Post by Glen Nodoveit on Sept 2, 2009 12:55:48 GMT -6
For ages upon ages, the competitive man has always sought out to be the best. Every victory either ending up on his wall in the form of a trophy or becoming vital nourishment to his ego, usually both. Where there has been competition or battle, there has always been fetishism, the showcasing of an inanimate object as sign of superiority or greatness. A badge indicating military ranking, the Anglo Saxon chronicles, a carcass to a hunter or indeed, gold. All of these have contributed to man's lust for power, domination and riches. It is in the battle that the competitive man finds meaning and purpose, as he knows nothing else. Every encounter, every challenge, will eventually be immortalized in a pointless, unfeeling object. The man will parade about with his trophy, seeking out admiration from his piers and day by day he will fall deeper into the pit of mental sadomasochism he has created for himself through his own unquenchable appetite for self gratification. He will never be the man that he wants to be, he will never be the undisputed champion or leader that his false idol of gold tells him that he can become. He will always be but a slave to his own trophy.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
When someone is getting off on the right foot and success is coming to them, even in the early stages of their newly revitalized career, you would swear that they might smile every now and again. This is however, not the case with one Glen Nodoveit. He was never one to gloat or to boast about victories, nor would he smile and celebrate them. His view on the competitive cycle was a very unpopular one indeed. Most men felt pleasure and warmth in the arms of success, but Nodoveit saw defeat in even the greatest of victories. There was always some issue he had yet to work out. Even for a washed up has been and a constant at narcotics anonymous meetings, he was still a perfectionist with too much time to his own thoughts. He saw things very differently than others, he wasn't a man of faith or belief, but he tried to see things in a very "yin and yang" perspective, maybe karma also, it was something that made a lot of sense to him. With every victory gained, he had to see the loss in it.
Upon arrival to an arena, Glen always liked to choose one place in the backstage area. He would sit down where ever that was and stay there until his match was called, not being a big fan of locker rooms and the usual locker room banter. But he would also prefer to be left alone with his thoughts, they kept his feet on the ground.
Friday September 4th, 2009
Frank Erwin Center;
Austin, Texas
The smell of popcorn and butter made him feel sick, but he would rather put up with that than pointless conversation with backstage staff and other wrestlers that he didn't even like. He sat atop a small storage case, taping up his wrists while keeping an eye on the popcorn guy further down the hall, who kept looking at him from behind his shoulder. John was leaning against a wall next to Glen, he was wearing a leather jacket, a black "Mayhem" t-shirt and ripped jeans. Overall his fashion sense had suddenly become similar to that of Nodoveit's, far from the 1950's comic book journalist type look he had sported before. John had a cigarette tucked between his lips and would go into fits of chesty coughing after every drag, this was not only irritating Glen in what was supposed to be his time of preparation, but also defeated the purpose of finding an alternative to the locker room.
Eventually, John's loud heaving and coughing was brought to the attention of a security guard, who justly lectured him not only on the no smoking policy of the arena, but also on the dangers of such a habit. John received the warning like a snotty teenager, giving back cheek and groaning as if he were being grounded. None the less, he took the word of the security guard and extinguished the cigarette on the wall. The security guard smiled and took his leave, strolling down the hall way and whistling while John frowned and looked towards Glen in a "did you just see that?" sort of manner. Glen, of course, was not paying attention. Then, finally, there was silence. Peaceful for Glen, but awkward for John, who instantly decided that it was time to break it.
"You...want some popcorn boss?"offered John with a cheesy smile on his face,"I hear its real good y'know?"
Glen sighed and threw his white tape to one side. He then shot the dirtiest look at John one could imagine.
"Do you ever shut up? All you have done since you have been on the road with me, is whine and complain and annoy me. You wanted in to this business so deal with it. I'll go over the rules once more Palmer. One, do not disturb me at any time. Two, the only time I want to hear you speak is when you speaking on my behalf. Three, the divas locker room is for the divas only and four, do not smoke in the complex, go outside and leave me alone." Glen made this clear through gritted teeth.
