Dingleberry clock has a ton of old CC stuff. I'll ask him to post it next time I talk to him.

I'm writing a book... I guess. Here's the first two chapters of it!

Goo. By Nick deCourville

Chapter One.

   Well, it's the end of the goddamn world. Okay. This is something I can handle. I can wrap my head around the idea that in just a short amount of time, the entire world will cease to exist. I imagine a normal person would be freaked out about the whole situation. However, this just isn't the case for me. For two reasons. One; there's a reason why in your typical disaster movies they always show a major city being destroyed. It's because that's the only possible way the apocalypse is in anyway interesting. I  do not live in a big city. In fact, I live in the middle of bum-fuck Egypt. A city so small that I was brought up to call it “bum-fuck Egypt” Two; the end of the world is painfully dull. Once again I feel it's the fault of Holly-Wood, but how can you not feel disappointed about the fact that instead of giant fuck-off aliens, you're left with nothing but tiny particles of matter slowly dominating all of civilization? Let me explain.
   I guess the story goes that some big shot scientist decided it would a great idea to attempt to make strange matter. What this stuff is, essentially, is matter that can “take over” other kinds of matter. Essentially, this shit turns shit into itself. Buildings will eventually turn into strange matter, the air will eventually turn into strange matter, and even your goddamn dog will turn to strange matter. This is a major problem. The good news is, the strange matter moves at a much slower rate than the scientists predicted. So instead of the world ending in a time-frame they can conceive; they essentially have no idea when the fuck it could happen. The bad news is, not only do they not know when it's finally going to all end, but there's no way to possibly stop it. How the fuck would you even try? At least, that's what I've been able to understand so far after reading a couple of articles on Wikipedia. Once again I must reiterate that I live in the middle of nowhere, and the people out here have decided it's just best to ignore the whole “end of the world” situation.
   Except “ignoring it” is probably the wrong expression to use. I should say “those poor fucks don't know what hit 'em”, because I also forgot to mention that not only do I live in a small town, but I live in a small town where ninety percent of the population consists of the elderly. You would have no idea that every single atom in the universe is about to turn into goo any day now. Hell, the news last night ran a piece about the oldest living member of the city turned one hundred and two. I don't doubt that the reporters know what the fuck is up, but I guess they don't want the elderly to panic. Can you imagine what three-thousand decrepit people all collectively shitting themselves would be like? I bet the reporters sure as hell did.
   Everyone else in town seems to be in a state of denial as well. Or they're just ignorant about the whole situation, I'm not really sure. I tend not to talk about them, as they're all so wrapped up in their miserable lives, it's become impossible to converse about anything. I know that sounds mighty foolish for me to say, but if you lived here I'm certain you would understand.
   So what exactly does a man of my meager status do during the shit-storm that is the end of the world? Nothing. I do best to stay informed of the situation through various on-line media outlets, but last I heard the goo hasn't even hit the states yet. Leaving me time to finish doing fuck-all.  
   When I first caught wind of the end of the world, I immediately gave up on anything I was working on. After all, why go to work when the world is about to end? Why finish school when destruction is on the horizon? It makes one feel melodramatic that's for damn sure. I keep telling myself to take a trip up to New York or something, maybe get a grasp on the severity of the situation. I keep telling myself to do this, but before I reach for my keys, I remind myself just how likely it is that I simply could not handle that much chaos. I know death may be imminent, but I sure as hell want to stick around for as long as possible.
   So I sit. Or I sleep. Or I masturbate. It doesn't matter. I've made my stand, and it's to spend the rest of my days waiting to die. It's not sadness nor anger. I feel nothing about my imminent peril. My days consist of moving from one place to lay to the next. The most active I'll be inside the home is to either eat, or the aforementioned masturbation rituals. I would have been truly excited if I could have spent the end of the world high, but that ran out weeks ago, and I'm certain I cannot find anyone willing to deal at a time like this.
