Apopthelema Entry 8 Part 1 by Kyle Nonneman

Apopthelema Entry 8 Part 1 

by Kyle Nonneman

[Note: this was composed in prison where proof-reading facilities are notoriously bad. Please don't hold that against the author. You can contact Kyle through the address listed at the end of this entry.]

PRURIENT - FROZEN NIAGRA FALLS
Brain damaged worthlessness. The muttering sounds of a sell out victim of child molestation who now yearns to press his lips to the groins of still innocent children, so he can taste what he used to taste like, before he sold his flesh out in service to the greater depravities of his master and became a burnt out husk. A traitor pretending to be something of value, providing the inspiration and instruction for others to follow in the wretched path he has taken towards perpetual aesthetic whoredom.. You listen for moments to the leaking grey dust and cliches .The silent explosions of powerless emo-violence electronics beating a sampled drum ring modulated through a rectum noise gate to the sound of mother's urine. Acoustic qualities that don't reach out to anything but a maudlin void of pedantic failure , the sounds of a subculture so dead inside and without purpose it has chosen this false profit as its messiah. 

(it should also be noted that Prurient has become a born again christian and all the lyrics on this lp are pro christian jesus freak shit..)
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PLEASURE LEFTISTS-SELF TITLED DEBUT LP
paint by numbers Disintegration of Unknown Pleasures through the hands of a dull uninspired hack guitarist provides the backing track for some wretched skank that sounds like Diamanda Galas with Down Syndrome on pain pills. Or a toothless harelipped crack whore after a stroke doing Cocteau Twins Karoke... The drooling mumblings of a deaf girl choking on her tongue. This is like an all girl goth version of The Kids Of WIdney High. Layla Gibbons loves this band so i should have known better. Layla Gibbons tricked me once before by comparing Angie's Turning lp to early Chrome.
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COUGH-STILL THEY PRAY

This band is basically Burning Witch with their balls cut off! It sounds like some shitty bedroom DSBM project trying to go legit by crossing over into indie garage rock. Overly discernible riffage that's blatantly derivative Primitive&Deadly/Glider worship. The whiny bitch vocalist for this band sounds like his last gig was playing in a middle school Linkin Park cover band and the guitarist sounds like hes just doing emo pastiches of Earth/Jesu/ riffs with the occasional shitty digital preset factory default effects at the end of the jam because he cant solo very well. The guitars never build into anything fully crushing, they just noodle around and hint at it.

Like the careful hesitation marks on a teenage cutter trying to freak out his parents never actually carving through anything vital. This is the type of shit posers that can't handle true doom spend time seeking out because they can't understand the lyrics or it's loud or too distorted , and all that prattle., Those arent valid criticisms.It's like listening to an immature pedophile complain about sex with an adult woman. Your immature and fucked up in the head and you have a little dick, so you manifest your pathetic insecurities by fucking children because healthy developed adult women scare you and intimidate you . Just like the people who listen to false metal a.k.a radio rock. Real metal is too extreme and you can't understand the words so you stick with the kiddy shit.

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NASH THE SLASH-DREAMS&NIGHTMARES

Nash was a cult surrealist composer most active in the late 70s/early 80s. An antecedent to the current work of Christopher Young and Brian Reitzell. He just died recently. His work was a deranged cross between the psychedelic prog you hear on Italian horror soundtracks & the sound of Conrad Schnitzler outtakes being tortured by Coil. Plus there's  a lot of bizarre violin work in the tradition of Erich Zann.

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PASYSAGE D'HIVER-KRISTALL&ISA

Lofi Tascam necromancy summoning drowning waves of cryptic distortion accented by cold winds of static. Haunted by obscure paralocrian melodies buried like a still fuckable corpse in an avalanche carved out by tormented indecipherable swedish vocals. Exsanguinating into primitive dark ambiance. Than rising again from the cold wastes to scream in anguish against the world of the living as a mournful acoustic guitar is played in a futile effort to silence the screams from the grave. Only to be overtaken by darkness.

