquility, emotional pain and the threat of total destruction. He is an artist shooting the sunshine, all because of me. That nonsensical last line is yet another lyric from "Damned." quote:He motions with His eyes to glance out the window, slowly I turn my head and there, in the center of Trafalgar square as we pass, is a vision of Vivienne dancing in a red dress, the fabric of which is flowing. A beam of light transcending from the heavens is upon her and the grey bricks of this historical square seem to light up in bliss with each graceful step. She is magnificent. The closest I have ever been to perfection was in her embrace. With her all things were possible. I blink and she’s gone. I look back at Him for some sort of assurance. He smiles and I know she’s okay, he doesn’t say anything, I can just feel it. I blink again and He has vanished as quickly as He came. It must be great to have a "perfect" relationship where you don't really have to do anything but say you have one, no matter how miserable you are and how flat she is in her obsession with you. May as well have had a sex doll. quote:We pull up to the front of the club and I tip the driver for such a smooth ride. The slight wind on my face is cold and I feel my chest filling up with oxygen again. I don’t think I was breathing back there. As you would have noticed from my description of the address, this is not the location of an old textile factory. It's a mostly vacant set of 1970s office buildings. quote:Inside I can already taste humidity. The perspiration of skin wrapped in leather and latex. It permeates the air, and into my lungs. This is what walking into an old Roman bathhouse felt like. Anxiety. Straight ahead of us is a dance room, it’s dark, and I can only see the strobe of neon lights flickering to the beat of some hardcore industrial rock that is thrashing my insides, a screaming voice singing inaudibly to a crunchy beat and noisy guitars. What the gently caress is wrong with you are the only lyrics I can discern. There are people slithering in and out of this room through the shine of their own secretion. To the right we start up a staircase that leads to a second floor. This place is packed and I forgot about the rushing sense of excitement you feel when you first enter a club like this. On the landing of the second floor is a crowded bar. As we make our way through the crowd I notice a few different guys bow as M passes them. She’s a queen in this place and they are her minions. She doesn’t acknowledge their existence, which is hilarious to me. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=UXpKyJyuzKw The chance of a Roman having anxiety entering a bathhouse is probably slim to none. quote:“Oh my god you made it!’ It’s Eddy the Tailor screaming from down the bar and as he approaches I remember the nervousness he left the hotel room with earlier and still wonder what he was going on about. “Yes we did,” I say somewhat sarcastically as he comes in for a hug. Thank Azael for breaking his non-interference rule to magically brush your teeth! quote:“Let’s go to the bathroom ol boy!” Eddy says with way more excitement than I am comfortable with. Finally, we got something slightly realistic about grungy nightclubs! quote:And with that I am following a near-stranger dressed in a purple latex tuxedo into a grimy toilet stall in an even grimier club. Drugs will make a man do bizarre things. There’s hardly any room in here and the flickering lights overhead make it hard to see what I am snorting. There’s no paper dispenser and we end up laying the lines out on the seat of this decrepit toilet and bending down low to sniff it up. To someone outside the stall it probably looks like we are giving short blowjobs to one another. Drugs will make a man do bizarre things. Drugs. Bizarre things. More drugs. The music is loud and it covers the sound of our hissing and sniffling. I can feel the drip in the back of my throat and remember that I have a big bag of tricks myself. Ordinarily I would suggest against popping random pills that you've never seen before, but anything that takes this guy out is for the better. quote:His eyes widen and I’m not sure if he’s ever done this before. We pop a couple of tabs of something, Ludes? Vicodin? Adventure Unknown. I don’t have a cup of water so I flush the toilet to make sure it’s fresh. Who am I kidding? This is water from a septic system in London town, gently caress it. I dip the tip of the gear into the crusty bowl and I am careful this time to only pull 30cc’s into mine, and because I’m selfish I only give him 15. I mix the cocaine with toilet water and light a match underneath it just to “Sterilize” it. I’m laughing at myself. Eddy asks what is so funny but I don’t feel like explaining that we are going to put this nasty poo poo directly into our bloodstream, he already knows and I have to stay focused. Yes, it is actually possible for our protagonist to get worse from where he was before! quote:I help fasten the tourniquet around his arm and make sure I am in his vein before I unleash this powerful venom through his flowing circulation. I look directly into his eyes and ask if he’s ready. Before he gives me an answer I am pushing the liquid cocaine into the vein of the ditch in his arm. He feels the effects immediately and has to sit on the toilet seat while I get my rig in place. You know