   If I ever do leave the house, it's only to go down to the local grocery store. I try to look on the bright side of things, as a positive aspect to the end of the world is that I no longer have to bother with waiting in line, and I don't even have to bother with paying. No one in this town bothered to board anything up, but they're also not willing to keep it running. It's not exactly fear, but I guess it isn't bravery either. I mostly have to go for canned goods or things with infinite shelf life, as the downside is that the store owner did cut the power.
   The only thing I'm upset about is how truly boring this all is. I was hoping that if I were to be a part of the end of the world, I feel as though the most exciting scenario would have been a political uprising gone awry. People so full of themselves that they think they know what's best for everyone, then get up the courage to spew their shit to the rest of the world. Naturally they get to the ignorant first, but then as time goes on, and their charisma and abilities to sway an audience rise; they're able to sucker in the educated as well.
   This whole uprising naturally concludes with the leader of the group finally making his way to the presidency, where he slowly raises his hand over the nation. With this death-grip, he's able to strong arm his way with deadly force into terrorizing the rest of the world. Ultimately, he pushes a country just a bit too far, and nuclear war finally breaks out. Within moments, a phone call is made and buttons are  pushed, within the blink of an eye cities are laid to waster as atoms smash together and fire seems to rain from the heavens. The leader of the opposing country takes heed and returns the favor with his weapons of destruction. With his own phone, he's able to let loose teams of men scattered throughout our nation unleash a hell unlike one we've ever seen.
These atrocities continue on until there's nothing left. The destruction of man by one miserable fool.
   I realize now that this idea of mine was nothing more than an over-active imagination, a bit of paranoia, and a large misunderstanding of how the U.S. Government works.
   I make my way to the bathroom to relieve myself, as I stand over the toilet, a wave of fear hits me. My mind with begins to fill with the idea that I cannot possibly let my existence end like this. I was never a firm believer in the idea that every single human being on the planet had the pleasure of being a hero or a villain; but certainly I can do better than this. Just because there will be no one to tell my stories of conquest and victory, doesn't mean I shouldn't write them. I do my best to try and calm down, ease my mind, and try and get a grasp on the situation.
   Heavy breathing and some nervous crying, and I'm back to normal. I head back to my living room and lie down. I turn the TV on and let my mind melt. I guess now is a good time as any to admit that I've been trying to avoid a good deal of the cable news stories that are actually showing the end of the world. I'm sure that makes me seem a bit hypocritical, but fuck, I'm new to this. I flip through the channels until I find something I like, a process that can take longer than continental shift.
   After awhile, I find something good, a somewhat old show by the name of “My Name is Earl”. A comedy made not too long ago that dealt with an uneducated man trying to do right with the world. What he does is go through a list of every person that he's ever wronger, and does his best to do right by them. Admirable, for sure, until you realize he's only doing it to make his own life better.
   That's when ideas start forming, Hell, I could do this! I don't know if my writing shows it, but before the apocalypse I was sort of an assholeâ€"and that's putting it nicely. I realize that I must do this, I have to make it up to the people I've wronged, even if it's meaningless by the end of it all. Unlike Earl, my motives are at least a little bit pure. There's little reward for me, and I have the potential to make some people just a little bit happier before their deaths. I run to my room and drag my arm across my table, throwing everything on it into complete disarray. I grab pen and paper, and begin to think of everyone I have wronged. Before I can start to write, a name pops in my head. Nicole.
   It may seem stupid, but long ago Nicole's parents were getting divorced, and out of all the people in the world, she chose me to confide in. Me, being an asshole, decided it was more fun for me to just complain about how uninteresting her situation was. Shit, my parents got divorced, and I turned out just fine! Hell, my parents divorced when I was much younger than she was, so I don't even know what she's complaining about!
