Everyone, I know I promised you a review of the March 30th Vienna show this week, but something has come up, and I'm sorry but I can't meet that demand.

I have been given the opportunity to attend a secret underground art/performance/resistance gathering this weekend -- it will require that I leave Los Angeles for several days, where I will then meet with like-minded individuals at a secret location in the California desert, where we will then meet and congregate to embarace our common views and way of thinking, and perhaps even begin to fan the burning embers of the coming Revolution.

My only hope is that I have the pleasure of meeting Neil Czerno while there, and that I make it out alive. I've heard word of these expeditions before. It's not always pretty, and not everyone has the stamina to make it through. But goddamit, sometimes a cause is more important than an individual person, and their safety.

I kindly ask Maise or Iris to post a review of the show in my absence. I will not return until Monday, and I suspect any outside communication -- to the internet or otherwise -- will be difficult, if not downright impossible.

However, I will not leave you alone. I would like to take this opportunity to introduce the first of what will be an ongoing series of Protest Poems here at Wearing These Chains. Words of power, strength, and passion, crying out for change in this dark world we live in.

You have a voice. Wake up and use it. Art is resistance. Wake up and give a shit.

this sheen of truth
a protest poem by gabriel miller

beauty reborn
feed the machine with little boys and guns
and watch them burn

we don't need your empathy
we don't want your sympathy
we don't need your fields of green
just fill up my oil machine

the red and the white
and the youtube
videoscreen of the dying dream
you always said
so bad
too sad
but you never got mad
(i remember when we all had a choice)
you just let it go by

you want to have it all
watch the pawns fall like a shakespeare
the shame of america
like the navajo, one with the land
we must make a stand

oil fields
gush like tears
but you're only crying

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Okay, bitches. It's time to lay some shit down on the line here.

I've been quiet these past couple days since the NIN show/Jerome near-tragedy (and unlike Meathead, I won't bother with a third-rate joke post about Jerome's almost-passing. No, here at WTC we have a very hard and strict "No Worse Than Second Rate" rule, so Meathead can shove his new, improved, shittier and ass-suckier sense of humor right up his fugly blondeboy beanpole ass).

I've been quiet for a number of reasons. They are, in no particular order:

1. The shock at seeing M.T. Reznor in such a fragile state at realizing Jerome might be in serious trouble.

2. The Spiral entrance not being a complete waste of fucking time after all.

3. Seeing my former best friend and bandmate, Alex, at the NIN show.

4. The Pants.

Now I know Dierdre's already revealed her true hater self with her previous post, but I think everybody that was at the show Friday night knows what I'm talking about.

The shiny... the slick... the beckoning... vinyl PVC pants of Michael Trent Reznor.

And let's not even go into his eyeliner.

I've not been a big proponent of the new buff macho Trent. If I wanted to hang with frat boys, I'd go to a fucking Coldplay show. My biggest fear was that the Trent of old, the Trent of the "Sin" video (and FUCK "Closer", my little bitches, "Sin" is the ultimate NIN Video Experience™) had gone. It seemed that Clean & Sober Trent meant every live show from here on out was going to be like watching Gerald McRaney at a fucking "Major Dad" reunion.

But then came the pants.

It's amazing how much a little bit of shiny plastic can change a man, or a fan... One moment I was standing there, ready for Nine Inch Nails to take the stage, annoyed by Alex's incessant pogoing bullshit (if any of you folks at the show saw the tard with the manic panic red hair jumping up and down before the set, that was Alex), and then... valhalla.

Though the show ended abruptly, everyone was alright, but the allure of those pants did not stop with the concert. They carried me into a new realm of experience, a realm of myself.... a realm where the words kinda i want to finally made sense.

This poem is for the pants.

Sin's Shiny Slickery
words by Gabriel

So smooth
beckoning, the reckoning
everything is about to change

pull deep inside my secret place
your shiny naughty gloves
(just like mine)
and the clouds of my indecision part

kinda i want to feel
the things i said i never felt
kinda i want to be
the thing i said i'd never be
and if hell is where it takes me
then at least i'll come
to heaven

voice from the past
waiting all these lonely nights
oh, so alone
(did you always know this would come to be?)

now you take it all
everything i have to give
and the lies, lies, lies, lies
drip away from my mind like the sweat

on your brow
push it back
take it all

isn't this what we've always wanted?

