Post by nbk on May 28, 2011 11:35:24 GMT -5
New Orleans, The Big Easy, a cultural feast for the eyes, a city of tragedy and soul. You have been wandering around for hours now, shooting some of the fabulous Creole Architecture that gives the city a uniqueness rare in this vast country. You have been mesmerised by the beautifully played Jazz you have encountered spilling out of various establishments. You had toured some truly stunning cemetery's with above ground tombs that would live in the memory forever.
You had arrived in New Orleans as part of the 'Advance team' and alongside Harvey you were responsible for ensuring the camera work at the unique event UGWC had planned in just under a weeks time went off without a hitch. With such an important event in your hands, even if you were only playing a small part, had inspired you more than any of your work to date for this company. You had found on past prjects uit always helped to have a theme in your mind, and you couldn't help yourself and had taken a day to explore this unique metropolis in search of idea's.
And for all it's beauty, you would have to be living underneath a rock to be unaware of the darker and sadder side of it's history. And that's why you were now standing in an eerily quiet and devastated street, a stark reminder of the tragedy that struck this populous 6 years ago, a devastating monument to how ill prepared humanity can be when the vicious cycle of nature takes a hold.
And you couldn't help but be amazed by the people you had encountered, despite the tragedies that they have undoubtedly witnessed and lived through,t heir spirit, their passion knew no bounds. You had been few places in your life where people had been so welcoming and friendly to strangers they had never met. This had to be your theme, somehow, the triumph of human desire and spirit against even the bleakest of backdrops, a celebration of passion in the face of adversity.
You didn't quite know how you were going to pull this off, but alongside Harvey and a night of tender Jazz you were sure the two of you would be able to plan something suitably grand. But as you turn to head back towards the bustling center of the area, your eye is drawn towards the side of the road, and you immediately reach for the camera you have chosen to lug around with you to catch some truly inspiring shots.
You fix your tripod and begin to shoot.
The Killer has arrived in New Orleans early as well, and he sits in the gutter, stroking a novelty shrunken head, probably stolen from a local 'Voodoo' themed store.
We have been naïve...far too naïve...to the extent that we resemble those that consistently ignore...and dismiss the threat that we impose. We have been distracted for too long, and the big picture has actually eluded us, and even The Screams are humbled by our joint failure...to spot what is so obvious. A fact so blindingly apparent, it seems even the sub-formed consciences of those that struggle to contemplate the reality of The Natural Born Killer, have been able to grasp it. Shame is something we have felt...only fleetingly in the years since we began our journey together, but for this we know we should be ashamed...more ashamed than the others.[/b]
NBK turns the shrunken head towards him, as if aiming his words towards this ironic symbol of superstition.
My...prey at WrestleStock...are not clear of shame, they each carry their own in abundance. Paul Cockatoo shames his heritage by limply accepting the back seat to his oppressors, never truly aspiring to vanquish himself from their bonds, always willing to smile and eat their effluence at their whim. He is no more than a token afterthought to whomever he chooses to subjugate himself to, and has no desire to develop into anything more than...the nations longest running bad joke.
And what of Enigma? His shame unlike that of his ally, comes not from his lack of intelligence, but from his own ability to...put the pieces together. Despite the name he chose...there is nothing inexplicable nor surprising about him as an individual...and he is aware of this. His life has become...predictable to say the least...yet he seems to be powerless to do anything about it. The frustration....that even his name makes a mockery of him...yet he does nothing to rectify this...brings shame upon him.[/b]
NBK now begins to throw the head in the air from one hand to the other, his eyes and head following it as it arches and drops...
The Killer could go on for hours...shame is something UGWC has an abundance of
and his upcoming prey merely highlight that. Medos the Champion so convinced of his own unworthiness that after a brief spout of self-confidence, he has retreated into hiding...Kyle Tacker so angry, but with no real reason, his vitriol is a façade, he is a fraud...and Johnny Blake, a man quick to sell himself out to the devil...but it took him far longer to realise it was not who he was, but who he knew...that was the attraction....