   Naturally, these were all the wrong things to say, but I couldn't help to say them anyway. She cried, and refused to speak to me for quite sometime. Her parents never did divorce, and Nicole and I never discussed the events ever again. However, I still can't help but to feel remorse for my actions, and I have spent far too long lamenting over it. To apologize to her was the most obvious choice for what I had to do first. If I can apologize to her for something somewhat trivial, I can make amends for anything.
   I then realized that I would have to get in touch with her. Do I still have her number? I begin ripping apart my room in search of it. I pull open every draw, upturn every object, and fan through every book in my room in search for her number. Until I finally find it written on the back of the very book I was writing my list on. I make a mental note to be more organized, and begin to dial.
   Several rings later, and I get her machine. So I leave a message:
   â€œ...Hey Nicole? It's... It's Nick. Uhh... listen Uh, remember some time ago... oh.. about three... no... four years ago when you were whining about your parents... splitting? Well... I.. I realize now that I could have responded a little better than I did... That maybe I could... could have handled it a little bit better than I did. Yeah... I was totally wrong... and I a.. apologize. Hope everything is going well...
…
Maybe when you get this you could call me back.. or... I dunno. Which ever. Bye.”
   I hang up the phone and breath a sigh of relief. It may not have been the greatest apology of all time, but it seems like it's good enough for the situation. I go back to making my list, when I realize I already have something to amend for that's far worse for saying the wrong thing. I have to amend for psychologically abusing an eight grade child.
   Chapter Two.
   The year was 1996, and I was a meager twelve years old. It was a
different time back then.  A time when Children’s television was at
its peak, and no one was aware of just how fucked everything would be.
I was fat then. I’m fat now, but I was fatter then. Too fat.
Ridiculously fat. I was fat to the point of having incredibly large
man-tits. This was also a period in my life when I had become full of
angst. Maybe it was the fact that I was large, but I repelled woman as
if it was a fucking hobby of mine.
Picture it, if you can. A fat, angsty, more than likely smelly, child.
Naturally a creature like this is bound to be made fun of by the rest
of the school children. Hell, even the handicapped children had a
one-up on me. Luckily, the only thing hated more by ignorant school
children than a fat kid is a gay one.
Zach wasn’t necessarily gay. But he was certainly eccentric.
Everything he did was extremely feminine in nature, and had a
boisterous quality to it. He couldn’t just get up and leave the room;
he had to declare it through the motions in his arms and legs as if he
were Zelda Fitzgerald. What made matters worse was that he talked with
a lisp. Not just any lisp, this lisp was the catalyst for other gays
to talk with one. The Alpha Lisp.
When you add all of these factors together, there’s almost no possible
way to survive middle school. Hell, his cousin was one of the head
cheerleaders, and even after coming to his aid on several occasions,
the guy still couldn’t catch a break. This is where I came in.
It’s sad and pathetic, but the only way I could get the “cool” kids to
talk to me, was if I berated poor Zak, and ladies and gentlemen… I
berated the shit out of poor Zak.
       Not a single moment was ever wasted not making fun of him. If our
bodies were to meet within the hallways, I would always make sure to
point out that he was indeed “the faggiest”. If I caught him walking
ahead of me in the halls, you could be damn certain I would be kicking
him in the ass the entire way to his next class.
       If any of the larger kids caught wind of me doing this, they would
join in on the torment. Afterwards we would then spend lunch together
and continue to make fun of him. After they got bored with that, they
went after me. Naturally I wouldn’t learn my lesson, and this would
continue day after day.
       You would think that before it even reached a boiling point Zak would
finally go balls out and fight back. You could think that, but you
would be horribly wrong. Zak would never put up a fight. Ever. Even
the most outrageous name calling and violence would still only illicit
a meek “stop it!” from him. I remember a time when the largest bully
in school, a twelve year old that was able to stand tall at six bills
and weight easily two-fifty, decided it would be just dandy to walk
right up to Zak and punch him in the back of the head. Not even the
teachers stopped the beast. Zak just fell to the ground and laid
there. It was the only time no one laughed.
