Howdy cowboys. This here is wirelessdarkness, serpentine and slithering into new gardens, summoned from a NWN! post and appreciating old friends. I don't get to see people I care about enough. I know two of the writers here and only of the third. Hails to old friends and new ones! I haven't typed anything but technical documentation for a solid nine months+, let's loosen my fucking collar and start with some assgrabbery.
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(**If you consider me warming up my fingers assgrabbery.)
If you guys don't know who I am by now, you may recall everybody calling me Lil' Duck at parties. I also wrote this song and a few other hit songs of the 80s and 90s alike.
All arms are strained from drywall in a new basement and physical labor I was never too good at: the taxing, monotonous bore of your wallet and life draining. As my own stomping ground has sort of collected a fair amount of dust, (and spammers too, holy fuck. Do you guys here get like 150 bigger dick now pills in your comment box a day? Can't tell if Russian or NSA...) I wish to warn you now: There will be no sympathy nor promises for my contributions upon you. There will be no yielding to either the unwilling or the folded. At least until the team kicks me off their authorized list. As usual, we descend upon the toes of the unwilling.
The recent Underrated Death Metal post here is true, and I fucking love it. Screams of Anguish is another classic by Brutality that never gets any credit. There's no denial that when I enjoy death metal anymore, it's few and far between. I take such delights in the painful, lo-fi mess that can be black metal. However, Witchrist and Vasaleath? Cool. Disma and Portal? Tubular. How about Mitochondrion? Not literally, name sounds like more like a "boring and acute" disease than a band, but it's just a cute little organelle in reality. Hailing from the Great White North and rarely leaving, this ritual turned satanic psyclone will give metalheads a headache and probably pull some possession parlour tricks on your friends. From banging their head too long, listening to what's being said, or trying to map their scale, people might kind of tweaktofreak out. Not in some dick-holding brosport "THEY ARE SO FUCKIN TECHNICAL /twohandsashornsinair" bullshit type of way, but in a legitimately make you uncomfortable type of way. Turn up the volume. Gives a whole new meaning to Satan's Kickin Yr Dick In...
It's all a great mystery I've yet to figure out, and as a terrible cryptographer, I'm leaving it to you devoted readers to lift a curse and a blessing from me and take it upon yourself...
You are the finite / infinite
You are the order / consuming order
Within right and left
Both for and against disorder / pure order
In the true symbol and nature of the beast
We enthrone the shape of the worm
In the false perception of prevolution all are
For god dwells within benthos: blood, and sperm
Oh hallowed parasite, to consume the benign
Ingesting all life, infecting beyond damnation
A needless evocation, of the unrestricted god malign
Axis of form and corruption
Divinity in the DISGUSTING
Perfection in CONSUMATION
Absolute instinct metastasized, (the monolithic question remains)
When will you actualize?
Like some strange woven journal, I've been able to encapsulate a few of the qualities:
- Numerology. Time signatures. Sigils drawn into fretboards. There is some mathematical mystery at play here. A clever pun on reality. 3 8 11 13 17 56 27 12
- There are peaks and there are crevices; a harnessing on all spectrums of what some consider to be extreme. The facade that this is somehow not also black metal is one that will only be drawn by those who seek to fulfill a purpose in branding what they enjoy or oppose.
- There is an attempt to obscure certain words, phrases, and concepts that trickles sprites of flame, while titles remain obtuse; all lyrics are attuned and thrust like a spear. From the wound comes light.
And that's just the "Pestilentiam Intus Vocamus, Voluntatem Absolvimus" trilogy, or "Plague Within We Call, Free Will We Absolve." It may be a sign of the times, but if I demand to be crushed, you may as well make it sound like you're going to flatten me under a hammer. One that so happens to be smoldering redgreys and whitehots. Now if only they'd do a split with Antediluvian, I can finally give birth to some strange spiritual beast. Or at least cum blood, like I always remembered from that Cannibal Corpse song. Fuck.
Did I just mention Cannibal Corpse? Okay. Okay. Getting awkward. I'm going to go have a smoke.