kinda i want to feel
the things i said i never felt
kinda i want to be
the thing i said i'd never be
and if hell is where it takes me
then at least i'll come
to heaven

and before i die away
i want to strip away
the sinful shiny slickery
that our new pastor wore for us

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[Words_of_Misery: shame-entity]

words by Gabriel

i tried to keep myself from feeling all these things
god may hate the way i think and all it brings

mocking eyes that stare
mouths that shout their homo drone
never knew a place that i could call home

never say that i
am normal and okay
reject my sense of self
and everything i say
and all that's left is me

father, hard to please
you ran away
the words you always preached
now make sense another way

say your love is right
you've never felt this way
but how do i pray for you when you're gay?

never say that i
am normal and okay
reject my sense of self
and everything i say
and all thats left is me
pushed everyone away
alone, now who am i?


Posted by Gabriel in the_words_of_misery | Permalink | Comments (8) | TrackBack


[Words_of_Misery: Entropy]

words by Gabriel

and apathy
Dear God
What has become of me?

Never did I think
that this would be the place I would
Live in fear
and everything that's near
seems just to fade away

so fuck it
fuck you
suck it please
won't you?

take it away
take it all away

the days elongating
into every night
mare that i still scream

you were the only one
you were the honest one
that never said a word
just so your promises
would never go unheard

did you really think you'd get away?
that i'd never wise up
(that i'd always want to shut up?)
well that's not the man I've come to be
who is this skull
that grins right back at me?

so fuck it
and fuck you
and most of all
shove it
right in your...

(wouldn't you like to know?)

take it all away
take it all away

aluminum dawn
i'm not the only one
that saw you fade away
and now that heaven's gone
i'll close my eyes again
and cry and pray for rain

you were the only one
you were the honest one
that never said a word
just so your promises
would never go unheard

but you'll still know the truth

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[How_Dumb_Are_You_Fuckers, Part_Deux]

Well today brought a nin hotline announcement and subsequent topic posting on echoing the sound regarding the nine inch nails themed branding of the upcoming Game Shark Media Manager for PSP from Mad Catz Interactive.

In a nutshell, this application is something that you install on your PC (no Mac support mentioned) that lets you organize your media, games, files, etc., that you have on your PlayStation Portable. You know, kinda like what iTunes does for the iPod, but we’re talking about a Sony product here so of course you need a third party application to make real use of what’s a basic functionality. But I digress…

Apparently, consumers are going to be able to buy a Nine Inch Nails version of this product, which will feature prominent use of the NIN logo on the packaging, and feature some “exclusive” live footage with the device when you buy it.

Now, as the one intelligent ETS reader on those boards pointed out (his name is OsseusLabyrint; who knew??), Trent’s recently made comments about how lame Jimmy Page was for letting Cadillac use a Led Zeppelin tune in a Cadillac commercial (Trent's biting closing line was, “How much money does Led Zeppelin need?”) Well now, of course, we’ve got the NIN Branding tie in from Trenty McChange His Mind.

As much as I would love to bust into a major rant here about the utter hypocrisy of this, that some people would agree with, some disagree, and Dierdre would simply not care about because it’s not directly part of Trent’s music, I thought I’d address some of the ETSers statements/questions/concerns instead (though for the record, TRENT’S A FUCKING HYPOCRITE):

1. This isn’t hypocritical of Trent at all; he did music for Quake (a/k/a Doom 2) That’s like the same thing, don’t you think, hmmmmm????

Yes, douche, he sure did. You know how that music was credited? Oh, let me check: MUSIC BY TRENT REZNOR, not Nine Inch Nails, fuckfaces! Was there a NIN logo on the packaging of the game? NO. Was it whoring out the identity of the band and using it to sell more product? NO. Would the average consumer have even KNOWN that NIN was involved with QUAKE? NO NO NO NO YOUR COCK IS SMALL NO.

So I guess it’s not the same thing, is it?

2. Sure, Trent complained about Bowie letting Microsoft use “Heroes” in an ad, but this isn’t the same thing as an Evil Corporation! Mad Catz is a homegrown, small, independent cool company!

Hey, ballsack – your frontal lobe called. It’s glad it left and it's never coming back. What Trent had said in a recent Kerrang interview was,

I constantly have to remind myself what the goal is. Should I say yes to that Microsoft commercial because I could use a new house? Or do I say no because this is something precious that would be tarnished if I did that… My feelings were hurt when I heard David Bowie's 'Heroes' on a fucking Microsoft commercial. It's like 'Why? Fuck!'"

