Post by Josh Kennedy on Oct 15, 2017 23:51:31 GMT -5
Section One (Off-Camera):
Moscone Center
San Francisco, California
11th October 2017
"You'll find your hope amongst the crowds of all the people you've let down." - Fightstar (The English Way)
The last time Josh had been at an official fan signing event, he was the UWF Universal Champion, with a line straight out of the door of the Anaheim Convention Center. It was just as surreal then as it is now. And were it not for the dedication of the California-based Slaughterhouse fans who otherwise wouldn't typically get a chance to see Josh in this context, the current King of Deathmatch Champion of the Chicago-based company wouldn't have three quarters of the crowd he currently held, he knew that much. His following of NGW fans was about as limited as his success in the company itself had been so far. That is to say, beyond modest. And frankly, for his efforts there so far, it was all he deserved. Josh refused to let himself shy away from that ugly truth, but that didn't stop it from eating away at him. When he'd planted his flag in the company, he'd had every intention of scraping his way to the very top, no matter how much it took. That goal was still very much the same, but a huge amount of pressure rests on his shoulders at this very point. He'd beaten Jonathan Drake at Convergence, albeit by the skin of his teeth, and he'd won the five-way match to open up the first of the new NGW shows. Objectively, he'd found a chance at finally breaking out in the Young Lions division. He was inching ever closer to a contendership spot, and yet he barely felt like he deserved it. Perhaps he still had time to redeem himself, to earn his place, but the next few shows would be crucial for him if this was to be the case.
Typically, this line of self-questioning would lead to nothing but doubt, and the bitter failure that inevitably followed it, and yet some of the greatest successes of his career had come at his lowest points. His reputable moments fuelled by the trials of personal turmoil and depression. Contradictory, for certain, yet that was something of a theme of his life. And as he sat in the Moscone Center, surrounded by fans in shirts for obscure metal bands they were obscenely obsessed with - passionate purveyors of Josh's particular brand of violence - it became clear that he was the perpetual outsider. This wasn't the first time he'd felt that way, and it probably wouldn't be the last. But nonetheless, in a company full of tortured, violent competitors that proudly displayed themselves as less than human, the very company he'd worked tirelessly to prop up. The company in which he was top champion, no less, he didn't really belong there until he fought to make it his own. Until he toured the CWC territories both alone and with his Filth Parade brethren to make their imprint on the place as a whole, only then did Josh truly carve out some kind of place for himself in Slaughterhouse. He, the relentlessly flawed, unyieldingly human on full, unflinching display within a sea of monsters just waiting to tear him limb from limb. And perhaps that's what it would take to find success where he was. If he had to, that's exactly what he'd do. He would carve a place for himself with whatever tools he could find. If he had to tear out his own tooth and use it to chisel his name into the side of the mountain that was NGW, he'd do it. Any expense to make things right.
A warm smile creeps onto Josh's face as he looks up from the piece of paper in front of him, into the eyes of an awkward teenage girl who blushes at the eye contact, her eyes promptly falling to her shoes as she begins desiring nothing more than for the earth to open up and swallow her whole. A feeling Josh himself knew all too well.
"Who do I make this out to?" He asks, twirling his pen between his fingers.
Section Two (Audio Only):
13th October 2017
Opening with the sound of an exasperated sigh, followed by some incoherent murmurs, Josh's voice recording begins. He can't bring himself to appear on camera, he's been ignoring calls and texts since Wednesday. Losing the King of Deathmatch Championship he held so dear, alongside the typical cycling of his bipolar disorder back into the tight, murky grasp of a depressive phase, Josh can't bring himself to do much of anything. Not that he would give anybody such an explanation even if he could. Josh's misguided need to shield those close to him from the reality of the situation had made him ignore every concerned message he recieved, regardless of who it was from. Secluded from the world and all he holds dear, alone and physically aching all over in his less than luxurious motel room in San Francisco, he instead records audio.
"I've tried recording this like seven fuckin' times and I can't get it right."
His tone of voice is clearly despondent. Mostly flat, and monotonous, not too
much of a departure from his typical slack-jawed mumble, but distinct from the norm.
"I keep ramblin'. Hell, I barely know if I have much of a point to make right now other than re-statin' the obvious."
He sighs again.
"So, surprisin' absolutely nobody, I proved myself a failure yet again. To everyone who believed in me, who came out to the con to try and support me, I'm sorry. I let you down. I failed in my home company, the house that I built with my friends. If only they could see the fuckin' mockery I've made of myself now for what it is. I never deserved to be King of Deathmatch Champion, that's the truth of it. I thought I did, but all the effort I gave for it means nothin' if I never meant shit to begin with, and I clearly don't. I mean, just look at the fuckin' state of my career in NGW right now."
He snorts derisively, his voice dripping with inwardly-directed venom.