you've failed in writing about depravity when it doesn't inspire a single emotion from the reader. This is written in such a way that it feels more pathetic than anything else. Just lovely people being assholes and doing drugs. Whoopee. quote:Exiting the stall I notice that a line has formed with different shades of men wishing they could take a piss there on the floor. I see a guy in a diaper and wonder why he doesn’t just use that. We bump around the bathroom and find the exit to the dance floor, the beat of a drum machine hammering us into the ground. I actually did a search and Will uses "rush" in this context 10 times in this book alone. Maybe he should have tried harder with his thesaurus. quote:We dance in the flux and I’m not sure how much time goes by but it feels like eternity. My teeth are grinding and my body is shaking to the beat of the expensive drum machine software. The saw of distorted keyboards grinding my brain in half and I am loving synthesized, flying high. I can feel myself outside myself. Eddy the Tailor explains his fear of that notebook was probably just a coincidence and that I shouldn’t worry about it. I’m too hosed up to care anyway. He grabs my dick through my trousers and I contemplate letting him blow me in a darkened corner somewhere soon. He's probably more hygienic than you at this point. quote:Suddenly I am getting pulled off the dance floor, it’s M. She looks incredible, an angel with strident wings and clear brown eyes. Eddy the Tailor is left in the jungle of grinding hips. She is leading me into another section of this enormous building. It’s a maze and I’m a rat trapped. We enter the “Hell” room. I laugh to myself. There are screams of torture over the slow crawl of Type O Negative’s “Christian Woman”. There to my left in the corner is the smallest man I have ever seen, perhaps four foot two. He’s wearing nothing but a chain around his neck that slaps onto the floor behind him and a pair of black army boots that look too big for him to walk around in without giving his feet blisters. His eyes are blindfolded and he is pumping his little rear end away into the folds of an enormous blob of a woman. She’s bent over on all fours receiving his sway with a look unimpressive. Is she filing her nails? Can she even feel what’s going on back there? In the center of the room I recognize the goofy Russian who supplied me with this medical bag and his pet Petunia. They have some poor sap tied to a cross and he is handing out lashes with a giant leather bullwhip with the greatest of ease while Petunia fucks him with a big black rubber dildo. She’s cursing at him in her native language. This scene is rather brutal and I’ve come to have a good time so I walk away. Petunia catches my eye and instead of breaking character, her role only intensifies until the gent on the cross is screaming in loving agony, bleeding from nearly every wound and probably wishing he didn’t get out of bed this morning. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3sMALbhJU6M None of Will's musical inspiration is all that unique. I like Type O Negative well enough, but they're such a stereotype among goth bands. I feel bad for the late Peter Steele for having to be associated with this book, as from what I understand he was actually a very nice guy and nothing like the image William Control tries to fit him into. quote:We go and set up in the corner on an empty medical table reserved for people that like to play doctor. I’m still high but the rushing intensity of mainlining pure cocaine is starting to settle down. I pull out the Amuse-Toi bag and rack up a few lines for M and I to snort. Sniff loving sniff. She looks at me with those “gently caress me” eyes and her rear end is swaying to the music slightly. Coke dick. I feel nothing down there. Just as I am contemplating how gorgeous M is, a woman wearing all white leather and latex walks up and says loudly into my ear, "How did I hear that in an accent?" quote:“The Whipping Haus.” She hands me a card that reads: You could put an address on, lady. quote:“I guess I will be seeing you there,” I spit back through the grind of my teeth. But...I don't feel this character. She's done nothing but stomp around in her heels, trying to be dominant and slightly sarcastic in a British accent. I think Will is such a tryhard that he legitimately thinks that his own pathetic attempts to seem powerful and badass actually work, so his idea of a worshipful woman is much the same. quote:M points to a leather clad woman across the room and with one finger beckons her to walk through the tangled mess of limbs and whips and deafening screams to where we are standing in the corner. This woman is a little taller than M with deep dark smoky blue eyes, soft cheekbones, a weak chin, and a slight smile because she knows what she is in for. As she approaches a charge of electricity hits me as if I have just stuck my finger in one of those dangerous 240 volt outlets. What I thought was leather from across the room turns out to be shiny vinyl stretched tightly over her frame. She has a corset that gives the illusion of a perfect hourglass shape. Her tits are trying to escape and the boots she is wearing are heavy, severe. Latches and loops and spikes and there is danger in those steps. She walks straight up to M and asks humbly, “How may I serve you this evening Mistress?”
