Abusement Park
I'd heard all the hype. Apparently, Krush's own Vic Mendoza (http://www.v-m-u.com/) was doing some snooping. Getting really deep into the personal life of Genocyde. That's not the part I mind. What I was minding was that he was asking Rayne and an ex-girlfriend of mine.
Now, I'm not gonna get all pissed at VM. He's like that. He's like a high-schooler that digs all the juicy gossip on those he's worked with and relishes each moment. After I found out, I was listening to his show and since one of his bands didn't call in, I gave him a willing substitute...me.
I punched a few keys and before I knew it, I'd speed-dialled him and was kicked back on my lounge just waiting. When he picked up the phone, he, Stonie from The Unknownn, Lana from The Breakup and a couple of others were surprised to hear from me.
It was time for Genocyde to set the record straight and I'll do it here as well. Why? Because I can.
Some of Vic's questions earned answers like this.
1. First and foremost, Genocyde sleeps in the nude...not in his undies as was stated in the previous interview with Rayne and Kali. I think they were trying to help me save face in some way but it's not needed. My bed, My bedroom, no clothing, no hassle. Not to worry I always keep my sweats nearby to jump into so you're not horribly scarred should you walk in and see me sprawled out on my bed Skyclad as the day I was born.
2. Rayne and I are strictly platonic. Yes, we live together and yes she knows me way more than what others are comfy with knowing about me and yes I support the both of us but she does clean my place for me and at times, she's even done my laundry. I consider that fair. I know that persuing a serious relationship with Rayne would kill my chances with furthering my relationship with Helen and it would devastate a friendship that Rayne and I have had for over 11 years now. I don't want that. I love her to death and would do anything for her but it's strictly platonic.
3. Best believe Genocyde has let rip some belches and has blown ass in Rayne's presence.
They laughed at me and I think I even got the "Oh, Damien, dude, that's fucked up" from someone but please, take a minute to understand something.
Everyone who lives with me undergoes what I call The Mental Abusement Park. This is not me belittling or demeaning the person in any way. No, instead it's the most socially repugnant behavior in which I can engage. This includes but is not limited to passing wind (aka The Terrorist I-bin Pharteen), Belching at near operatic levels (Tarja Turunnen, meet your competition), hearing me in the bathroom when I have to push (hey, sometimes it helps to breathe the right way...learned this at work, blame them) and blowing out with a string of profanities when my machine decides it wants to act stupid...Sam Kinison style and yes, I scream off air as well at times.
The method to this madness is merely thus. Soon, they'll realize that I don't act this way in public and if I have to do any of these things, I'll simply excuse myself politely, perform the repulsive act, and then return. Once the realization occurs, they're more inclined to want to venture into public with me. Normally, it's a double-edged sword...they want to KEEP me in public to keep me in abstinence of my horrid behavior.
There is no mystery to me. I simply decided to stop impressing people and be, well...boring. Once I accomplished that, the rise to mediocrity was easy. If anyone becomes impressed with something I've done, great but if not, well, that's ok too.
I guess there's only so many failed attempts at things you can do before you figure out that your natural gifts have to shine through and there's only so many times that illusion will last before it's detected or countered.
People, if you're reading this and you've taken nothing else to heart, take this and hold onto it always. Never be impressed with the things I'm doing for amusement. Whether it's the DJ thing or the Tales From The Inside or even some off-the-wall nightmare I'm having that I decide to post, remember that I'd doing this for my amusement and if you're amused as well, I'm happy that you are but never be completely enthralled by it. Other than my aversion to sunlight and my love for the energies of total chaotic crowd unity, I'm like any one of you. I can fade into the night or blast into the spotlight. I still put my pants on one leg at a time. I have to shower when I wake up and brush my teeth, eat, crap and (maybe) pass from this Land of Finite Temporal Existence like the rest of you. I'm not mysterious. I'm not some resurrected corpse from the 17th century trying to seduce anyone in cheesy eurotrash accents while prancing around in rented formalwear. I'm a reanimated corpse from about 1996 and the corpse state was temporary. Hey, shit happens and that's been my most landmark achievement...just never ask how I did it or you'll be severely disappointed to know that not even I know how it happened.
Now, if you really want the straight dope on how "normal" I can be then keep in mind that I'll be interviewing Charlie Drown pretty soon. I'm fired up and my stomach is doing cartwheels because it happens in a little over two weeks time. I have no clue as to what to ask her, I think she's one of the most cooler-than-beans industrial/metal/rock acts ever and not to mention she's coming from the state that started the grunge movement...it's about damned time something else came outta there other than Nirvana and The Idiot Child President.
Anyway, it's time for Lord Genocyde to git nekkid (git r' dun!) and check out this new movie a friend at work gave me.
If you haven't seen it yet, I highly recommend it. It's called "Hostel."