Well maybe it’s just me, but I see NOTHING GODDAMNED WHAT SO FUCKING EVER in that quote about “Evil Big Bad Corporations” being a problem while “Fuzzy Bunny Independent Vendors” being a big thumbs up. Seems to me it was about the music being important, and not taking a paycheck if it would harm the nobility of the music. Well, when it comes to getting my Brand Spanking New PSP Complete With Nine Inch Nails Media Manager, I’m thinking the nobility of the music has been tarnished.

You may not think that, ETS readers, but that’s because you’re eating your own shit.

3. “Supporting games aint a sellout” [sic]. Trent and his crew have always been hard core gamers!

Okay, first things first. Did you read Queston #2? Are you eating your own shit? Okay good; now die.

Just because you numbskulls happen to be fans of the arena in which Reznor has decided to whore the NIN identity does not make it okay. I’m sure the 50 year old NIN fans out there would think it would be fucking AWESOME if Trent did start using his music to promote Viagra, as one of your suggested in some attempt to be “amusing”. There’s always going to be a crossover audience, jackhole, and not everybody is 14, lives with their parents, and spends all their time playing videogames. Most of us masturbate instead.

And just because Trent Fucking Reznor is a FAN of games himself does not make it alright, or “cool” for him to use the NIN logo in such a frivolous way! Hey, guess what – he drinks Beet juice! What about a NIN-branded juicer! What about a NIN-branded treadmill! Or, from the makers of Soloflex: the Happiness In Slavery Home Workout System? How’s that grab you? Sound good?

Actually, knowing you ETSers, it probably does.

Christ. I don’t even know why I’m so wired. I guess I should just sit back and be entertained by the sheer inane idiocy of the lot of you. But instead, I shall create:

How It Came To Pass
words by Gabriel

My father always said
Pregnant women
That did meth
Would have deficient children

For once that man was right

Zip, Bing, Secret Code, Smasho!
Fuck You.

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On the topic of some of your recent concerns, I thought there's some stuff that needed addressing right off.

Yes, it seems to be true that Dierdre has left Wearing These Chains. The details of what's happened lately needn't be displayed here any more than they already have.

She and I finally spoke earlier today; apparently Dierdre is planning on spending the rest of her summer vacation in Europe. I suppose it would have been hard for her to keep up with "all things gothemo from a san diego perspective" whilst in Europe in the first place, but... it's just me now. Don't worry, WTC will remain in business as usual. I'll be keeping her email in place for the time being as well -- you can get her at [email protected]. I know she liked hearing from all the readers, and it seems she's stilll active, fighting evil and Jesus, on the Echoing The Sound forums.

I must admit I'm somewhat shocked that she actually went through with it, and the apartment is awfully quiet without her constant loop of "physical (you're so)" from the other other room (speaking of which, I need a roommate now, so if anybody's interested drop me a line at [email protected]. The stereo in the living room is awesome, and the couches in the living room are pretty clean. It's a cool place, you'll dig it).

I wanted to say two more things: Jack and Cokes are AWESOME (they're fucking BEYOND even more powerful), and here is WTC's newest feature:

* * *

Yeah, I'm an easy going guy, for the most part. I've got my bands I dig, I've got some friends that are cool, I've got L'orangerie Stank; and sure, I may bust through a case of whip-its every now and then, but I think I'm pretty even keeled. Takes a lot to rile ole' Gabriel Miller.

But then there's some people...

[Episode I: Saturnine]
words by Gabriel

pleasure or pain?
the loathing or the lying?
horror beyond imagination

if ignorance were bliss
my dear, i'd drink the fountain
of your happiest happiness
for believe me
it would spring eternal

and you wear it well
your sense of self
that sycophantic sense of suck

shove your severed fingers
and your cowboy apocalypse destruction
in your fucking mouth
(oh little girl)
and give the children of Africa a break, honey
I think they've starved enough this year

and suck on our laughter
all the way down
all the way fucking down
as we burn
on the last days

of conscription's flame

the flame
the flame
the fiery flame
do you see it now?
do you hear it now?
its ruby rustle roar
alive on your tongue

That's all for this edition. This is Gabriel Miller, and I Hate Everyone.

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Somedays, you really wish you'd gone out and gotten shitfaced instead of coming home from class.

