._ , , . *|, * _ _ -+--+- _. _|* _ || | (_](_) | | (_] (_]|(/, * ._| , , ._ . . . . . _ . . _ _ -+--+- _. |,. . _.;_/*._ _ |*. , _ _| _ _ _| \_|(_)(_| (_](_) | | (_] | (_|(_.| \|[ )(_] || \/ (/, (_](_)(_)(_] ._| ._| ._| A N O V E L B Y M A R T I E " M U R D S " M O O D ::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::: Chapter 11 Bankruptcy ::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::: (4/21/25 12:43 a.m.) "This is a New World Order. This is mind control! Katy Perry wants your girlfriends to drag you to the new Women's World Order show to trick you into thinking outside of your manliness. Don't believe me!? Why is Jeff Bezos' last name an anagram for zombie? You're going to go to the Katy Perry show and become a zombie, an anagram for Zombie Bezos. Look it up! Look at the letters. It's a mamogram for zombies. They're gonna be giving zombies mamograms at the show!" -Anthony Fantano (2025) (5/3/25 2:43 a.m.) FADE IN: =-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= -=-=- INT. MARTIE'S APARTMENT -- NIGHT -=-=- =-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= Martie "Murds" Mood, who just straight-up looks like an off-brand McLovin, sits at his computer, thinking he looks like Neo from the beginning of The Matrix, but resembling more of a degenerate, down-on-his luck gambler. That's too harsh. He's a good sort, fuck it. He's 34, so he's got some tread on those tires, or whatever they say. But, yeah, I don't know, the lights are out, some speedrun is on in the other room, he's listening to We're In This Together by Nine Inch Nails -- that comes up on his phone screen, 'cause it needs to be communicated to the audience somehow, 'cause this is a "script," you know? -- and like, Beez is stretching in his tree-bed and taking a gander at the folks on the street before going back to his slumber. And yeah, dude is just writing, you know? He's got a fancy keyboard that glows in the dark. He's got those two monitors and saves his eyes by having four tabs open across both screens in dark mode -- I mean, ya gotta! Anyway, he woke up at 10 p.m. -- after falling asleep after work, frantically waking up to apologize to a friend whose get together he missed, realizing the get together is in a week, going back to sleep -- and then downed a 12-ounce Red Bull and vibed out to tunes and the good-good 'til 2:43 a.m., at which point he pulled up the novel he was working on and jotted down this pedantic description in order to introduce the rest of the chapter in a semi-cohesive sense. (As if the rest of the book is "cohesive.") So, anyway, he found this bit for the penultimate chapter. He thinks it's a good idea. I'm not sure how his mummified face would convey this, but fuck it. Look, a segue: ON SCREEN (10/28/24 12:58 a.m.) EDITOR'S NOTE: The following has been lightly edited for concision and clarity. Hey, it's 12:52 a.m. ALSO, the band was the opposite of the stereotype. I didn't get fucked just 'cause I played guitar. In fact, we rejected that shit -- which is so funny in retrospect. But fuck it, I wasn't fucking Elliott Smith. I liked video games and my ### would beat my ass if I was fucking caught fucked-up underage. But then, the journalist life I'm describing...That shit was playing into a cliche. Uh...it's like opposites...get it? It's "storytelling." Suck a nad, bitch. (I'm sorry.) Remember to copy and paste all the texts you sent to yourself over the last...I don't know, three years lol. IT'S A PROJECT. Watch Game Grumps while you do it. Oh fuck! And I'm listening to Rosenstock while playing Rocket League -- Future is Dumb. I can't think of a future right now. Just like I couldn't think of a future when I was 18. Uh...do something with that. This dude said...On second thought, I'm not writing that out. Just listen to the fucking song fumabas. (You're not a fumabas...whatever the fuck that is. I meant dumbass. I'm-a go.) (10/28/24 1:37 a.m.) The climatic chapter should just be instructions on listening to a specific song. Like 3 Summers. That fits. That's some real shit. And it's like, "Hey... This is a book about music, go listen to the track. Words are words. Music is, you know, music." Also, this is texted to myself a million times, but I feared being a cliche growing up. Like, ####'s dad used to talk about his old band, and I got sick to my stomach thinking I'd grow up to be that dude. Uh, I think I'm safe from that. But still, there's like, something there. I don't know. I'm tired grandpa, WELL THAT'S TOO DAMN BAD. And now my AirPods just died, SON OF A BITCH. I just hit the spiffy. Also, the second half could possibly be served -- like an entree, bitch -- as a fucking briccolage, found document type shit. As in, it's a story made up of "relics" left behind this dead fucking dood, right? And like, maybe there's an email to ### from 2015 talking some shit, and then there's a bunch of text messages that tell long stories to friends, and obviously journal entries, emails never sent. It's like a video game...'cept its a book, bitch. Think House of Leaves -- yeah, I