Nine Inch Nails
Nine Inch Nails is Trent Reznor. For over a decade NINís music has explored majestic soundscapes born of Reznorís imaginative genius. In addition to his studio wizardry Reznor also delivers a killer live show. A NIN concert is a journey of sight and sound, a revelatory experience from which there is no turning back.
"Welcome home, honey." I said. "I made you Chinese food."
"Burnt rice topped with soy sauce?" Justin said. "This is neither Chinese nor food."
"Well why do I always have to cook? You never take me out to dinner anymore."
An adderall and a good cd were a recipe for awesome. I listened to music and wrote in the afternoon and worked at night. The second half of my day was as grueling as the first half was euphoric. My life was an oil painting rendered in exquisite shades of pleasure and pain.
My dreams differed from those of the common bourgeois. Most of them involved becoming a celebrity. I wanted to be a rock star. Or maybe a serial killer. Fame or infamy, it didnít really matter which. I just wanted to become well known for something.
"The mushrooms on this pizza taste funny." Brannen said. "Where did you get them?"
"I found them in a little plastic bag under my druggie roommateís mattress." I said. "Why?"
There was urban sprawl as far as the eye could see. As we drove through the city my friend pointed out how every strip club was conveniently located next to a motel. I could hear the rhythmic thumping of car subwoofers, the heartbeat of the strip. The neon signs were beacons in the urban nightscape.
"I canít believe Squaresoft switched from Nintendo to Sony." I said.
"Donít think of it as the end of an era." Justin said. "Think of it as the epoch of a new one."
"Why are you still wearing your Viking helmet? Leif Erickson day is over."
"Leif Erickson day is never over as long as we have a song in our hearts and a plentiful supply of mead."
The radio was playing Another Brick In The Wall pt. 2. I couldnít get into Pink Floydís music. To me it just seemed like sonic masturbation for stoners. Not that I had a problem with stoners. After all, if it wasnít for them my Mcdonalds wouldnít get any late night traffic.
"Are you going to work at Mcdonalds for the rest of your life?" my dadís girlfriend said. "Donít you have any plans for the future?"
"Of course I do." I said. "I want to open a restaurant called Hellís Kitchen that specializes in satanic cuisine made from ritualistically slaughtered animals."
Fuck dating. The only woman I needed in my life was Mary Jane. I bought my bowl at a seedy Canadian convenience store in downtown Manchester. The glass, once clear, had since turned black with resin. "I canít wait until I can smoke pot again." Justinís sisterís friend said. "My probation ends on 4/20. Is that crazy or what?"
I was looking through my high school yearbook. My teenage years were a time of personal development and discovery, but thatís a bildungsroman for another time. As a teenager my favorite game was Final Fantasy VII. I liked games that rewarded skill but didnít require it.
"How can you like text based RPGs better than Final Fantasy VII?" I said. "They donít even have any graphics."
"Text based RPGs use the best graphics engine of all." Justin said. "Your imagination."
I watched tv. Iíve never hated a tv show as much as I hate the current episodes of The Simpsons. Donít get me wrong, there are much worse shows out there, but every time I watch the new Simpsons it totally rapes my memories of when the show was actually good, making it twice as painful to watch.
"Wow, just what I always wanted for Christmas." Brannen said. "An unstoppable undead army ready to do my bidding."
"I thought youíd like it." I said.
Do you have any idea how fast Brannen and Iís band jumped on the opportunity to tour with Nine Inch Nails? Weíre having a great time as we travel across the country leaving war, famine, pestilence, and death in our wake. Oh yeah, our band is called Silent Cemetarium. We look like Type O Negative and we sound like Ministry and weíre coming to your town.
Our band is playing a packed arena. Josh plays the drums with the frantic speed of Luciferís demonic steed chasing a dark oblivion. Itís time for Brannenís guitar solo. The audience raises their lighters as Brannenís guitar sheds electric tears of sorrow.
When goths fall in love planets align and ringwraiths murmur in forbidden whispers. My world is crumbling but my love riseth from the ashes like a phoenix reborn. Girl I Like, say youíll be my unholy bride and give birth to my horrible demon spawn.