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Mar 18, 2020 14:01
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Chapter 8quote:Searching the depths of my presence, I’ve become furious and agitated wishing there was some form of clarity with which to recreate the benevolence and the love I felt before Vivienne died screaming in that hunk of bloody metal. I’ve become that monster in the mirror, that sad and lonely version of myself that I rebel against on a daily basis. I find that my drug abuse has a center of gravity and that middle point between the sane and the insane lies within my own ugly manufactured sorrow from which I cannot escape. I ply myself with evil substances to feel something, anything, rather than the empty cavernous wasteland where my heart is supposed to sit. It works well on so many levels. Drug induced nausea, sleep deprived hallucinations, the rush of powerful opiates or stimulants coursing through my veins, the thrill of teetering on the edge of death keeps me feeling alive and the wind of my own tragedy can only blow these sails for so long. It is maddening to live this way and yet I feel at this point that I have lost my ability to choose where I end up at the end of the night. But do I care? Hardly. I am too busy trying to maintain my balance and my composure. This sounds like a summary of a hundred books before him. quote:M has the vinyl-clad damsel strapped good and tight in a stress position on this medical table. She is face down with her chest on her knees, breathing quickly for the corset may be choking her to death. Her back is arched which slightly pushes her rear end into the air. The knots around her wrists bind each arm to a loop on either side of the table and I can see she is in pain already. M turns to me and says, “I want you to stick your index and middle fingers inside of her.” My teeth are clenched in a cocaine battle against each other. Jaw swiveling, I reach out and plunge both fingers inside of her preemptively wet pussy. It’s tight and I can feel the walls of her closing in and contracting around them. She releases a soft moan. I’m starting to feel again. ....yeah? quote:“That, my dear boy is unadulterated trust and obedience. That is what the majority of the population on this planet wishes they could find, someone with whom to share that trust, someone to live for and someone to give everything to. This little whore has been my property for more than three years now.” Her eyes light up when she says the word ‘property’. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=l3L9YoUuegc This is one of those videos you don't want to show your boss. quote:She pulls me close, unzips my trousers and pulls out my flaccid coke dick for the whole club to see, looks me straight in the eyes and says, “You are going to gently caress me properly this time while I eat this little oval office alive.” There is no question about that statement and I’m filling up with blood in her hand as she gently massages me back to life. It doesn’t take long. Full steam ahead. She turns and bends over the table and places her tongue in her slave’s dripping oval office and I step up and into M’s pussy without a word. I’ve got my hands on her tiny hips and with her heels on she is exactly the right height for me to thrust into with ease. I can feel her clenching the strong muscles around my dick and I can smell the slave she is working on all around us. M has the tightest pussy I have ever been in. Perhaps she doesn’t let men gently caress her that often. Or maybe it’s because of how small she is. Out of nowhere I feel a warm body press up behind me. I turn my head and it’s Petunia, Zorkin’s pet from earlier. She’s trying to whisper something to me but I can’t hear what she is saying. I’m too focused on keeping my dick hard. Petunia reaches around from behind, around my waist and she is holding my balls with one hand and fingering M’s rear end with the other. M stops eating her slave for a moment and turns to tell me she is cumming. I can feel the whole world vibrating with intense artistry, the walls of the club are dripping with sweat, the beat of the music is crushing us all and her pussy is squeezing my dick so hard that I too am going to explode at any moment. I let go and pound every ounce of my jizz into her pussy with speed and pull out quickly