mean I didn't finish it, but that's like House of Leaves. I'm a genius. Look at me. I'm toasty. I just took a piss. Also, I was thinking about it, and like, this would be a way to...I don't know, I was thinking about the notion that Martie or whatever this dude's name is, just a 30-something journalist possibly named Matt -- JUST GET TO THE POINT, DICKWAD -- but it being allllll letters to people? That sounds like I'm about to commit seppuku. And like...nah, I'm saying like, at the beginning, "Oop, dead stoner, what a dipshit, shoulda salted the stoop, dumbass." And at the end it's like, "Oh wait, this dude isn't a cliche or whatever I first assumed, and like, look at that, everyone is their own galaxy or some shit, so maybe we should, like, stop bombing babies in Palestine...no? Okay, well, at least I felt good about something in this life through this fuggin' book. Hooray. I'm going to go punch children at the park, no i'm joking lolololol uhhhh 'ight." That also sounds like Her Story, or a video game. There's a "game" feel to that structure...Also its so 2000s, like found footage shit...Bro I'm a genius lhklfdsa;hjlkfdsjlkf; 'ight, I'm reading this shit on my phone -- it's 2:08 a.m... (10/28/24 2:08 a.m.) ...and i'm realizing that I fucks with this. I also think -- TWO THINGS REAL QUICK BEFORE I FORGET -- the briccolage idea allows me to present a case like I would a journalist; like, through documents and whatnot. And also, it lets me write in a ton of different styles. 'Cause I like the style I journal in. It's manic as fuck. But also, like, that can be a lot. I'm reading further up top on the couch, rocking back-and-forth like a maniac, and like, I'm fucking with it, but it's hard to keep up sometimes 'cause it's so breakneck. I'm reading a book right now. It's essays from a music critic. And he has chapters based on like, three super-long, drawn-out sentences & they use a fucking ambersand & it breaks up the text & it's kinda cool but & yeah, like it's fucking annoying and hard to read. That's why, it'd be cool to break up the different styles through whoever your addressing. When you address yourself, you sound like your brain is melting. But I sent an email to #### #### at the start of 2021 or so, and like, that totally has a different vibe. And when I send a text to my friends, it's a different mood. #### ##### at Forbes told me that I need to write like myself, and she really meant, write like you're talking to me and this other dude on Slack...while you slack off from fucking work. Yeah. But I can adapt my style based on the audience. And that's also a cool little, I don't know, journalist, detective sort of game that the reader can play while going through all these different documents from this one dude. Like, motherfuckers don't got media literacy. They take every word at face value. It's like, you can read the New York Times, but you gotta learn how to READ the New York Times, 'cause they got a weird neolib bent and constantly fucking suck at like, predicting what people will give a shit about, 'cause they're dorks in New York City. I know, I met one of them, he's a good friend of mine, lol. I just sniffed my cat, but also yeah, then people will be like, "Is the first half some 'ideal' version of this older dude's childhood? Is this dude just Emma but, uh, a trans man?" Or like, "Is the Emma stuff the honest stuff and this crazy-ass second half is just bullshit. WHAT DOES IT MEAN!?!?!?" Like... that's punk, dog. And I'll talk about hating Nazis, so that's ska, bitch. With ya bitch ass. I don't know. Go fuck yourself you pretentious cocksuck. (I'm sorry, you're a cool dood, dood.) Oh my God, I had my dick out over the toilet bowl and just wanted to run over to add one more thing: FUCK I DON'T REMEMBER. Uhhhhh...I was half joking, but now I can't remember. Fuck. it was something obvious -- OH! Just a small note: remember writing short stories on fucking early-ass Facebook? Or the dumb quizzes you'd post on MySpace? Or the random reviews you have around the internet? Like, it's cool thinking about the little artifacts of yourself you leave on the internet. I have a LA Noire guide on GameFAQs from 2011...bitch, you were in college, why no bitches? YOUTUBE VIDEOS!! You have fucking YouTube videos you can transcribe, or even create a sort of unfinished script for a future video where I critique my best vid, the MGS5 vid. That's a mammoth, dog. That shit's cool. Like, that's what's fun about this. So many different formats and ideas. Like why not put a 33-minute critique of Metal Gear Solid and the Cold fucking War in the middle of this. FUCK IT. It's rock-and-roll, baby. OK...Go listen to music you fucking animal, Jesus. ... Chuck Klosterman and French queers Sorry, I just didn't want to forget. I was playing Rocket League. Uh, this style is very reminiscent of Chuck Klosterman shit. And like, all the cool kids read Sex, Drugs, and Cocoa Puffs. Like in high school. And -- surprise! -- Chuck Klosterman is a music critic and his shit is about music and he was best known in the 2000s