John took the hint with a "Sure thing" and was about to make a swift departure before stopping in his tracks. He spun around to face Nodoveit, who looked as though he were about to knock Palmer out cold for not leaving as he was told.
"Don't look now boss, but that Robins chick is on her way, microphone in hand.."John informed while unwrapping a breath mint.
And he was correct, as strutting down the hall along with a full camera crew, was the lovely Carly Robins, dressed to impress. She was half way down the hall way when she called out to them with an echoed "Hey, Glen, could I have a word with you?". John suddenly straightened up his posture and looked over at Glen, who still had a serial killers expression on his face. Carly, as if by instinct, immediately took her place standing next to Glen, shoving John out of the camera view. She obviously didn't need an answer as the interview had already begun.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
Carly: Ladies and gentlemen, I'm standing here with nCw's latest addition to the talent roster, Glen Nodofight!
Glen makes no eye contact with the camera lens and appears very irritated, still very upset over the interruption of his meditation time and Carly's mispronunciation of his name.
Glen:...Its -veit.
Carly: With an "f"?
Glen:...a "v"
Carly: That isn't how you spell "fight" though, is it?
Glen: No....it's a Russian surname.
Carly: Ooh, tropical. Why not go by your mothers name?
Glen: Her's was Nevakhovich-Rakhmelevich ...
Carly: Oh. Neato. Well on with the interview then, how does it feel to be back in the ring!? The wrestling world hasn't seen you in a very long time.
Glen: My return to wrestling shouldn't be met with such surprise. This "Wrestling world", as you describe it, is more like a multitude of fat, ugly and unemployed duds that can't seem to leave their computer screens for a second to take in real life. They have nothing better to do with themselves so they research what is happening in the "Wrestling world" and are usually up to date. They should have known I was coming back...so yeah, it's great to be back with my audience...Corey Shane shouldn't be all too happy with himself though.
John leaps back into view of the camera and poses for a second, before putting his arm around Glen.
John: ...Yeah booooiiii..
Glen: Shut up you little worm.
Glen then grabs John and shoves him back out of the camera view, his face now red from both rage and slight embarrassment. He then straightens himself up.
Glen: Sorry, my friend isn't used to being on camera...
Carly's facial expression says more about her confusion than any words could. Shaking it off, she proceeds with the interview.
Carly: Emm, I see. Oh, do you have any words for your opponent this coming Suspense?
Glen: What? The Clown?...yeah I suppose I could give him a fair eulogy.
Almost on cue, John reappears infront of the camera with another cigarette hanging from his mouth.
John: Expect the worst you painted up crack ho!
The camera fades out as nCw goes to a commercial break.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
When someone is getting off on the right foot and success is coming to them, even in the early stages of their newly revitalized career, you would swear that they might smile every now and again. This is however, not the case with one Glen Nodoveit. He was never one to gloat or to boast about victories, nor would he smile and celebrate them. His view on the competitive cycle was a very unpopular one indeed. Most men felt pleasure and warmth in the arms of success, but Nodoveit saw defeat in even the greatest of victories. There was always some issue he had yet to work out. Even for a washed up has been and a constant at narcotics anonymous meetings, he was still a perfectionist with too much time to his own thoughts. He saw things very differently than others, he wasn't a man of faith or belief, but he tried to see things in a very "yin and yang" perspective, maybe karma also, it was something that made a lot of sense to him. With every victory gained, he had to see the loss in it.
Upon arrival to an arena, Glen always liked to choose one place in the backstage area. He would sit down where ever that was and stay there until his match was called, not being a big fan of locker rooms and the usual locker room banter. But he would also prefer to be left alone with his thoughts, they kept his feet on the ground.
Friday September 4th, 2009
Frank Erwin Center;
Austin, Texas
The smell of popcorn and butter made him feel sick, but he would rather put up with that than pointless conversation with backstage staff and other wrestlers that he didn't even like. He sat atop a small storage case, taping up his wrists while keeping an eye on the popcorn guy further down the hall, who kept looking at him from behind his shoulder. John was leaning against a wall next to Glen, he was wearing a leather jacket, a black "Mayhem" t-shirt and ripped jeans. Overall his fashion sense had suddenly become similar to that of Nodoveit's, far from the 1950's comic book journalist type look he had sported before. John had a cigarette tucked between his lips and would go into fits of chesty coughing after every drag, this was not only irritating Glen in what was supposed to be his time of preparation, but also defeated the purpose of finding an alternative to the locker room.