just to watch it ooze down her left leg. She is shaking and shivering in ecstasy, her legs almost buckle but she screams “gently caress” at the top of her lungs and then stands straight up. M doesn’t miss a beat. Her skirt is still pulled up and her inner thighs are covered in my lust and she steps back and is cracking that whip again, this time on the poor slave’s back. The electricity of orgasm has intensified her swing. These are strikes of pleasure wrought with screams of delight with every whack. I am dizzy and have pulled my trousers back up and have collapsed into the booth behind me. Petunia sits down on the floor in front of me, looking up in silence. I’m uncomfortable and offer her some blow to which she declines. I give her a blindfold so I don’t have to feel her gaze and proceed to rack up another few lines. What a party. If you let your eyes just glaze over and skip this entire massive paragraph, I will not fault you. It's not even good porn. quote:Crazy. Am I crazy? Am I reliable at this point? What are teeth made of? It’s a good thing they aren’t made of stone. I would have chiseled them away hours ago with my tongue. I am full of useful observations. Like "Why did I publish this?" quote:The lights are switched to full epileptic seizure strobe mode and I’m feeling the effects of the pills I popped right before that last shot with Eddy in the bathroom. The rush of the cocaine is flowing and the opiates are boiling into place. I’m on a loving roller-coaster without a safety harness and I am holding onto nothing but the air. Petunia, still on her knees at my feet, is gently massaging my dick, trying to get me hard again. It’s no use I say to her. She cannot hear me. Maybe I don’t want her to. There are screams of pain and cries of pleasure coming from every corner of the room. M is still furiously beating her slave, calling her names, spitting on her and I wonder how much more a human being could possibly take. There’s a rail skinny chick eating out of a dog dish on the floor, little bankers with pig masks smelling each other’s assholes, and a dominatrix dressed in a red velvet cat suit placing her heel down the throat of a guy lying flat on his back. He’s gurgling and dry heaving and the sound he makes is absolutely gruesome. In a cage just opposite to my position another guy is naked, he is bound in saran wrap. Everything is covered except for his cock and balls. A little Asian in a prepubescent prep school outfit is slamming her knee into his testicles repeatedly and his groans of agony would make even the most hardened criminal weep with sympathy. This chick should take up playing hockey. The music is blaring and thank gently caress, listening to this guy crying is starting to hurt my stomach. This is so bad to read that I forgot Petunia was even involved. It's like someone took a wadded-up, jizz-encrusted page out of an old porn magazine and pressed it into my face. quote:I notice a staggering Eddy the Tailor coming towards me through the strobes. His movement chopped up like an old eight-millimeter film. He’s stumbling into people around the room, like a happy drunk without a care in the world. He plops down next to me. “Very nice. Looks like you’re enjoying yourself.” Yes, that's yet another book reference where it's just Will telling us that this is a book that exists. quote:“Yeah, well, I suppose she is.” "I don't even know why you got it! You haven't really done anything of consequence except stumble around on coke and gently caress a girl in a really vanilla way!" quote:The tiny John Waters mustache painted on Eddy’s upper lip is twitching because his jaw cannot stop moving and I can’t help but laugh. Watching Pink Flamingos would be a better use of your time than reading this, and probably cost you a lot less money. quote:Laughter. I forget that sometimes we need to laugh at the circumstances that surround us to prevent ourselves from going mad, to keep the demons at bay. My existence is predicated on the notion that I am some sort of conduit from the living to the eternally damned. I am loving insane. There’s no way that could be the truth. I am dreaming of Lucifer and Azael and Hell and god. I’m dreaming of a life I never had and future that is uncertain. Or maybe this cocaine is just really strong and my dick is about to explode into Petunia’s mouth.