and, would you look at that, it's like kinda an homage. Not really. But whatever. And then I also thought of the dialogue: "Ah, crying clowns, I get what those French queers were getting at," which was a thought I had. I'm sorry, but then I was like, that's something #### would say, and so...I don't know, maybe funny dialogue that Isaac says out of nowhere. Like, dude's just sitting there thinking and suddenly says some nonsense like that. But also, I get it. Yeah...they're clowns...and they're crying. It's like life. It's a sad song and dance. And that's funny. Ha ha. Fucking French. Fuck Macron. EDITOR'S NOTE: The following hasn't been edited. *got a patch at a memorial day parade that has the words of a palestinian poet and academic that was killed by the idf, and it says "if i must die, you must live." and i remember pinning it on my sweatshirt and thinking, huh, i was never the dude in the school or the surrounding music scene to do the whole, pin punk shit to your leather jacket. I sometimes saw it as performative. I used to dress up like ned flanders, not cause i liked wearing that shit, but just cause it felt anti-conformity in these macho punk spots, or among people that thought they had something over me. Like how i sport super gay shit on rocket league and quietly dom the fuck out of these dork ass randos. I probably got that from andy. Just being a freak and then, whoops, also i'm sick at guitar. Like some dorky ass weezer energy bb. There's a thrill to that. But yeah, i pinned that shit on my soaking sweatshirt. It was pouring and i didn't bring an umbrella. Just my torn hoodie, jeans, socks, shoes. Marched like that, goddamn. The rain let up as we went. It started around world trade center and we went up to around east village, some park around there i think. I wasn't really paying attention. I was pretty fucking miserable -- i was there cause they invaded rafah. Red line my fucking ass. And like, the protest felt a little messy, just as a natural consequence of the rain and the police presence. They were fucking on one. I walked by an arrest. There were others supporting the woman, she was definitely younger than me, maybe a college student, who knows. I mean...i took my phone out and filmed a bit, but once i got a minute and saw that others were helping out, i kept going. Traffic was fucking pissed and the police were barking fucking orders and shit. Some dork drove by and screamed some zionist shit at a woman with a head scarf. She was letting that prick have it, stalking down the car and all. Tough shit. And eventually we go to a park and we stood listening to a few speakers. They would yell out, and the rest of us towards the front would shout out for the folks in the back. We read a message out from someone in gaza, obviously a friend of the person yelling out. (i think the cops could break us up if they rocked mics or anything, so we just relied on our voices.) the person said we were their only hope because we are in the center of the empire, in nyc. And we have means of pressure within that, i suppose he was implying. Which, yeah, it's true. But it hits when it's coming direct from the closest thing to hell on earth. Fuck. im bummed out. Anyway the shit's on my fridge and i pass it by all the time. Iddkdkdk, i guess i think about what "live" means and i hope i'm doing the living right or whatever. Anyway, if i gotsa die, you gotsta live. If i gotta die, you gotta live. Sounds like a early 90s hip hop song out of philly, lol. **2000s, dennis miller asked fat mike if conservatism is the new punk rock, and fat mike would have been justified to slap him in the face (alright dude, you can't say shit like it's an xbox live lobby lol). Uh, but yeah, you being contrarian...to the right? That means you not only agree with the status quo, but you don't even realize it. You dumb fuck. Christ. Fucking morons. ***pagliacci is italian you dumb fuck ******************************************************************************* (5/2/25 7:35 a.m.) EDITOR'S NOTE: The following is a transcript of a video edited by Martie "Murds" Mood. Title: How Brothers Follows the Hero's Journey -- strummerdood Description: Free Palestine -- If I Must Die, You Must Live (2024), a book of poetry and prose by Refaat Alareer Visibility: Public Restrictions: - Date: Jul 4, 2015 Views: 2,282 Comments: 12 Like (vs. dislike): 117 (98.3%) BOARD: Full spoilers for Brothers: A Tale of Two Sons Hey, I'm strummerdood or Matt or whatever, I don't know. So, Brothers: A Tale of Two Sons shares more in common with Greek mythology than just giants, trolls, and spider-women. It also fits Joseph Campbell's monomyth, or hero's journey. In case you don't know, the hero's journey was developed to analyze older mythology, and was even used as a storytelling device by Disney in the '80s. It's definitely broad, which leads to overuse, but it fits Brothers pretty well and helps flesh out the game's story. The story opens on the little brother, Naiee, as he mourns at the grave of his mother, who drowned as Naiee watched, leaving