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SCORPION VIOLENTE-THE RAPIST

Michael Gira said that electronic music post Kraftwerk was like sex with 10 condoms.This is more forced&unlubricated. Rythmic proto power electronics like Intrinsic Action with a subtle early Sheffield groove. Minimalist beatbox/analog synth setup. Cold sadistic vocals. This is that rare 'Seconds too late' /Konduktor sound few can pull off correctly. Following in the honored tradition of Lille Roger,Cloister Crime and November Novelet. essential.

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More to come:

WWW.APOTHELEMA.BLOGSPOT.COM

 You can contact Kyle at:
 Kyle Nonneman
#16534211
SRCI
777 Stanton Blvd
Ontario OR 97914-8335

You can also see a profile and have e-contact at:
http://www.writeaprisoner.com/Template.aspx?i=z-16534211

I'm Mykel Board, and I post for Kyle because no one else will. If you're interested in my own ideas, you can read me at: mykelsblog.blogspot.com

Apopthelema Entry 5 Part 1 by Kyle Nonneman

[Note: this was composed in prison where proof-reading facilities are notoriously bad. Please don't hold that against the author. You can contact Kyle through the link listed at the end of this entry.]

POSTED Monday, Oct 2, 2016

(A Eulogy For Rio Vance)

{Fans and Supporters of Apopthelema are all greatly encouraged to link/share and repost this to the Rio Vance (portland oregon) facebook page & her website riovance.com  &email it to her directly blameitonriovance@gmail.com ,she needs to read this, she needs to know how many people are aware of how diseased she is. Help drive the stakes into the heart of this psychic vampire}

"THE BRUTAL REALITY AND PAIN OF KNOWLEDGE..."-SOTOS
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"I SAW A MAN CRY ONCE , DOWN ON HIS KNEES IN THE CORNER OF A DARKENED CELL AND HIS PAIN MEANT NOTHING TO ME"-GIRA
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Rio Vance is a septicemic succubus inoculating us all with the toxin of her pestilence. Shes just like all the other failed fucking artists with so much potential shit out like an addict twitching in withdrawal.

She has me backed up against the walls of her post traumatic nihilism. Face smashed into unforgiving & incomprehensible perpetually mutating boundaries. Her love is a corrosive acid bath. She taints every life she touches with her poisoned ego. She used to be the remission to my diseased psyche. Now she is the disease . Infecting it with the mindless devotion of a cerebral parasite burrowing its way down into the depths of emotional repression. Ripping away the mask and revealing the skull beneath the skin. Peeling back the veil of secular reality like an addict puncturing an abscess. Bursting with stench. Like the Chicago casualty with her polaroids. She lives a meaningless life whose true value&purpose wont be actualized until shes dead to this heathen earth. Day by Day too broken inside to face the horrors of a waking existence in this world of shit. She tries to kill the memories but they all come cracking back to the surface. Smoke Ghosts freed from their glass chambered cage by the fire ignited by her despair. Smoke ghosts rise up from the stem possessing your body with demonic malignancy. In this apocalyptic new dark age my goal is to bring about the end of her world. From room 101 to the spirit of 1349. The counselor playing good cop tells her its just like being tickled. You cant help but laugh & secretly want to laugh again. Even if you don't want to admit how rough it was. If you follow the punchline of that cruel joke like the trackmarks on a junkies thigh,you realize were all cruelly bound in determinism to the entropy of our species. Trying to seek out a rational explanation for all this.... Becomes a struggle as desperate as the vehement claims she makes denying ever having an orgasm... Never mind the twitching serpents tongue crawling with reptilian cruelty past her smack deadened sex drive. Screams and whimpers summoning a knock at the door of the Joyce. Unfolding flowers. Rose petals crushed against unforgiving walls of muscle . Burning with fissures expanding further. Blooming into great heights of throbbing pain . My teeth sink into the soft folds.

Like the sutured petals of a perforated rosebud.

"THEY HAVE TO DENY THEMSELVES ANY LASTING PLEASURE,&WHEN THEY FALL IN LOVE, THEY DESTROY THERE LOVER OR ELSE TRANSFORM THEIR LOVE INTO DISTASTE & DESPAIR. SO ARTISTS TEND TO LOVE EITHER OBJECTS OR PEOPLE WHO RUN AWAY FROM THEM.SO THE FEMALE ARTIST REJECTS THE GOOD MALE ARTIST" -Acker