       One day, Zak decided to wise up, and quickly realized that not
only was he much larger than me, but that I was a far bigger loser
than he was. He knew he couldn’t take the other bullies out, but he
sure as shit knew he could get me to shut-the-fuck-up. It was just
before lunch, and I was in the bathroom getting ready to piss. As I’m
doing so, I hear foot-steps clomp behind me. They attempt to be
subtle, but it was clumsy to the point that even I wasn’t fooled by
it. I quickly zipped-up and darted around; and there before me stood
Zak. It was odd at first, because he didn’t look angry. He didn’t look
like anything.
       He never said a word. I don’t even think he breathed out. It was just
one punch to the head and I was down. In an instant I knew how
incredibly fucked I was. I don’t even try to get up. I knew I deserved
this, I knew I owed him, and that I could only pay in blood. I look up
into his eyes and they’re cold. He hits me again. And again.
       I try my best just to breathe. He kicks me in the stomach to let me
know I can’t. At this point I feel the only thing I can do is try my
best to find my happy place.
       I let everything go dark.
       I let the pain in.
       No words. Just silence.
       And then it stops.
       I don’t know what’s going on. The only thing I can see is a shadow
pummeling another shadow to all hell. I get up and become fully aware
of what’s happening. The giant had come in at just the right time and
saved my sorry-ass from a beating. There are no words. I can only let
relief swarm over me. I’ll never know how to thank him.
       “Thanks. Thanks a lot.”
       “For what?” He stares me down. I can’t even look up at his eyes. I
doubt he can ever see anything other than the top of my head.
       “You saved me from Zak.”
       “Zak was kicking your ass? You fucking pussy.”
       “No, you don’t understand, he got the jump on me. There was nothing I
could do.”
   â€œYeah, I saw the whole thing. He bitch slapped you a bunch, and then
you fell like a pussy.”
   I check myself out in the mirror and he’s right. Zak hadn’t beaten me
at all. I guess when you’re filled with enough preteen-angst,
everything seems like a tragedy. I look around the bathroom and try to
find Zak, but he’s nowhere to be found. The beast didn’t even touch
him. The only thing that had happened between them was that Zak had
become frightened at the sight of him and fled. I am left a fool.
   For the rest of the year, Zak’s torment continued. At times it even
became worse. Not only was it just me kicking him in the ass and
calling him a fag, but a good portion of the student body joined in as
well. For the last day of school, my class decided that he needed to
leave for summer on a high note, and dumped a bottle of syrup over his
head before pushing him out the door. It was the last time I ever saw
him. The following year, Zak had already moved onto another school. It
gave him a chance at a fresh start, but more than likely, just leaving
for more of the same from different faces.
   Thirteen-years later, and I still spend most of my nights regretting
what I did to that man. There was never an excuse for my actions. I
should have known that what I did to him was just as shitty as what
others did to me. I could try to justify my actions by blaming
others; but in the end I could have put an end to it. Not an end to
everyone else berating him, but I could have at least been one person
trying to make his day not-terrible.
       This was obviously the first person I would have to go out of my way
to apologize to. It had been too long already. Even if he wouldn’t
hear it, even if he shut the door in my face, he needed to know that I
truly felt sorry for what I had done.
       Getting his address was alarmingly easy. I guess people no longer
care what the hell they post on the internet. I packed up my bags with
what I deemed to be certain essentials, and I was ready to hit the
road. I walk outside and out to my car. I stare down at the handle,
and then back to my house. I realized at that point that it would
probably be the last time I ever viewed it. I then realized that if it
was the last time I viewed it, it would be the last time it ever
exsisted.
 It was over 12 years ago that those events happened, and I still
haven’t forgiven myself for them. There’s even been moments at night
where just the thought of what I did kept me up at night. I had to
apologize to him, even if it meant nothing to him. For all I knew, the
guy wanted to beat the shit out of me. For all I knew, the guy had
spent the last twelve years getting in shape just to beat the shit out
of me. I doubt it, but how the hell would I really know.
       I spent a couple of hours planning out exactly how to do this. I knew
I would have to find where he lived, and apologize to him personally.