Now, I'm not gonna get all pissed at VM. He's like that. He's like a high-schooler that digs all the juicy gossip on those he's worked with and relishes each moment. After I found out, I was listening to his show and since one of his bands didn't call in, I gave him a willing substitute...me.
I punched a few keys and before I knew it, I'd speed-dialled him and was kicked back on my lounge just waiting. When he picked up the phone, he, Stonie from The Unknownn, Lana from The Breakup and a couple of others were surprised to hear from me.
It was time for Genocyde to set the record straight and I'll do it here as well. Why? Because I can.
Some of Vic's questions earned answers like this.
1. First and foremost, Genocyde sleeps in the nude...not in his undies as was stated in the previous interview with Rayne and Kali. I think they were trying to help me save face in some way but it's not needed. My bed, My bedroom, no clothing, no hassle. Not to worry I always keep my sweats nearby to jump into so you're not horribly scarred should you walk in and see me sprawled out on my bed Skyclad as the day I was born.
2. Rayne and I are strictly platonic. Yes, we live together and yes she knows me way more than what others are comfy with knowing about me and yes I support the both of us but she does clean my place for me and at times, she's even done my laundry. I consider that fair. I know that persuing a serious relationship with Rayne would kill my chances with furthering my relationship with Helen and it would devastate a friendship that Rayne and I have had for over 11 years now. I don't want that. I love her to death and would do anything for her but it's strictly platonic.
3. Best believe Genocyde has let rip some belches and has blown ass in Rayne's presence.
They laughed at me and I think I even got the "Oh, Damien, dude, that's fucked up" from someone but please, take a minute to understand something.
Everyone who lives with me undergoes what I call The Mental Abusement Park. This is not me belittling or demeaning the person in any way. No, instead it's the most socially repugnant behavior in which I can engage. This includes but is not limited to passing wind (aka The Terrorist I-bin Pharteen), Belching at near operatic levels (Tarja Turunnen, meet your competition), hearing me in the bathroom when I have to push (hey, sometimes it helps to breathe the right way...learned this at work, blame them) and blowing out with a string of profanities when my machine decides it wants to act stupid...Sam Kinison style and yes, I scream off air as well at times.
The method to this madness is merely thus. Soon, they'll realize that I don't act this way in public and if I have to do any of these things, I'll simply excuse myself politely, perform the repulsive act, and then return. Once the realization occurs, they're more inclined to want to venture into public with me. Normally, it's a double-edged sword...they want to KEEP me in public to keep me in abstinence of my horrid behavior.
There is no mystery to me. I simply decided to stop impressing people and be, well...boring. Once I accomplished that, the rise to mediocrity was easy. If anyone becomes impressed with something I've done, great but if not, well, that's ok too.
I guess there's only so many failed attempts at things you can do before you figure out that your natural gifts have to shine through and there's only so many times that illusion will last before it's detected or countered.
People, if you're reading this and you've taken nothing else to heart, take this and hold onto it always. Never be impressed with the things I'm doing for amusement. Whether it's the DJ thing or the Tales From The Inside or even some off-the-wall nightmare I'm having that I decide to post, remember that I'd doing this for my amusement and if you're amused as well, I'm happy that you are but never be completely enthralled by it. Other than my aversion to sunlight and my love for the energies of total chaotic crowd unity, I'm like any one of you. I can fade into the night or blast into the spotlight. I still put my pants on one leg at a time. I have to shower when I wake up and brush my teeth, eat, crap and (maybe) pass from this Land of Finite Temporal Existence like the rest of you. I'm not mysterious. I'm not some resurrected corpse from the 17th century trying to seduce anyone in cheesy eurotrash accents while prancing around in rented formalwear. I'm a reanimated corpse from about 1996 and the corpse state was temporary. Hey, shit happens and that's been my most landmark achievement...just never ask how I did it or you'll be severely disappointed to know that not even I know how it happened.
Now, if you really want the straight dope on how "normal" I can be then keep in mind that I'll be interviewing Charlie Drown pretty soon. I'm fired up and my stomach is doing cartwheels because it happens in a little over two weeks time. I have no clue as to what to ask her, I think she's one of the most cooler-than-beans industrial/metal/rock acts ever and not to mention she's coming from the state that started the grunge movement...it's about damned time something else came outta there other than Nirvana and The Idiot Child President.
Anyway, it's time for Lord Genocyde to git nekkid (git r' dun!) and check out this new movie a friend at work gave me.
If you haven't seen it yet, I highly recommend it. It's called "Hostel."
posted by Lord Genocyde at 9:12 AM
1 Comments:
LOL Genocyde, you forgot to metion one other thing, when on the phone you have been known to go take a Piss and flush the comode while talking. I think you also have taken a shit when on the phone also. I think I was pissed off at Lying Fart when you did that one LOL. wished i had herd your call in take care... Stormy
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