As most of you know, Dierdre and I are active over on the Echoing the Sound forums. We catch some shit from time to time, from the occasional hypocrite or misguided carnivore, but mostly the people there are good, intelligent people who are there to celebrate the work of M.T. Reznor (no matter how misguided he may be acting lately).

Well after Advanced Photolab I came home today to catch up on some work here on the site, only to find out that Dierdre, with no classes until the afternoon, had spent all fucking day long stirring up trouble on the boards with some guy claiming to be Jesus Christ (the link above is for one of the members-only forums; my apologies. If you're not registered, I recommend it despite the bumpy road it can be).

As she's known to do, D fired up Jesus, a couple other folks, and was acting like a total obnoxious, hateful woman on a warparth. To top it all off, it then seemed that one of the moderators put a Filter on the name of our site on the boards.

What does this mean? Well it basically meant that if you typed "Wearing These Chains" on echoing the sound and published a post, you wouldn't see "Wearing These Chains"; you would see "Dumbfucks From Behind The Orange Curtain". Fortunately, it seems this filter was short-lived and has since been removed, but readers of both Wearing These Chains and ETS may have already noted that this is the second filter Dierdre has instigated; the first was a few weeks ago: if you type in her name "Dierdre" it is instantly changed to "buttplug" -- and this one IS still in effect.

EDIT: It seems the powers-that-be at ETS are WTC readers; in response to this post The Dierdre Filter™ has been updated to now change her name to "cervixlump" rather than "buttplug". While they get a +2 for inventiveness, invoking cancer earns them a -6 on the Clever Scale, netting this new filter a total score of -4. Better luck next time, Mods, and Thanks For Reading Wearing These Chains!

Yes, granted, buttplug is a pretty lame name-calling choice, and I really wish they'd tried a bit harder (at least a minor-league "fucktard", c'mon, but "buttplug"? What's next, "poopy pants"?), but that's not the fucking point! The point is that when we started Wearing These Chains, I thought it was to spread a love and appreciation for the majesty and genius of one man: Michael Trent Reznor. It was not meant as a place for hate (though I guess I may be in the minority of NIN fans there), and it was not meant as a place for grandstanding bullshit. (I mean seriously Dierdre; that whole "I am impervious" nonsense you put into your Christ exchange? What the hell was that about, anyway?)

I don't know why you're doing what you're doing, and I don't understand it. I don't know who you even are anymore... and now my own apartment feels like some place I'm not supposed to be, and I'm seeing things I really shouldn't see.

I don't know what to do, Dier, I really don't. And even if you were home, I wouldn't be talking to you about it, because you'd just be in your room listening to "Physical" for the ten thousandth time. On the computer. Making more people hate you.

Maybe it's because you really hate yourself.


the lonely room

echoing the sound
the sounds of crucifixtion
that you have brought upon us
why do you stand so proud?
so strong
so (in)tolerable
you are the hate you breathe
(and breathe the hate you want to be)

i remember a dewy dawn
of sanctified perfection
insurrection to injustice
all for the love of purity

but you've burned it all away
you've burned it all away
your fist and your fight
and you make me want to hate again
this road can be so hard
when the traveller grows weary
but when I saw your face every day
it makes me want to scream hell's fury

don't you fucking know?
not what you are
but what you've become?
so hateful
such rage
I hold myself in temper's cage
so i don't strike out
to erase the one you have become

you can blacken the sky
with the poison of your mind's eye
but it won't get you any further
further from your deepest dark inside
but you've pushed so hard away
with your jokes and your lies and your
pithy innuendo
all i know for sure
is that i won't be there
on the day that we all
have to say

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[Words_of_Misery: the_day_the_gothemo_died]

I still cannot believe the tragedy that has befallen the nine inch nails community these past few days. The horror of the spiral fan club does not abate with time, and it's impact does not lessen.

Trent, I know you are listening, out there on the waves of the cyber-ethos. I hope this poem reaches you.

words by Gabriel

always so strong
the darkened connector of feelings
within you
upon us all

somehow you knew
yes, you knew it all along
you would steak your claim
against the rotten meat of corruption
and the purity was all
that the flesh could maintain

until today
this is the day the gothemo died

how could you have done this
and thrown it all away?
your everything
was my everything
was our everything
like yawning desolation's future

my will is blind
and the words you say are now
is this your wish?
because you're broken now

you've thrown it all away
they never did betray
all along it was you

revealed today
this is the day the gothemo died

but don't let it
this hatefuck
go undone
don't take all the everything
into yourself and run
things can change
they're not always the same
but you must believe
you must believe

in yourself

so if this is all
that's meant to be
i say goodbye to my past
(goodbye to my everything)
farewell, adieu
mon cheri

never forget today
the day the gothemo died

never forget today
this is the day

the day the gothemo died

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So okay. I may have been a bit hasty.

