Might as well expand a little on what I wrote earlier…
My name is Zadok, I was born in 1985 in a small English town outside of London called Winslow. My parents were Christian back then, and when word got out that they were calling me ‘Zadok’ a mysterious old woman knocked on the door and said that they can’t do that, because people would think I’m Jewish. Irony! My parents owned a rather unsuccessful tearoom, then a rather unsuccessful crafts shop that made shoes and handbags and stuff. Things got so bad that my parents decided to move to Spain, where they had been offered a job with a sinister Christian organisation of some sort counselling drug addicts. I went to school there for the first time, and hated it, but looking back it was the happiest time of my life. The sun always shone, the sinister Christian people were nice (we were friends with this missionary/TV evangelist that had this act where he broke a sword, and it was the power of Babylon or something, it’s in my mind forever. I can remember going to watch people getting baptised in his swimming pool) and being an only child meant that I got my parents’ full attention. Life was good.
Of course, happy times must come to an end, and fearing for my impressionable little soul with all these drug addicts hanging about, my parents decided to move again and so we went to live in Wales. I know. It was rainy and green against Spain’s wonderful weather, but it wasn’t so bad. We then moved (forgotten why) to Yorkshire, and stayed with a retired Colonel and his family on a farm. After a few years there, we moved to Hull, where my parents had accepted a place with another sinister Christian organisation. This one went into the former Soviet Union and took coachloads of Jews to Israel, because they were the chosen people and when the End Of Days came God would look kindly upon people that helped them. We lived in a big house with about eight other people; I think it was some sort of waystation for people on their way to Russia. There was a Dutch man called Jan, a fat Scottish woman called Judith (looking back, she was obviously a closeted lesbian) and a deranged woman called Sheila. It wasn’t a cult or anything; there was a TV and that, and I wasn’t forced to sit in on prayer meetings.
Anyways, all this ‘Israel/Jew’ stuff got my parents going. My father had gone over in the ’73 war and picked oranges whilst the real orange pickers were off fighting. This clearly had such an effect on him that they decided to convert to Judaism, and so to be closer to a community we moved to Manchester, where we still are. Starting high school and getting bullied was pretty much where life stopped being fun. Was an average student. Never really got into trouble. Worst thing I did was start smoking. After that, my parents shipped me off to a Jewish college called a Yeshiva, which made previous sinister Christian organisations look perfectly normal. I hated it, but not wanting to get kicked out (orthodox Jewish circle run big on social stigma – it could have ended my parents’ jobs in the community, ruined my siblings’ lives…) I pretended to like it thinking it would be over soon, which looking back was a mistake – I should’ve run. It was a fucking weird place – people would regularly go through your stuff to make sure that you had nothing ‘forbidden’, which could be books, magazines, porn, non-Jewish music… having to deal with the cunts day in, day out, being propagandised and secretly on the side researching all that they said and finding it to be nonsense. Of course, not being able to discuss this with anyone meant I retreated inwards, and I more or less started living in my head. This effectively turned me into the psychological wreck that I am today, quite besides starting my rabid hatred for fundamentalism of all natures. I could write a book about that shithole, really. Depression kicked in, and twice over the three years that I was there I nearly killed myself. Not to be dramatic, but music quite literally saved my life. Being naturally rebellious I had a radio, and through that I discovered Evanescence, Rage Against The Machine, System Of A Down. Buying albums by them led me to get more interested and ultimately it was the purchase of Iron Maiden’s Powerslave that got me into Metal properly. I came online at the local library, typed ‘Metal reviews’ into Google and discovered this place, which led me to extreme metal like Fear Factory, Darkthrone, Emperor, Enslaved, Napalm Death, and so on, and whilst battling depression I realised that Power Metal like Hammerfall and Edguy had a wonderfully happy vibe, which helped when I was at my low points. Thanks again, Ness.
Buying CDs by these bands and hiding them back at the Yeshiva, I became strangely happy for a while, developing a sort of nihilistic, fuck-it attitude that hasn’t left me. Leaving there, I started a law degree, work for a solicitor, and here I am, writing for Metal Reviews and having frequent and powerful mood swings that make me a bastard of a human being to be with and that I can only deal with through the healing power of alcohol. I still get the urge to jump off a tall building occasionally, but to date I haven’t taken it – I decided a time ago that suicide is a way out that I’m holding in reserve for another ten, fifteen years or so, to see what life has in store for me. I should probably be telling this to a psychologist rather than a buncha people on the internets, but having self-medicated this far to a successful degree I can’t see the point. Typing all this out is the closest I’ll probably get, and besides, reading about other people who have been through far worse and dealt with it much better just makes me feel silly.
Anyways, being a reviewer means I get most of my music free, but I still buy lots and am running out of space for them all. I like being a decadent westerner and having access to all our rotten culture, such as films and stuff, and am of average height, weight, shape. C’est moi! Thanks for reading.
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