But The Screams...have spent all month...observing their potential dance partners...to the point they have become bored with anticipation...their is no more to milk from the prey that is still so far from our grasp. They will all...get the full attention they are due...come June 3rd...they will all step into the ballroom with The Killer...and we shall open WrestleStock with a selection of sweet samba's, whirling waltz's, and ferocious foxtrots...[/b]
NBK giggles childishly to himself before turning the miniature head towards himself, and manipulates it to nod in agreement enthusiastically.
They have...all had enough of my attention....their shame is clear for all to see...yet The Killer is the one with the greater shame...the shame of short sightedness. We came to UGWC with a simple aim...to dance, that was the sum of our intentions...The Screams do not revel in victory, nor do they despair in defeat. The pain inflicted upon The Killer in the ring, is nothing to that co-exists inside his cerebrum...yet in that ring, that pain ceases, and if the Killer had the ideal, he would remain in their forever...
Yet the Screams have become more and more restless since we arrived, our straightforward desires failing to satiate their hunger. They feel...overlooked when dance partners are picked...as if they are standing on the sides, with only the awkward unbalanced remainders, whilst the popular spin and groove the night away. “More!”,bellow their demands, the dark passengers sensing...they are only being thrown the scraps...that their partners....are not invested in the entanglement.
None of our prey have danced with passion or fire with The Screams...none have opened themselves to our embrace as they do with their various other partners...and this moves us to despair and frustration. We can sense what is just out of our grasp...a utopia of pain and suffering...the extent of which we have rarely experienced...is on the horizons, taunting our every waking moment...as we suffer through the inadequacy of what we are served...[/b]
NBK now takes the Shrunken head and begins to squeeze it in his right hand.
And there is no-one to blame than The Killer himself...this is why I carry more shame than my prey...because even their underwhelming skills of deduction...have lead them to the answer....that has eluded NBK for too long. We have been approaching this...in completely the wrong manner...
We look at the likes of Medos, and despite his glaring inadequacies and weaknesses...those that face him, do so wholeheartedly, with a passion and forthrightness that has been alien to us for so long. The Screams have demanded I explain how such...an uninspiring example of humanity...could elicit such responses on the dance floor...whilst you are left with the distracted and irrelevant.
For so long, they would not believe that I could not give them the answer...that was not what they wanted to hear, and they tore into my cortex and made the nights longer, the cold colder...until it became obvious...and clear as day...it was the Gold...humanities weakness.
How had we not seen it? UGWC's prey line up...like lambs to the slaughter, with eagerness to earn a chance to brush with the glittering belt that adorns his waist...they have no times for The Killer questioning their pride, their emotional core...all they are interested in...is the vanity of short lived glory. The Natural Born Killer stated clearly when we entered this realm...that we were not interested in fame, nor success...just the dance.
And that was my mistake! The biggest mistake....we have made in quite some time...since the last of our passengers joined us for this ride...it is simple to see, the direct correlation between success and...prey. Much like any good hunter...if the Killer wishes to score the grandest and most sought after prey....he must have the most alluring bait. No successful hunter...has ever made the mistake to think the animals he stalks can think like him...their needs may be base and incomprehensible to you...downright dumb...but a knowledge of their primitive behaviour...will lead you to the feast you envisaged.[/b]
NBK stands to his feet, and then throws the shrunken head to the floor before stamping on it.
No longer is The Killer blind to this...he has finally become aware of the course of action he needs to take...once it was not about the winning, about the glory....but now, The Natural Born Killer...must come to possess...what they all want, The Killer must become...a Champion. When the five....that have been led into his path...have fallen in front of the eyes of thousands in New Orleans....maybe then....those that dwell in UGWC will finally see just why The Natural Born Killer is...The Most Dangerous Rumour They've Never Heard!'[/b]
The Killer rises and passes out of shot. And you cease to roll.
