Skip to main content

Thirty

This one was very recent, with characters inspired, I suppose, by watching Never Say Never Again, the anomaly in the 007 canon which seemed to involve the input of no-one from the original series. It is also influenced, I think, by the programme about tigers that was on BBC One the other day, featuring an ensemble cast of largely superfluous naturalists who wandered up and down a river looking at shits.

'In a high mountain forest, most likely China, with an explorer friend who resembles Max von Sydow. We are searching for a Mamon, a rare sort of bear/wolf/lion hybrid. In reality, it is Mexican slang for 'absurd fuckhead'. Whilst climbing a slope, we spot one hiding in an abandoned border post, but by the time we reach it, it has gone. On the opposite slope border guards move about beneath oversized comedy hats. The border guards on the mountain we occupy are angry with us for following what they consider to be an evil creature. A man draws me an example which I vaguely recognise. It is quite unpleasant. Max von Sydow says something to upset the authorities and we are yelled at and made to leave. I decide to take a piss. Back in England, a party is thrown for me in a cavernous and unfamiliar house, where a woman shows me naked pictures of herself which she is uploading to the Internet as part of an unspecified art project. When I sit down to eat the meal that has been specially prepared for my return, I notice it is made entirely from differently coloured wine bottles.'
Labels:

Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

Fifteen + Sixteen

Long pause between posts owing to house moving and a lack of internet connection for over six weeks. Most frustrating. The intervening period has however furnished me with some new and skewed meanderings inside the subconscious underworld. The first, as you can guess from the reference to a certain daily newspaper, is from a while ago. The second (a double post to make up for the absence) came from a book I found whilst packing that contains notes on a defunct record label, conversations not appropriate for verbal discussion and occasional nocturnal recollections. 15. A warehouse, not dissimilar to Asda, where everything comes in multicoloured stacked boxes. Most boxes hold copies of The Times. I tell someone that they're not selling because they're not as cool as the new Berliner format Guardian (depressing how sad I am even in dreams). Later, am on an island, a little like the one in Lost. At one point I even ask when Walt is coming back. There are a crack team of commandos a...
3 comments
Read more

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.
1 comment
Read more

Seventy Four

  The city has been invaded by some sort of 14th century Shogunesque army. They've taken over the giant bathhouse/restaurant, akin to the one from the film Spirited Away. We attempt to retake it by crossing a bridge, carefully balancing on taught wires [I've been playing a lot of Ghost of Tsushima], but archers lean from upstairs windows: they fire down at us, and I see bodies plunge into the river below. I try and alternative tactic for entry, taking an alleyway behind the building, but before I am able to help I become entranced by the unusual intersecting pipework that criss-crosses the space . Staring dumbly at the patterns, I hear the battle continue in the distance.
Post a Comment
Read more