This wasn’t the type of apology you just fired off to someone over
Facebookâ€"this needed to be face to face. However, I did unfortunately
have to use a bit of Facebook stalking to find his address. I felt
that if he knew I was coming, it would ruin a bit of the apology. I
wanted it to be a spur of the moment type thingâ€"even though it was
anything but.
       I learned that Zak now lived about a hundred and twenty miles south
from me. It seemed like a long way away for an apology over something
that happened twelve years ago, but if I had to do it. If nothing else
mattered during the last few moments, at least this would. I could die
happy knowing that Zak was dying with my apology.
       I headed out to my car with nothing more than a pack of cigarettes
and something to drink. I knew there were more people I would have to
contact, but I wanted to get this one out of the way as soon as
possible. I unlock my vehicle and step inside. With the key in the
ignition, I stare back at my house, thinking that this was possibly
the last time I would ever see it. I think of the memories that I had
inside those tiny walls and I take in a deep breath.
       As I drive along the highway, I begin to think of exactly what I’m
going to say to him. “Oh, hi buddy. Yeah, I know the last time we saw
each other didn’t go that great… but it was totally my bad.” This
seemed like a terrible ice-breaker, but nothing else was coming to
mind. Deep down I knew this was probably going to go terribly, and
that I was more than likely going to end up worse off than if I never
apologized. If there is a God, I doubt that he’ll smite me for not
apologizing to some guy that I made fun of when I was twelve.
       I also began to notice that nothing seemed like the apocalypse. I had
imagined that there would be at least some madness happening in the
streets, but you would think it was just another day as far as this
area was concerned. Could it be that I made the whole thing up? Was
nothing really happening? I turn on the radio and search for a news
channel. All that comes in is static, until I hear the faint whisper
of someone talking. As I strain my ears to listen, I can make out that
it is in fact a news reporter, and that the world’s end is getting
nearer. It seems as though the strange matter is slowly making its way
across the ocean, and still no one knows just how long the rest of the
world has. It doesn’t even appear that they know what all has been
wiped out.
       So much of my time driving was spent attempting to listen to the
radio, that I never even noticed when I made it to Zak’s town.  As I
strolled in, I stared aghast at the crumbling city that laid before
me. Well, crumbling was the wrong word, but it certainly looked
decaying at least. I wasn’t sure if the people and God had decided to
abandon it due to the end. Or, they had all decided long ago that it
wasn’t a city worth saving. With any luck, Zak would at least still be
here.
       It didn’t take long to find his house, as he lived on a main road,
and it was one of the few remaining houses that looked as if it was
being cared for. I pulled into his driveway, and sat. Staring at the
house with a worried intensityâ€"if I had any chance at all to leave,
now was my only time. I took a large breath, put on my best “fuck-it”
face, and got out of my car. The first steps were easily a solid pace,
but as I inched closer to the house I found myself slowing down. I
felt like a fool and an idiot.
   I knocked once on the door and waited. What answered sure wasn’t
anything that looked like Zak. I looked down at my feet and asked if
he was availableâ€"hoping the entire time that the person had no plans
of devouring me. She breathed heavily into my face and sloshed back
around to go find him. I continued my gaze downward and waited
patiently for him to arrive.
       “What do you want?” I look up, and it didn’t look anything like the
Zak I knew in middle school. This man was a chariot. It looked like he
had spent the last twelve years eating concrete. He also had to have a
good five or six inches on me. I had to choose my next words
carefully.
       “I’m sorry I called you a fag, Zak.” Smooth. This will go great.
       “What?”
       “I said… look, can I come in?”
       He moves aside, and I step into his house, although it felt more like
a model home instead of an actual place to love. Not a goddamn thing
was out of place. I wasn’t sure how to even move about the place.
       Zak leads me to the living room, and I sit down and try to explain.
       “So you don’t remember me?”
       “Not really.”
       “Eight grade? We went to school together. I was fatter back then.”
       “Jack?”
       “Yeah.”
       “Oh, how goes things?”
       “Well, it’s the end of the world, so that’s a bummer.” I wasn’t quite