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Mar 19, 2020 13:55
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Chapter 9quote:I am the stranger in a strange land, an isolationist plunged within the quarry of the adventurous. The suits and ties and gags and dripping wet cunts wrapped in latex are all waiting to be peeled off and tasted. Here I am, out of my loving mind. No, you already used that reference in the last chapter! You can't recycle it that fast? quote:The night wanes with us at the bar. Eddy the Tailor is chatting to a bloke in a black trench coat and top hat and I am minding my own business, wondering if this sort of activity was what Hope had in mind when she gave me that envelope of cash and a plane ticket to London. The beat drags and pounds on through the philosophical narrative in my own head. Am I wandering down the right path in Lucifer’s eyes? Is Vivienne safe down there sleeping in Hell? I didn’t know you could sleep in Hell. I was raised to believe you just get tortured for all of eternity. Preferential. Some get better service than others. Like on an airplane. This is becoming tiresome, this droning on of my own thoughts, this incessant need to answer questions that cannot be answered. I ply myself with more alcohol. I chat with an ugly girl who looks ashamed at every question I ask. I tell her to chin up. I lie and tell her she’s beautiful. She smiles. The noise and the hum of this place is raunchy and I need some air. I grab the medical bag and sling it around my shoulders like a bike messenger and head for the door. Hang on, I have a pic of the guy Eddy is talking to:  quote:Outside, the atmosphere is crisp, cold. I’m sweating so much from this latex shirt I have on underneath my button down that I can feel it dripping down the front of my trousers. I can see wisps of steam begin lifting off the bridge of my nose and no doubt the top of my head. I walk around the corner and light a cigarette in solitude. Relieved that no one is trying to speak to me. I can faintly hear a couple arguing in the alley down the block. There’s a taxi and its driver sitting alone across the street waiting for a fare. The street lamps are a warm shade of ginger and I am shaking again. I pull the last few drags out of my cigarette and head back towards the entrance of the club. Just as I go to grab the handle the door flies open and two enormous bodyguards are escorting a wailing Eddy the Tailor from the club. He’s screaming some sort of drunken nonsense about the way you handle people and how unacceptable this brutal treatment is. It’s gibberish and I can see why they are throwing him out. Closely following the commotion is M and her servant, who walks with a slight limp. That’s no surprise. She tells me we are headed for the Whipping Haus and that she has a surprise for me. I don’t really care where we go or what surface I’m snorting lines off, so I don’t have any objections. Why does he keep doing this thing where he summarizes his own book instead of actually writing out anything happening? quote:The cab ride is quick. Ten minutes at the most, back over the bridge and into the maze of Soho. It’s quite impressive how these drivers really know how to get around in this city. I am already lost; it’s too dark to see the stars and I have absolutely no bearing on which direction we are headed. That's a misspelled Marylebone High Street, which is a high-end shopping street just south of The Regent's Park. quote:There’s a buzzer on the door and the place looks deserted and vile. The stone blocks covered in two centuries of sorrow and decay. M rings the buzzer and a voice replies, “Good evening and welcome to the Whipping Haus. Please have your invitations ready and in your hand as you step out of the elevator.” Ominous in nature, I think to myself. These people take themselves way too seriously. The door buzzes and I pull it open for the women, the gentleman that I am. “Thank you, Sir,” they reply in unison. This hallway just sounds like a hotel. quote:“I think you’re really going to like this place.” She says in sort of a Willy Wonka-esque tone, as if we are about to enter The Chocolate Factory. This text is so dull I actually forgot that this moment occurred. My eyes slide around on the page, unable to find anything of interest to focus on. quote:“What the hell is wrong with you?” https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=bUnclCbaz5Y quote:There are beds and tables and chairs stretched in every direction of this fantastic hall filled with people drinking and laughing and loving and exploring one another. I feel like Tom Cruise in Eyes Wide Shut, except I don’t have a stupid mask and probably look more like the character he played in Vanilla Sky after the accident. Sauntering through the sea of people with M in the lead, I’m grabbed from behind by the woman from the club earlier who liked my accent. The white leather and latex is gone and has been replaced with a vintage leopard skirt so short I can see the garter belt attached to her stockings. The “tease me please me” stockings from Agent Provocateur. I love those. Imagine being such a bad writer that you're presenting the reader with this glamorous underground mansion where every pleasure is available freely, and the best you can do is "There's lots of furniture and people are drinking and loving." The lovely song that accompanies this on the album actually helps provide depth to the scene because it's so lacking on the page that anything is better. Also, those