You hadn't expected that, and were quite disturbed at The Killer's brief fascination with The Shrunken Head. But on the flip side you wouldn't have to interrupt your planning to go a wild goose chase for The Killer, and could probably enjoy a good glass of bourbon tonight to sooth what could well be a spot of sunstroke as a well earned reward.
Today, was a good day.
You had arrived in New Orleans as part of the 'Advance team' and alongside Harvey you were responsible for ensuring the camera work at the unique event UGWC had planned in just under a weeks time went off without a hitch. With such an important event in your hands, even if you were only playing a small part, had inspired you more than any of your work to date for this company. You had found on past prjects uit always helped to have a theme in your mind, and you couldn't help yourself and had taken a day to explore this unique metropolis in search of idea's.
And for all it's beauty, you would have to be living underneath a rock to be unaware of the darker and sadder side of it's history. And that's why you were now standing in an eerily quiet and devastated street, a stark reminder of the tragedy that struck this populous 6 years ago, a devastating monument to how ill prepared humanity can be when the vicious cycle of nature takes a hold.
And you couldn't help but be amazed by the people you had encountered, despite the tragedies that they have undoubtedly witnessed and lived through,t heir spirit, their passion knew no bounds. You had been few places in your life where people had been so welcoming and friendly to strangers they had never met. This had to be your theme, somehow, the triumph of human desire and spirit against even the bleakest of backdrops, a celebration of passion in the face of adversity.
You didn't quite know how you were going to pull this off, but alongside Harvey and a night of tender Jazz you were sure the two of you would be able to plan something suitably grand. But as you turn to head back towards the bustling center of the area, your eye is drawn towards the side of the road, and you immediately reach for the camera you have chosen to lug around with you to catch some truly inspiring shots.
You fix your tripod and begin to shoot.
The Killer has arrived in New Orleans early as well, and he sits in the gutter, stroking a novelty shrunken head, probably stolen from a local 'Voodoo' themed store.
We have been naïve...far too naïve...to the extent that we resemble those that consistently ignore...and dismiss the threat that we impose. We have been distracted for too long, and the big picture has actually eluded us, and even The Screams are humbled by our joint failure...to spot what is so obvious. A fact so blindingly apparent, it seems even the sub-formed consciences of those that struggle to contemplate the reality of The Natural Born Killer, have been able to grasp it. Shame is something we have felt...only fleetingly in the years since we began our journey together, but for this we know we should be ashamed...more ashamed than the others.[/b]
NBK turns the shrunken head towards him, as if aiming his words towards this ironic symbol of superstition.
My...prey at WrestleStock...are not clear of shame, they each carry their own in abundance. Paul Cockatoo shames his heritage by limply accepting the back seat to his oppressors, never truly aspiring to vanquish himself from their bonds, always willing to smile and eat their effluence at their whim. He is no more than a token afterthought to whomever he chooses to subjugate himself to, and has no desire to develop into anything more than...the nations longest running bad joke.
And what of Enigma? His shame unlike that of his ally, comes not from his lack of intelligence, but from his own ability to...put the pieces together. Despite the name he chose...there is nothing inexplicable nor surprising about him as an individual...and he is aware of this. His life has become...predictable to say the least...yet he seems to be powerless to do anything about it. The frustration....that even his name makes a mockery of him...yet he does nothing to rectify this...brings shame upon him.[/b]
NBK now begins to throw the head in the air from one hand to the other, his eyes and head following it as it arches and drops...
The Killer could go on for hours...shame is something UGWC has an abundance of
and his upcoming prey merely highlight that. Medos the Champion so convinced of his own unworthiness that after a brief spout of self-confidence, he has retreated into hiding...Kyle Tacker so angry, but with no real reason, his vitriol is a façade, he is a fraud...and Johnny Blake, a man quick to sell himself out to the devil...but it took him far longer to realise it was not who he was, but who he knew...that was the attraction....