I know some folks got pissed at my column commenting that Trent's recent song selection was leaving a bit to be desired, and over at Echoing the Sound and even our own comments section here some people were getting downright pissed. But I'm just now recovering from having seen nine inch nails at SOMA this past Monday and Tuesday, and I can admit it: I was wrong.

Of course, my joy at the shows may have something to do with the fact that on Monday, Trent jumped on our heads during "closer". And I was able to touch Him, in all His glory. And I was able to sing into the microphone ("You get me closer to God" and "Wearing these chains, motherfuckers!!" Let's hope they hadn't shut the mike off at that point! Would be awesome to hear that on a bootleg!) And then I was able to disconnect the microphone and stick it in my pants.

Yes, that's right. Monday night, I got Trent Reznor's microphone. And not just one he threw in the crowd. The "closer" crowd surfing microphone.

This is in addition to a setlist that covered the spectrum of his genius, from a heart-breaking "Something I Can Never Have" to perhaps the most-powerful-yet version of "The Line Begins To Blur" I've had the pleasure of hearing, booted or otherwise. It was fucking glorious, and he was a man afire. Electric. Dominant. Absolutely in control and wielding his power and fury with abandon.

I really can't come up with words to describe the impact these two shows had upon me... as such, I've decided instead to express my feelings in the medium that has always suited me best: my poetry.


your glittering gift of glistening amplitude
reflecting on 5_30_05

Shure Beta 58A
this is the power that you wield
within your hand
within your fist
(power's kiss, most seductive kiss)
it takes your fury
your anger, your heart
and makes you loud
(it makes you strong)

no, this can never be too long

the line has stretched eternal
though foe and friend
have all aligned as one
for your glory
chairs folding like our morals
and though I may be sweating
inside my vinyl cage of purity
i'll kiss the side of heaven for a taste of your

stand above
looking down
we're slickened with sound
all your little piggies
overcome by our teeming, swaying adulation
(right into the center of the storm)

fetal, you are lifted
up above, reborn
rebirth and the cycle
itself begins to blur
i touch your flesh
(this tiny touch of perfection)
and there is the chalice
the sceptre of your powers

i reach out and utter
my meager demonstration
("you get me closer to God?"
you are the one that's closer now)
and I scream out the name
my darkstar moniker
and then a simple push
twist and release
and the chalice comes free
down into the sea
of the love and the joy that has brought it all down upon you
oh Holy One

So I hide this treasure away
into my secret place
of lovely joys
my vinyl cage where madness lies
and spirit it away

and now i cast my gaze
a leper man healed
i once was blind, my father

But Now I See


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[Words_of_Misery: 5_26_05]

It's been such a crazy last few days. After my last post critiquing TR's recent song selections, some of our brothers and sisters in arms over at Echoing The Sound took offense and linked over here with feelings and emotions ranging from outrage, to fury, to anger, to scorn.

I tried to keep quiet through most of it, but it really made me realize how much we all share with one another, for even in the angry tirades there were words of love. Thank you for your understanding, Busanda, and especially to you, Beavette. This poem is for you both.

the darkest side of heaven

trying to reach my insides
to show you how i feel
(reach out)
until i cannot feel your gaze
only the heat of your twisted
fury and your furious
twisting heat
(what happened to all for one?)

this must be the shadow
that christ himself once spoke of
upon the battlements of faith
the shadow to which I give myself
and writhe and writhe and writhe
this must be the purgatory
the whippings and the beatings
when my only crime...

was this beating heart of broken feeling

glimmer on from blackness
glistening machine until perfection calls you home
(rumble and roar rumble and roar)
glimmer on from darkness
though neverwas
is nevermore

and the perfect face of water
is broken by the reaching hand of hope
of faith
of love
and we all stand together
in faith
in love
no matter what the enemy may try to
cast our way

there is no other way
so rumble on and rumble roar
this beating heart
this REACHING heart
this freezing heart

this beating heart of broken feeling

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