stockings are a real brand. They're $60 new. quote:“You made it! How wonderful!” She says in her beautiful English accent. I am such a sucker. gently caress this ocean! The ocean all the stocks dropped into! quote:I tell her to follow me. We catch up to M and her slave who has taken a table next to one of the four different bars that are situated in each corner of this enormous hall. This place is fantastic. Totally disguised as some run down building on the outside and transformed into a breathing work of art on the inside. This must be an old train station abandoned and then converted. The English are very good at that. Recycling history. Like, a London Underground station or a straight up train station that somehow had the city built on top of it? Most of the city of London proper is really flat. quote:“Who’s your friend, William?” M asks inquisitorially. Get the gently caress out of here. That's not a real name. gently caress you. quote:This woman is startlingly beautiful, elegant and composed. She’s tall, striking. She could have been a movie star in the Twenties during Prohibition. Her hair is a gentle shade of auburn and her skin is as white as snow. I can’t take my eyes off of her and the Mistress Marie knows that I want to taste her flesh. There is just something about red hair and white skin that can make a man weep. Saraphine knows that she looks glorious. Although she remains humble about it. She is perfectly tuned in to the world around her. She explains that she is in her third year of medical school practicing in the field of geriatrics; that she loves to take care of the sick and the disabled. She’s noble and I fall in love with every word that tumbles out of her perfectly plump red lips. I want every single piece of her right at this moment but know that I would just disappoint. I would love to stay at the table, get to know her, marry and have children with her. Idiot. I am too far gone to consider getting aroused and my mind switches back to the thought of getting loaded again. I have a one-track mind. Well, two if there is pussy in the room, but my eagerness to drown in buckets of lust always loses out if there are narcotics burning a hole in my pocket. M stands up and instructs her servant to keep our new guest company and motions for me to follow her. As we walk she explains that there is an activity that I am going to have a lot of fun performing. So she's...another hot white woman who looks generically beautiful? quote:“It’s called Confession. I already have us listed as the priest.” https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1CIznsxMzhg This might actually be his worst music video! How little money did he have when he recorded this? Even the other songs from this album have proper videos, not just someone following him around with their phone. quote:“Okay.” I say. “You have my attention.” That run-on sentence is giving me a migraine. quote:“You really are a sadist, aren’t you?” In case you haven't noticed, the third woman here doesn't even have a name. She's got less character than Petunia, a woman who literally exists as a BDSM prop. quote:We wade through piles of moaning bodies and drunken laughter, screams of lust and lashes of pain, penetration and pleasure. Through the tits and the cocks and the dimpled asses swinging and filling the room with the smell of sex and degradation. It’s a regular circus in here. We step into the booth and pull the curtain. Surprisingly the sound dies down. These curtains must be lined with lead. Inside there is a plush bench for us both to sit on, it’s small but comfortable. The screen that separates the compartment of the booth is black and you cannot see through it. I’m busy fiddling with the spoon and cocaine. This time I am going to add some Heroin for a speedball. I suppose that at this juncture I have to up the ante. That’s what my brain tells me anyway. Someone steps into the other compartment and begins. Why did you capitalize Heroin but not God? Is this a hidden meaning or just your lovely grammar? quote:“Forgive me, for I have sinned. It’s been two months since my last confession,” a wavering voice commences. This is it. This passage is literature's nadir. quote:gently caress me this is weird. Will is doing his own Let's Read! quote:In comes a woman who explains that she pisses in her husband’s meals during the preparation for dinner, a cop who steals from the evidence locker at work, an older fellow that confesses he hasn’t been able to get hard in over two decades but loves watching porn. M dishes out punishment with pleasure and loves listening to them weep. I am just about to put this needle in my arm and someone else steps in. I hold off because I know that once this is traveling into my veins I will no longer be able to enjoy any of this dialogue properly. chitoryu12 fucked around with this message at 16:05 on Mar 20, 2020 |
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Mar 20, 2020 16:02
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I thought you were sick of incredibly boring writing after the first few Twilight books. I'm having a hard time deciding which series is worse.
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Mar 21, 2020 19:01
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I literally can't read this. My eyes just slide off. It's nothing. It's not even shocking, it's nothing.
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Mar 21, 2020 19:37
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