"Coda, you probably don't trust or believe in me right now. I wouldn't blame ya. Given what I've displayed so far, if the shoe was on the other foot, I wouldn't either. It's gonna take far more than the corrections I've made so far to make things right. I've got a long road to redeemin' myself ahead of me, I know that much. But you and me? We got a common goal tonight. If I can somehow find it in me to carry on, I'll fight with whatever I got left. Motivatin' myself to do anythin' at this point sure as shit ain't easy. Hell, if I could just stay completely radio silent right now, I would. But I gotta say somethin'. So I guess, I apologize in advance. None of this is your fault. I'm gonna try. Not for your sake. Not even for my own. But for all those people I've let down yet a-fuckin'-gain. All those amazing people who bothered tryin' to see me at the Squared Circle Con earlier this week despite everythin'. Those folks who've seen me fuck up time and again, and they still had joy in their hearts when I scribbled my name down on their pieces of paper. Because for some reason, they still believe in me. I don't think I can find the will to continue anywhere else right now."
"Shit, I'm sure Aurelio and Drake are rubbin' their hands with glee right now. 'Crazy-ass motherfucker broke down again, he ain't shit'. And they're probably right, too. If I'm bein' honest, no part of me wants to leave this room I'm in right now. No part of me wants to do anythin'. But I have to man the fuck up and go for it anyway. Because I owe it to the few people who continue count on me to do so. Just remember, guys, I beat both of you before. If I can get myself outta this bed come Sunday, I'd be willin' to bet I can give it a pretty good shot again. Ain't gonna stop me from tryin'."
"I know a lotta people are gonna hear this and think I'm weak and pathetic. A lotta people are gonna mock me for this, I know it. And that's ok, take your shots, just make sure you keep your aim squarely on me, because this ain't about any of you and you know it. The only reason I'm recordin' this at all is for those people who'll hear this and know exactly what's really goin' on. For those people who feel the way I feel right now. Because I know it's ok to feel like this, and all of them deserve to know that too. You can pull yourselves outta this. You don't have to be ok right now, but you need to know that you can be. You need to know that none of you are alone in this. Just keep holdin' on as best you can, show your strength. This will pass, I promise."
The words, while clearly incredibly genuine and heartfelt seem to ring hollow, as though in the moment they leave his mouth, he's not too sure whether or not he actually believes them himself.
"Maybe the fact that I'm even attemptin' to find some kinda way through this to make it out there and wrestle right now, to try and find that glimmer of hope I can hold onto, just to try and get myself into this fight as I promised I would - despite everything tellin' me to give in - says everything I could ever need to. I hope it does, because I'll never really yield to this. Not completely. I refuse to."
There's a long hesitation, a good 20 seconds of almost-total silence only slightly undercut with the sound of Josh's soft breathing as he ponders what else he might have left to say.
"To everyone I hold dear, everyone I call a friend, I'm sorry. Maybe some day I'll stop failin' you all."
The audio cuts off there.
Moscone Center
San Francisco, California
11th October 2017
"You'll find your hope amongst the crowds of all the people you've let down." - Fightstar (The English Way)
The last time Josh had been at an official fan signing event, he was the UWF Universal Champion, with a line straight out of the door of the Anaheim Convention Center. It was just as surreal then as it is now. And were it not for the dedication of the California-based Slaughterhouse fans who otherwise wouldn't typically get a chance to see Josh in this context, the current King of Deathmatch Champion of the Chicago-based company wouldn't have three quarters of the crowd he currently held, he knew that much. His following of NGW fans was about as limited as his success in the company itself had been so far. That is to say, beyond modest. And frankly, for his efforts there so far, it was all he deserved. Josh refused to let himself shy away from that ugly truth, but that didn't stop it from eating away at him. When he'd planted his flag in the company, he'd had every intention of scraping his way to the very top, no matter how much it took. That goal was still very much the same, but a huge amount of pressure rests on his shoulders at this very point. He'd beaten Jonathan Drake at Convergence, albeit by the skin of his teeth, and he'd won the five-way match to open up the first of the new NGW shows. Objectively, he'd found a chance at finally breaking out in the Young Lions division. He was inching ever closer to a contendership spot, and yet he barely felt like he deserved it. Perhaps he still had time to redeem himself, to earn his place, but the next few shows would be crucial for him if this was to be the case.
Typically, this line of self-questioning would lead to nothing but doubt, and the bitter failure that inevitably followed it, and yet some of the greatest successes of his career had come at his lowest points. His reputable moments fuelled by the trials of personal turmoil and depression. Contradictory, for certain, yet that was something of a theme of his life. And as he sat in the Moscone Center, surrounded by fans in shirts for obscure metal bands they were obscenely obsessed with - passionate purveyors of Josh's particular brand of violence - it became clear that he was the perpetual outsider. This wasn't the first time he'd felt that way, and it probably wouldn't be the last. But nonetheless, in a company full of tortured, violent competitors that proudly displayed themselves as less than human, the very company he'd worked tirelessly to prop up. The company in which he was top champion, no less, he didn't really belong there until he fought to make it his own. Until he toured the CWC territories both alone and with his Filth Parade brethren to make their imprint on the place as a whole, only then did Josh truly carve out some kind of place for himself in Slaughterhouse. He, the relentlessly flawed, unyieldingly human on full, unflinching display within a sea of monsters just waiting to tear him limb from limb. And perhaps that's what it would take to find success where he was. If he had to, that's exactly what he'd do. He would carve a place for himself with whatever tools he could find. If he had to tear out his own tooth and use it to chisel his name into the side of the mountain that was NGW, he'd do it. Any expense to make things right.