Eventually, John's loud heaving and coughing was brought to the attention of a security guard, who justly lectured him not only on the no smoking policy of the arena, but also on the dangers of such a habit. John received the warning like a snotty teenager, giving back cheek and groaning as if he were being grounded. None the less, he took the word of the security guard and extinguished the cigarette on the wall. The security guard smiled and took his leave, strolling down the hall way and whistling while John frowned and looked towards Glen in a "did you just see that?" sort of manner. Glen, of course, was not paying attention. Then, finally, there was silence. Peaceful for Glen, but awkward for John, who instantly decided that it was time to break it.
"You...want some popcorn boss?"offered John with a cheesy smile on his face,"I hear its real good y'know?"
Glen sighed and threw his white tape to one side. He then shot the dirtiest look at John one could imagine.
"Do you ever shut up? All you have done since you have been on the road with me, is whine and complain and annoy me. You wanted in to this business so deal with it. I'll go over the rules once more Palmer. One, do not disturb me at any time. Two, the only time I want to hear you speak is when you speaking on my behalf. Three, the divas locker room is for the divas only and four, do not smoke in the complex, go outside and leave me alone." Glen made this clear through gritted teeth.
John took the hint with a "Sure thing" and was about to make a swift departure before stopping in his tracks. He spun around to face Nodoveit, who looked as though he were about to knock Palmer out cold for not leaving as he was told.
"Don't look now boss, but that Robins chick is on her way, microphone in hand.."John informed while unwrapping a breath mint.
And he was correct, as strutting down the hall along with a full camera crew, was the lovely Carly Robins, dressed to impress. She was half way down the hall way when she called out to them with an echoed "Hey, Glen, could I have a word with you?". John suddenly straightened up his posture and looked over at Glen, who still had a serial killers expression on his face. Carly, as if by instinct, immediately took her place standing next to Glen, shoving John out of the camera view. She obviously didn't need an answer as the interview had already begun.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
Carly: Ladies and gentlemen, I'm standing here with nCw's latest addition to the talent roster, Glen Nodofight!
Glen makes no eye contact with the camera lens and appears very irritated, still very upset over the interruption of his meditation time and Carly's mispronunciation of his name.
Glen:...Its -veit.
Carly: With an "f"?
Glen:...a "v"
Carly: That isn't how you spell "fight" though, is it?
Glen: No....it's a Russian surname.
Carly: Ooh, tropical. Why not go by your mothers name?
Glen: Her's was Nevakhovich-Rakhmelevich ...
Carly: Oh. Neato. Well on with the interview then, how does it feel to be back in the ring!? The wrestling world hasn't seen you in a very long time.
Glen: My return to wrestling shouldn't be met with such surprise. This "Wrestling world", as you describe it, is more like a multitude of fat, ugly and unemployed duds that can't seem to leave their computer screens for a second to take in real life. They have nothing better to do with themselves so they research what is happening in the "Wrestling world" and are usually up to date. They should have known I was coming back...so yeah, it's great to be back with my audience...Corey Shane shouldn't be all too happy with himself though.
John leaps back into view of the camera and poses for a second, before putting his arm around Glen.
John: ...Yeah booooiiii..
Glen: Shut up you little worm.
Glen then grabs John and shoves him back out of the camera view, his face now red from both rage and slight embarrassment. He then straightens himself up.
Glen: Sorry, my friend isn't used to being on camera...
Carly's facial expression says more about her confusion than any words could. Shaking it off, she proceeds with the interview.
Carly: Emm, I see. Oh, do you have any words for your opponent this coming Suspense?
Glen: What? The Clown?...yeah I suppose I could give him a fair eulogy.
Almost on cue, John reappears infront of the camera with another cigarette hanging from his mouth.
John: Expect the worst you painted up crack ho!
The camera fades out as nCw goes to a commercial break.