For those in the New Orleans area, copies of the debut album from Torgo, “Divinity Transmissions, Phase One: Salvation for the Dead”, can be purchased directly from any band member. You may also email through email@example.com to request a copy, or can contact the band through any number of internet presences. Any purchase of a physical copy from the band is name your own price.
For those in other parts of the world, the album can be downloaded through Amazon or iTunes. These are not pay what you want, but are nonetheless quite affordable.
Once again, there he stood in front of me. His arms outstretched like a messiah, his smile like that of a father. Through all the pain that had begun to reside within me, all I could do was stand in a passive trance. When pain leads to apathy, it’s hard to tell which is worse.
His words may as well have been spoken to the wind. I thought about what it was that I wanted, and in a moment of clarity I understood that I didn’t know. After being conditioned as such for so long, it is impossible to accept feeling content. I’m tired of wasting away. Maybe I didn’t know what I wanted anymore, but I knew what I didn’t want. Or what I didn’t want to be.
Nem was the most feared gunslinger of his time.
Even after his passing, his name was held in awed reverence by the sons of the living for far longer than his body held against the savage teeth of the earth. So much so, in fact, that many eventually began to question whether his passing was merely death, or if it were the work of some divine plan beyond their present. Perhaps they knew no man stood even the slightest chance of killing him, or maybe they simply chose to deny that the closest thing to a deity they’d ever known could in fact expire. Nobody even remembered the burial. Skeptics said they had chosen to forget out of some perverted sense of denial, while others insisted his body must have rotted before any could move it. As time passed, their suspicions of his divine abduction turned to myths, which turned to legends. Their suspicions, strangely enough, would ultimately prove to be not far from the truth.
While Nem was not necessarily an evil man, he could hardly be called good. True, he did purge the world of some of the most evil killers of his time, but many feared what they believed to be a man nourished by his own hate. The truth is, the only thing he ever really hated was the idea of fate. It was his cold apathy towards the living that made him such a prime candidate for hire so many millennia later.
Thus follows the Writings of Nem:
You don’t know how lucky you are. If only you knew what would become of your children’s descendants you would likely tear at the stem of your own heart. But you shouldn’t worry- as dismal as it may seem for you, they are happy. They are content to live without ambition. If you could, you might too. But you can’t.
I have lived among your children’s children as an equal. We, that is, Torgo, have seen the great wonders that pride births, but we have seen the frustration at the hands of progress’ curse. Our mission is to relay to you this condensed telling of the future, much as one might study the history of his ancestors. This history, paradoxically, is under dictation of its student. My purpose is not to take sides, although you may find that you yourself cannot help but do so.
Remember: Everybody has a motive.