>Hello’s peoples of the blogging world. It’s Friday and I’m alone in my room listening to incredibly sad music because I have sadistic, masochistic tendencies and enjoy pain and actually love it when sadness pops by. Actually, the only reason I’m home tonight, and stayed home all day -instead of going to dance class with Grecia to learn how to shake mah (invisible) booty, and then getting insanely drunk, as we’d planned yesterday- is because I really have no motivation whatsoever to do anything anymore.
Wonder what the reason might be?
Hmmm, no, not quite that. Good guess, though.
Give up yet? Well, ok then, I’ll tell.
Just take a look at this little excerpt from Lord Majesty, M.T. Reznor’s latest update on nin.com:
This was an amazing tour and production – certainly the best thing I’ve ever been involved with and likely the final tour for NIN on this scale. Thank you to those who came out to see it and forgive me for having a Kanye West moment, but this was FOR SURE the best show of the year and any bullshit end-of-the-year poll you may read in the next few weeks that says otherwise simply has it wrong. Those of you who saw it know I’m right.
The shows we have announced in 2009 and any more that may be announced will be a completely different approach with some different personnel and will likely be the last for the foreseeable future.
Indeed, this is a sign that the world is coming to an ugly, depressing, NIN-less end. I’m waiting for the Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse to show up at my doorstep anytime. Probably this January. And I am pretty sure that hideous Hillary Duff song that “samples” (see my relaxed use of the world sampling? that’s called sarcasm) Depeche Mode’s Personal Jesus is going to win a Grammy the next day. I’m telling you people, now it’s time to repent of all your sins and start listening to some good music for a change before the Armageddon comes our way.
If you’ve tuned in on this blog thing before, you probably (most likely don’t) know about my unfortunate experience with Nine Inch Nails tours earlier this year. If you haven’t, let me elaborate: Trent “hot shexy beast” Reznor canceled my fucking show that I had done the impossible to be able to attend, only three weeks before the date, and left me with shit. Literally shit. Well, not literally, as I’m pretty sure that if I’d gotten my hands on Reznor’s shit, I wouldn’t be so scorned about him cancelling my show… *fangirl moment OMG!* because that’s how freakish and fangirly I am. So anyway, after spending a couple days in denial and a couple others stuck on the computer (haha, as if) trying to get me an affordable plane ticket to the closest NIN show, I hit myself over the head (unintentionally) with a wall and realized it was not going to happen. I was not going to see Reznor this year. Well, voi-fucking-la! Little did I know, I was not going to see him ever, ever, ever, ever, ever, ever… (if you don’t get the NIN reference, you suck. And I’m a dork).
Of course, the reactions were, as expected, of shock and disbelief. For a NIN fan, Trent not touring anymore is like telling a Catholic that the Virgin Mary was not really a virgin. Fucking blasphemy! Heresy! A sin! (lol, more NIN references) Because Nine Inch Nails is all about mind-blowing live performances involving mic stand humping, keyboard humping, fist-fucking (figuratively), stage destroying, screaming, moshing and hurting of the wimpiest. A Nine Inch Nails show is the ultimate live experience, whereby a fan is taken to the nirvana of awesomeness and aggression and gothness, and (if lucky) gets splashed with Trent’s water bottle. Trent Reznor is so much an entertainer and a performer as he is a creative genius, and no words can be pronounced against his immense talent onstage. And let’s not even mention his innate sex appeal. Smexy Trent is something you do NOT want to hear me rant about (more than I already have). It’s just not possible. A world where Trent Reznor is not onstage yelling his angsty shit to his black-clad, numetal-y fans is just not worth living in.
This despairing update was posted two cursed days ago, and since I was dealing with some other stuff and filling myself with buckets of ice cream and Chips Ahoy! because I’m a woman and that’s the only way we know how to deal with stuff, I had absolutely no energy to think of something stupid enough to say regarding this chaotic event. Now that I completely understand that the world is not cotton-candy sweet and happy and shit, and I’m a bitter old lady with a snarky, sarcastic outlook of things, I am much better, and my brain is filled with enough crap to fill out pages and pages of this blog. Since I’m not the kind to vent out my personal issues for the world to hear them (mostly), I’m just going to stick with moping about the Rez’s curtain call, or as I like to call it, the most important shitty news I got this week. And believe me, I got tons.
I know I have no say at all on the decisions Trent makes, and I am sure that he has his reasons to want to quit, but… like, can’t he reconsider it? I mean, yes, his voice is fucked up because he strains it an enormous deal so we dorky, ungrateful fans have something to yell ‘Nine Inch fucking Nails, fuck yeah!’ to at the shows. Yes, he works extremely hard to make every show nothing short of spectacular, and thus impress us dorky, ungrateful fans. Yes, he’s too fucking hot for his own good, and exposing us, dorky, ungrateful fan(girl)s to such hotness may cause irreparable damage to our… er, reproductive organs. But, can’t he just take a loooong vacation somewhere exotic like Fiji, sleep a lot, massage his bunions and, once he’s all brand new and shiny and pretty again, come back to the world of touring? I can be his masseuse! And he doesn’t even have to pay me anything! Seriously, I cannot even imagine how hellish the world is going to be without Mr. T onstage.
I know Trent is not going to read this, and I know 99,999999999999999 percent of the world population, or NIN fans (the only people who matter anyway) for that matter, are not going to be stumbling upon this retarded stop on Blogger anytime, I’m just going to dream that someone will one day read this and take pity in my pathetic fangirliness, and ask Reznor to consider this: Trent, please, do not quit. I love you way too much to see you retreat back into your coffin and never ever ever come out again. You and your cohorts have the undying, relentless support of all your minions including yours truly, and you know how loyal we are. We just have no lives and live to worship your ass. I promise you I’ll hunt down every motherfucker who ever yelled crap during Hurt and I’ll beat them within an inch of their gothness. And all those nasty kids who made fun of you in grade school, I can take them all down if you want. And I can make sure all roadies do as you say, and that Ally makes you lasagna for dinner and Justin Meldal-Johnsen poofs his afro every night as you stated on his contract. I can even kill Axl Rose with my own bare hands if that makes you happy. Just please, please, please, don’t go away. In fact, let me illustrate how I see your absence:
Although… there’s always the possibility that Trent, being the devil that he is, be pranking us naive fans. Huh… Or maybe he was throwing a hissy when he wrote that post and doesn’t really intend to quit. Or maybe he just likes to fuck with our heads because he is a very very bad man. Or maybe (insert whatever hopeful theory you can think of). Yeah, that sounds logical. Either way, I was serious about the things I offered above, so if anyone cares to tell Reznor I’m at his service, I will be eternally grateful. Thanks a bunch.
It’s 10:51 PM and I just got a call from a friend asking me to come to a party, and I refused, because I’m being introspective and deep and I’m pondering on the days to come. Days without NIN. Oh, God help us, NINies.
*Images courtesy of Zeemort and anotherversionofthetruth.com
(I’m still very fucking angry, by the way).