convinced that he remembered me, but the sarcasm filling the air made
it hard to decipher anything.
       “Yeah, it’s kind of depressing out there. I saw a woman getting
beaten by a mob for her groceries.”
       “Really?”
       “No. Nothing has changed at all.” Zak then got up and began to head
for the kitchen. He took every step as if it were rice paper under his
feet. Every move he made was deliberate and planned out. I had to yell
from the living room for him to hear me.
       “Well, listen. Back when we were in middle school together, I used to
pick on you a lot. I would kick you in the ass, and call you a fag. It
was pretty hurtful of me, and I wanted to apologize.”
       He looked at me and took every word in, reading between the lines of
every syllable. Zak just glared at me as he tried to process the
information. As he reeled it all in, his eyes began to light up and he
smiled.
       “Oh, Jack! Yeah! I remember you now! Wow. I can’t believe it’s the
end of the world, and I’ve got you coming to my house and apologizing
to me!”
       We sat down in his living room and discussed our lives up until then. This took me all of five minutes, but it seemed that Zak had lived quite an interesting life outside of our little town. I guess the story goes that after he left, he moved to a different city and decided he wasn't going to deal with any of “dumb rednecks” as he put it. He bulked right the fuck up and taught himself how to fight. Once he graduated high school, old Zak decided to join the air-force and travel around the world for free. If I had been paying more attention, I'm sure I his degree in something-or-other would have also been fascinating.
   Not that I was enthralled by his self-masturbating stories, but I came here with one purpose, and then I needed to head off to sort the rest of my problems. There was something else that always bothered me though.
   â€œSo... are you gay?” Was what came out of my mouth, interrupting his Rambo-esque adventures through Iran, His mouth draped open and his eyes seemed to bug out at me. I felt his silence answered my question. Seemed like a good a time as any to head off.
   â€œWell, look. I really need to be heading off.” I said, as I get up from the chain, and inch my way closer to the door.
   â€œYeah, well listen, man, it was great to see you again. We should hang out again sometime.” It seemed at this point he was only saying this to be a gentleman. I got the vibe that he was ready to punch me in the face for the second time in my life.
   â€œI don't know, the last time we hung out it didn't end too well for us.” This was my attempt at referencing the fight between us. But he just looked at me like an idiot.
   â€œWhat on Earth are you talking about?”
   â€œYou really don't remember?” Zak glares at me. “It was when we got into that fight back in middle school. You beat me up, and then that really huge kid came in and scared you off?
   Zak looked at me long and hard, but it didn't seem as if any of those words meant anything to him. He sat back down in his seat, and looked up at me.
   â€œThat wasn't me.”
   I laugh. “Of course it was, I remember it clear as day. I decided to stop making fun of you after that. “
   â€œNo, that never happened, and you made fun of me up until I left school.” Zak's eyes widened, as he recalls what actually took place. “Oh, yeah! It was Justin! Justin beat the shit out of you!”
   I scoff at the audacity of his claim. “No, dude, it was you that beat the shit out of me. You beat me up, and then that guy came in... God, what was his name?... He came in, and he ran off like a girl.”
   I can see it in Zak's eyes that he did not take kindly to being called a girl. He looked as if all three years of middle school came rushing back to him in an instant. “No, Jack. It was Justin that knocked you around. I distinctly recall being outside the bathroom as it happened. Also, the idea of Charlie... his name is CHARLIE... coming in to save you isn't sounding right, either. No, as it so happened, Justin beat the shit out of you, for being a “fag” just like me, and he was expelled in the following week. I figured getting your ass kicked would have knocked some sense into you and perhaps allowed you to be a human being to someone, but I was wrong on that!”
   I took it all in, some of his story was starting to make sense to me. I can now place Justin's face on my attacked instead of Zak's. It was also no wonder I couldn't remember Charlie's name, as I had never even talked to the guy, much less get rescued by him.  As I take all of this, it became rather obvious I had offended Zak, and he no longer wanted anything to do with me. Maybe it was his facial expressions expressing this idea, or maybe it was him physical shoving me at his home. Whatever the case, it was clear I was done here.