A warm smile creeps onto Josh's face as he looks up from the piece of paper in front of him, into the eyes of an awkward teenage girl who blushes at the eye contact, her eyes promptly falling to her shoes as she begins desiring nothing more than for the earth to open up and swallow her whole. A feeling Josh himself knew all too well.
"Who do I make this out to?" He asks, twirling his pen between his fingers.
Section Two (Audio Only):
13th October 2017
Opening with the sound of an exasperated sigh, followed by some incoherent murmurs, Josh's voice recording begins. He can't bring himself to appear on camera, he's been ignoring calls and texts since Wednesday. Losing the King of Deathmatch Championship he held so dear, alongside the typical cycling of his bipolar disorder back into the tight, murky grasp of a depressive phase, Josh can't bring himself to do much of anything. Not that he would give anybody such an explanation even if he could. Josh's misguided need to shield those close to him from the reality of the situation had made him ignore every concerned message he recieved, regardless of who it was from. Secluded from the world and all he holds dear, alone and physically aching all over in his less than luxurious motel room in San Francisco, he instead records audio.
"I've tried recording this like seven fuckin' times and I can't get it right."
His tone of voice is clearly despondent. Mostly flat, and monotonous, not too
much of a departure from his typical slack-jawed mumble, but distinct from the norm.
"I keep ramblin'. Hell, I barely know if I have much of a point to make right now other than re-statin' the obvious."
He sighs again.
"So, surprisin' absolutely nobody, I proved myself a failure yet again. To everyone who believed in me, who came out to the con to try and support me, I'm sorry. I let you down. I failed in my home company, the house that I built with my friends. If only they could see the fuckin' mockery I've made of myself now for what it is. I never deserved to be King of Deathmatch Champion, that's the truth of it. I thought I did, but all the effort I gave for it means nothin' if I never meant shit to begin with, and I clearly don't. I mean, just look at the fuckin' state of my career in NGW right now."
He snorts derisively, his voice dripping with inwardly-directed venom.
"Coda, you probably don't trust or believe in me right now. I wouldn't blame ya. Given what I've displayed so far, if the shoe was on the other foot, I wouldn't either. It's gonna take far more than the corrections I've made so far to make things right. I've got a long road to redeemin' myself ahead of me, I know that much. But you and me? We got a common goal tonight. If I can somehow find it in me to carry on, I'll fight with whatever I got left. Motivatin' myself to do anythin' at this point sure as shit ain't easy. Hell, if I could just stay completely radio silent right now, I would. But I gotta say somethin'. So I guess, I apologize in advance. None of this is your fault. I'm gonna try. Not for your sake. Not even for my own. But for all those people I've let down yet a-fuckin'-gain. All those amazing people who bothered tryin' to see me at the Squared Circle Con earlier this week despite everythin'. Those folks who've seen me fuck up time and again, and they still had joy in their hearts when I scribbled my name down on their pieces of paper. Because for some reason, they still believe in me. I don't think I can find the will to continue anywhere else right now."
"Shit, I'm sure Aurelio and Drake are rubbin' their hands with glee right now. 'Crazy-ass motherfucker broke down again, he ain't shit'. And they're probably right, too. If I'm bein' honest, no part of me wants to leave this room I'm in right now. No part of me wants to do anythin'. But I have to man the fuck up and go for it anyway. Because I owe it to the few people who continue count on me to do so. Just remember, guys, I beat both of you before. If I can get myself outta this bed come Sunday, I'd be willin' to bet I can give it a pretty good shot again. Ain't gonna stop me from tryin'."
"I know a lotta people are gonna hear this and think I'm weak and pathetic. A lotta people are gonna mock me for this, I know it. And that's ok, take your shots, just make sure you keep your aim squarely on me, because this ain't about any of you and you know it. The only reason I'm recordin' this at all is for those people who'll hear this and know exactly what's really goin' on. For those people who feel the way I feel right now. Because I know it's ok to feel like this, and all of them deserve to know that too. You can pull yourselves outta this. You don't have to be ok right now, but you need to know that you can be. You need to know that none of you are alone in this. Just keep holdin' on as best you can, show your strength. This will pass, I promise."
The words, while clearly incredibly genuine and heartfelt seem to ring hollow, as though in the moment they leave his mouth, he's not too sure whether or not he actually believes them himself.
"Maybe the fact that I'm even attemptin' to find some kinda way through this to make it out there and wrestle right now, to try and find that glimmer of hope I can hold onto, just to try and get myself into this fight as I promised I would - despite everything tellin' me to give in - says everything I could ever need to. I hope it does, because I'll never really yield to this. Not completely. I refuse to."
There's a long hesitation, a good 20 seconds of almost-total silence only slightly undercut with the sound of Josh's soft breathing as he ponders what else he might have left to say.
"To everyone I hold dear, everyone I call a friend, I'm sorry. Maybe some day I'll stop failin' you all."
The audio cuts off there.