But The Screams...have spent all month...observing their potential dance partners...to the point they have become bored with anticipation...their is no more to milk from the prey that is still so far from our grasp. They will all...get the full attention they are due...come June 3rd...they will all step into the ballroom with The Killer...and we shall open WrestleStock with a selection of sweet samba's, whirling waltz's, and ferocious foxtrots...[/b]
NBK giggles childishly to himself before turning the miniature head towards himself, and manipulates it to nod in agreement enthusiastically.
They have...all had enough of my attention....their shame is clear for all to see...yet The Killer is the one with the greater shame...the shame of short sightedness. We came to UGWC with a simple aim...to dance, that was the sum of our intentions...The Screams do not revel in victory, nor do they despair in defeat. The pain inflicted upon The Killer in the ring, is nothing to that co-exists inside his cerebrum...yet in that ring, that pain ceases, and if the Killer had the ideal, he would remain in their forever...
Yet the Screams have become more and more restless since we arrived, our straightforward desires failing to satiate their hunger. They feel...overlooked when dance partners are picked...as if they are standing on the sides, with only the awkward unbalanced remainders, whilst the popular spin and groove the night away. “More!”,bellow their demands, the dark passengers sensing...they are only being thrown the scraps...that their partners....are not invested in the entanglement.
None of our prey have danced with passion or fire with The Screams...none have opened themselves to our embrace as they do with their various other partners...and this moves us to despair and frustration. We can sense what is just out of our grasp...a utopia of pain and suffering...the extent of which we have rarely experienced...is on the horizons, taunting our every waking moment...as we suffer through the inadequacy of what we are served...[/b]
NBK now takes the Shrunken head and begins to squeeze it in his right hand.
And there is no-one to blame than The Killer himself...this is why I carry more shame than my prey...because even their underwhelming skills of deduction...have lead them to the answer....that has eluded NBK for too long. We have been approaching this...in completely the wrong manner...
We look at the likes of Medos, and despite his glaring inadequacies and weaknesses...those that face him, do so wholeheartedly, with a passion and forthrightness that has been alien to us for so long. The Screams have demanded I explain how such...an uninspiring example of humanity...could elicit such responses on the dance floor...whilst you are left with the distracted and irrelevant.
For so long, they would not believe that I could not give them the answer...that was not what they wanted to hear, and they tore into my cortex and made the nights longer, the cold colder...until it became obvious...and clear as day...it was the Gold...humanities weakness.
How had we not seen it? UGWC's prey line up...like lambs to the slaughter, with eagerness to earn a chance to brush with the glittering belt that adorns his waist...they have no times for The Killer questioning their pride, their emotional core...all they are interested in...is the vanity of short lived glory. The Natural Born Killer stated clearly when we entered this realm...that we were not interested in fame, nor success...just the dance.
And that was my mistake! The biggest mistake....we have made in quite some time...since the last of our passengers joined us for this ride...it is simple to see, the direct correlation between success and...prey. Much like any good hunter...if the Killer wishes to score the grandest and most sought after prey....he must have the most alluring bait. No successful hunter...has ever made the mistake to think the animals he stalks can think like him...their needs may be base and incomprehensible to you...downright dumb...but a knowledge of their primitive behaviour...will lead you to the feast you envisaged.[/b]
NBK stands to his feet, and then throws the shrunken head to the floor before stamping on it.
No longer is The Killer blind to this...he has finally become aware of the course of action he needs to take...once it was not about the winning, about the glory....but now, The Natural Born Killer...must come to possess...what they all want, The Killer must become...a Champion. When the five....that have been led into his path...have fallen in front of the eyes of thousands in New Orleans....maybe then....those that dwell in UGWC will finally see just why The Natural Born Killer is...The Most Dangerous Rumour They've Never Heard!'[/b]
The Killer rises and passes out of shot. And you cease to roll.
You hadn't expected that, and were quite disturbed at The Killer's brief fascination with The Shrunken Head. But on the flip side you wouldn't have to interrupt your planning to go a wild goose chase for The Killer, and could probably enjoy a good glass of bourbon tonight to sooth what could well be a spot of sunstroke as a well earned reward.
Today, was a good day.