Quote from: Cowboy Bebop;1771775I like it. The premise reminds me of the ending of Cat's Cradle.

I have (sadly) never read that. I've been reading "Atlas Shrugged" and "The Picture of Dorian Grey" to get inspiration. Oh, and "The Idiot's Guide to String Theory".

Quote from: Pop-Tart;1771648Nice concept.

As for the style... if you're looking for feedback... I don't know.. something's tripping me up. Paragraphs don't break right or something. Can't really put my finger on it.

Also, (and this is just me) I'm a big proponent of never overusing the same word in a paragraph... even if it means going to thesaurus.com and looking for alts. Or even omitting a word if the word doesn't add to the context. You used 'essentially' 3 times in the second paragraph. Popped out at me for some reason.

Like the story though. Keep it going!

Thanks. I've been trying to just get the story going. Ive been having a hard time writing this for some reason, so I've been typing out the beginning over and over to see where I get.

Thanks for the feedback, guys. I wasn't sure if I should bother with this or not.

So I decided to try writing again or whatever. Here is a small sample of something I'm working on. Whatever.

Goo.

Chapter One.

   Well, it's the end of the goddamn world. Okay. This is something I can handle. I can wrap my head around the idea that in just a short amount of time, the entire world will cease to exist. I imagine a normal person would be freaked out about the whole situation. However, this just isn't the case for me. For two reasons. One; there's a reason why in your typical disaster movies they always show a major city being destroyed. It's because that's the only possible way the apocalypse is in anyway interesting. Which brings me to point number two: the end of the world is painfully dull. Once again I feel it's the fault of Holly-Wood, but how can you not feel disappointed about the fact that instead of giant fuck-off aliens, you're left with nothing but tiny particles of matter slowly dominating all of civilization? Let me explain.
   I guess the story goes that some big shot scientist decided it would a great idea to attempt to make strange matter. What this stuff is, essentially, is matter that can “take over” other kinds of matter. Essentially, this shit turns shit into itself. Buildings will eventually turn into strange matter, the air will eventually turn into strange matter, and even your goddamn dog will turn to strange matter. This is a major problem. The good news is, the strange matter moves at a much slower rate than the scientists predicted. So instead of the world ending in a time-frame they can conceive; they essentially have no idea when the fuck it could happen. The bad news is, not only do they not know when it's finally going to all end, but there's no way to possibly stop it. How the fuck would you even try? At least, that's what I've been able to understand so far after reading a couple of articles on Wikipedia. Once again I must reiterate that I live in the middle of nowhere, and the people out here have decided it's just best to ignore the whole “end of the world” situation.
   Except “ignoring it” is probably the wrong expression to use. I should say “those poor fucks don't know what hit 'em”, because I also forgot to mention that not only do I live in a small town, but I live in a small town where ninety percent of the population consists of the elderly. You would have no idea that every single atom in the universe is about to turn into goo any day now. Hell, the news last night ran a piece about the oldest living member of the city turned one hundred and two. I don't doubt that the reporters know what the fuck is up, but I guess they don't want the elderly to panic. Can you imagine what three-thousand decrepit people all collectively shitting themselves would be like? I bet the reporters sure as hell did.
   Everyone else in town seems to be in a state of denial as well. Or they're just ignorant about the whole situation, I'm not really sure. I tend not to talk about them, as they're all so wrapped up in their miserable lives, it's become impossible to converse about anything. I know that sounds mighty foolish for me to say, but if you lived here I'm certain you would understand.
   So what exactly does a man of my meager status do during the shit-storm that is the end of the world? Nothing. I do best to stay informed of the situation through various on-line media outlets, but last I heard the goo hasn't even hit the states yet. Leaving me time to finish doing fuck-all.

I looked up this Rand Paul guy:

QuoteIn cases of rape and incest, he opposes abortion.

Oh jeez.

QuoteHe has proposed securing the border by an underground electric fence and helicopter stations

Yes. But I liked the idea of burning money in giant trash cans, thus inhibiting the sight of illegal's.

QuotePaul opposes same-sex marriage, but believes the issue should be left to the states to decide.

Silly fags.

QuotePaul supports the Second Amendment to the United States Constitution and would oppose all gun control legislation.

YOU AIN'T TAKIN MA GUNS, AND YOUS AIN'T TAKIN MA BIBLE.

QuotePaul supports the legalization of medical marijuana.

Well, he won my vote.

