Thursday, 2 June 2016

Seventy Three


'Michael from season 4 of The Wire is trying to kill me. We drive through an abandoned city, weaving between wrecked cars, firing guns at each other. None of my shots make contact. In a scene reminiscent of the end of Heat, I follow Michael and his accomplice through something which resembles the Holocaust memorial. I shoot at Michael, and as he falls I continue to riddle his body with bullets. Despite there being a lot of blood it becomes apparent relatively early on that this is not Michael but a cardboard cut-out. I have a flashback to a similar incident where my partner was killed and inexplicably replaced my Matt Berry, dressed in a 70s-style outfit. He had a seizure and rolled around in the mud. Back at the memorial and I am pleading for my life and crying.'

Monday, 4 May 2015

Seventy Two



















'In an underground complex, all crumbling concrete and rusted stairs. There are zombies here, mouths red with blood and flesh. I pilot a small buggy, knocking many of them over, until I end up being stopped by the sheer number. I climb out but they vanish. A man in strange suit motions toward a stair case as an elephant-man-type zombie stumbles toward me. I am to fight him. I hide behind a strange wall. The zombie turns in to a gun turret which I eventually destroy.'

Saturday, 7 February 2015

Seventy and Seventy One



Adam has become a vampire, at least I assume it’s Adam. We’re outside Asda at twilight, and I become aware of the threat as an object I take to be my brother moves at speed through dense foliage. Against better judgement I give chase, and watch as the vampire-like creature bounds across the road and jumps a garden fence. I follow. I am aware that I am able to leap in a similar fashion, and in the back garden of a normal suburban home I consider my position. The garden has a stone bird table, and through the blinds I can see an elderly couple watching television. I’m approached by a cat, which I instantly recognize as being the vampire. It senses my recognition and scatters in to a thousand black shapes, which form a sort of evil waterfall in reverse, spewing backwards over the fence and on to the adjoining cul-de-sac. I again give chase, but find myself standing in an empty street with no sign of the menace. All the lights in the houses are on, but no-one seems to be home.


Again in sociology, but mixed with the library a little. A man who may be Russell Barras-smith leads myself and Lawrence Llewellyn Bowen up some stairs such as those found in Wentworth 3rd floor. As we climb the stairs get narrower. I am scared of heights. L.L.B cups my genitals and I turn and chop him in the throat. R.B.S tells us to behave and then seems to forward roll off the stairs. I see his body tumble through space, but am too scared to watch it hit the bottom; when it does, it apparently makes no sound. I cling to the stairs in terror.

Wednesday, 29 October 2014

Sixty Nine



'The undercroft of a castle or cathedral. A female friend – blonde, round face, but unrecognizable on waking – is telling me about an amazing man, a prophet no less, who is going to lead her/us to some unspecified promised land. I am obviously sceptical. The undercroft is arranged with a series of desks, as in a Victorian class room (all tightly packed, high, scarred wood). Everyone is wearing a white gown. The class begins, and the students and my friend are subjected to a baffling array of visuals and noises projected across the entirety of the room. Somewhere in the darkness a man is laughing. I move slowly through the flashing lights to the source of the laughter to find Chris Morris, his hair long and curly, is in fact doing all of this as an elaborate joke. I try to explain this to everyone by I am drowned out by the ‘art work’; I run out of the undercroft, aware now that the practical joke was obviously at my expense.'


Tuesday, 2 September 2014

Sixty Eight


In some sort of wasteland, possibly Malton from urbandead but in reality. The buildings and general lay out of the space appears to be a grid system, dark green, crisscrossing and bisecting the land; it resembles a giant board game. The sky is muted orange, and I have a feeling there is something lurking in the increasing shadows that dusk has introduced. Someone who I am with shows me around their flat. From the window I see abandoned car parks, and in the distance lakes and mountains, though this view is partially obscured by smoke rising from refineries that seem to encircle the town. The light is falling away. No-one is on the street when I am taken to the next house. The view from the window is the other house. Each subsequent place I am shown around offers a view of the preceding property. I am caught in a loop of property viewing, with some unknown menace responsible for the trap I find myself in.

Friday, 4 July 2014

Sixty Six and Sixty Seven

I missed a few months somehow (I blame late-stage PhD write up), so here are two to catch up. One is from relatively recently and the other is from some point midway through the last decade.



'On a large complex train, arranged like an Ikea store. There is, as always, nowhere to sit, but I had to catch this train. There was no other option. I move from carriage to carriage, vaguely aware of someone guiding my hand through the morass of dark green first class seats I am forbidden to sit in, and elongated Moroccan-style benches replete with sprawl-ing idiots. I eventually come across the red carriage, a sort of standard class area, but covered in beds with red duvets. There are people under the sheets but I am unable to see them. They wriggle around and make noise. By the exit, which I walk through, there is one bed with a corpse in it. What I assume is the final carriage contains a food shop like Ikea; it is only when looking out of the window that I realise I am actually in the station and the train is leaving. All my stuff is there.'



'In the room at The Rookery in St. Ives. Outside is all darkness and turmoil, inside a single light is on. We are told to wait. An end-of-the-world style situation. Somehow me and Chris have survived (I didn't even know he was here). Finally, after a Beckettesque wait, an elderly couple enter the room with bags of shopping. The end of the world is over; people can now shop again'

Saturday, 15 March 2014

Sixty Five



In a complicated lake view complex, I am trapped in a lift. After somehow escaping, I am eating some terrible lemon cake, and go out on a log raft. I am convinced the raft will sink, but the pilot seems more concerned about me drinking alcohol on board. Later I visit a rundown zoo, similar to the knackered fun house in the original Max Payne game. Lin and Zo are there, and another man. We enjoy the zoo, but as we attempt to leave we are accused of theft. I escape, but everyone else is trapped inside. I attempt to remonstrate with the owners to no avail. The fences are too high for me to get in, and I have a vague memory of trying something similar in the past. Zo eventually escapes but is covered in cuts. Following some confusion in the car, someone gives me a hand job. Later still, I wander around the HF building. It is full to bursting with strangers watching the Belgian Grand Prix. There is also an art gallery attached. Inside I am charged six quid for a slice of oddly liquid cake. I see a strange stately home from an upstairs window, and outside meet an old tour guide who tells me a little about it. He is the spitting image of William Beveridge.