him stricken with guilt. His older brother, Naia, snaps him up to help wheel their sick father to the village doctor. Though we control both -- big brother with the left side of the controller, little brother with the right -- Naiee is the protagonist of the story. The boys receive their CALL TO ACTION from the doctor: To save their lone parent, they need to retrieve healing water from the Tree of Life. Naiee experiences a bit of APPREHENSION early as he's forced to confront his fear of swimming. However, Naia helps Naiee through the ordeal by carrying his little brother on his back. Naia can be seen as Naiee's SUPERNATURAL AID -- a mentor throughout the journey. After a fairly uneventful trip through their village, the boys encounter something foreign: a giant-yet-friendly troll who helps them CROSS THE THRESHOLD into the unknown world. The brothers enter the BELLY OF THE BEAST, or in this case, a mine presumably full of slave labor. Being the first truly dangerous section illustrates the boys' willingness to the journey. After reuniting the imprisoned troll with her husband, the brothers face more challenges on their ROAD OF TRIALS, one of the first being a perilous cemetery where Naiee very nearly drowns. After Naia saves him, Naiee experiences a vision of his brother beating on him, as if he blames his mother's death on Naiee. But when his little brother wakes up, Naia embraces him. Despite what Naiee believes, his older brother doesn't blame him for their mother's death. In fact, he shows the same unconditional love as his mother, which will hopefully help him work past his own guilt. [MEETING WITH GODDESS] Director Josef Fares said both life and death figure heavily into the overarching narrative of Brothers, and we certainly see it in the next few sections. Shortly after the grim graveyard, the brothers can stop a boy from killing himself. They comfort him with a music box and help him bury his parents. The boys can then ride mountain goats, play music for an inventor, hand glide to a ruined giant's tower, and save a griffin from captivity. It's all very whimsical, but the tone suddenly shifts in the next chapter. After watching the griffin slump over and presumably die, the brothers travel through a bloody river of slain giants from a battle past. But after saving a girl from being ritualistically sacrificed, the boys experience the marvel of a frozen tundra, reuniting a family of turtles and taking time to enjoy the orca whales. But then we again shift towards the grim, heading through the ruins of a town where its warring population literally stands frozen in time. After escaping an invisible giant, the young girl TEMPTS Naia, who refuses to listen to his brother when asked to enter a mysterious cave. The brothers unknowingly find themselves in the ABYSS, forced to face off against her true form: an homage to the Greek mythological figure of Arachne. Despite successfully defeating her, Naia is mortally wounded steps away from the Tree of Life. Naiee tries to save his brother with the healing water, but unfortunately, Naia succumbs to his physical injuries and dies. The little brother must now confront the ordeal of his grief. Drawing from Josef Fares' actual life, Naiee buries his brother alone. With Naia's death, even though his little brother may not know it, the older brother stays with Naiee in spirit. [ATONEMENT, APOTHEOSIS] Though he holds the elixir -- THE ULTIMATE BOON, presumably -- he still grieves the loss of his brother, REFUSING TO LEAVE his side until lifted away by his griffin pal from before. [MAGIC OF FLIGHT] The bird drops Naiee at his village, but the little brother must swim a flooded bank of water by himself. A RESCUE FROM WITHOUT, Naiee channels the spiritual strength of his brother to finally overcome his fear of swimming, illustrated through the mechanics by using Naia's side of the controls. Following in his brother's footsteps, Naiee forgives himself for his mother's death. He continues using his older brother's guidance to CROSS THE RETURN THRESHOLD back into the village, or the known world. He successfully delivers the elixir and saves his father. Imbued with Naia's spirit, Naiee becomes the MASTER OF TWO WORLDS, harmonious with the physical and spiritual. From tragedy comes growth in the same way throughout the game, ruins make way to renewed life. Brothers: A Tale of Two Sons shows life finding a way despite incomprehensible grief. The story certainly found roots in Josef Fares' life. As a child, he survived through Lebanon's civil war, and as a director, channeled the experience in a positive direction. Naiee experiences a cruel world but his brother shows him the value of life within it. Early in the game, only Naia stops to smell the roses, but before mourning his mother and brother, Naiee can do the same. He then comforts his father with a determination in his eyes. He's ready to tackle the world as a man, living for the moment, not anticipating the future or regretting the past. The FREEDOM TO LIVE, and his completion of the hero's journey.