Quote from: Dicklick McGee;1750733Ohhh! Well, while yer at it, here's my stuff. This is not all of it by far, just the albums and EPs I actually finished.

http://reospeedhonkey.webs.com/stuff.html

this one
http://www.mediafire.com/?n42gmyzgjot

and this one
http://www.mediafire.com/?hzmmy0dn5td

are me, shasta, f8l, maybe tamale/rccola/tritoch, and maybe burritoclock, and a shitton of other people

Any of that shot caps lock? Cause that was next on my list

Quote from: PEYOTE;1750421were you also writing a book at one point in time?

Yeah. I got about eighty four pages in before I gave up. I only have a physical copy now, so I'm not about to retype that shit. It sucks, anyway.

Oh, these take longer to upload than I thought, so I'll get around to uploading more when I'm not so lazy. WHETHER YOU LIKE IT OR NOT, GRANDPA.

This is a bunch of shitty music I did when I was younger. It was made by mostly me, but I often collaborated with people you've never heard of. I know Cableshaft requested this stuff, but I figured maybe (doubtful) other people might enjoy these as well. It was all under different names and different periods of my young life. But let's get one thing straight: almost all of it is terrible. There's maybe two or three good songs in this whole fucking thing.

MC Shasta: 2002-200?

This was the first thing I ever did (aside from short songs when I taught myself how to use acid). I would mostly scour the net looking for samples I could rip off, and haphazardly throw them together to from a song. I don't know how long I went on doing this, but I would guess until 2004 or 2005. What's included in this RAR file is two "albums" and a bunch of assorted songs.

http://www.mediafire.com/?jdmlw3qzjnz

The Goddamn Honky 2005-2009

This is pretty much MCShasta with a guitar. I would record shit, and then try and make ambient music. Then one day I decided to switch over to ambient/drone. This stuff is probably better than MC Shasta, but not by much. This RAR comes with two albums and two songs. EXCITING!

http://www.mediafire.com/?ktmmdwygdyr

But SHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAASTACLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLOCK, what do I do with them?! I don't give a shit. Download 'em, don't download, write tattoo the musical notation onto your dick and fuck them into your son for all care. I'm just throwing this stuff out into the big ol' webworld.

Quote from: Troy McClure;1746405Cast of Superbad

This is horseshit.

Rose McGowan is pretty bad.

People from other countries call stuff different than other countries. Fuck.

Quote from: SoBe Clock;1744640Hello Shasta.

Rello. I let my dog say hello. My dog is scooby doo.

Quote from: RibsClock;1744568Real doom metal you can almost hear the bass player! But yeah maybe you should try breaking out into longer movements and sneaking in a solo here and there.

I always thought there should be a metal version of this song, maybe a little bit like in the style of the opening of Judas Priest's Lochness. Kind of seems like it would need both another guitarist and a bass player to do it justice though, but you get what I mean.

Yeah, I usually add little bits to each riff so it sounds different. A lot of timw our songs usually do become jams.

I guess we sort of sound like early Boris. But I'm more influenced by the melvins, electric wizard and sunn O))).

I doubt Lopez will be getting kicked off the air. I'm sure plenty of 45 year old housewives will still watch him.

Quote from: RibsClock;1744468lol no I was talking about your band. Are you saying something is missing from the arrangement or from the band itself?

Yeah, I mean, it seems that way. We're only a two piece (so no bass), and I have no idea what order I should play anything. Almost all our songs just follow this pattern.

Intro
Riff 1
Riff 2
Riff 1
Riff 3
Riff 2
Riff 3
Riff 4

Or something like that. Again, maybe it's just me because I play them everyday.

Quote from: RibsClock;1744418How do you feel about the group?

As in my band? I like it, but I write all theriffs,so I'm biased. I don't know. I really need to learn how to arrange songs.  It really seems like something is missing from them.

If you're talking about the band Doom, I've never heard them. I was talking a out the genre of doom metal.

I guess I just feel that way because I wrote it. But I went back and read those two articles I wrote for the webzine and found them to be abysmal.

Quote from: RibsClock;1744302Hot piss, can you link any?

Also welcome back nigga

Doom wad probably the wrong word but that's the best word I could think of. It's certainly heavy. We haven't recorded anything yet, but we should be soon.