'In the hills of some unknown country, where Zoe and myself have been abducted by a group who bare a passing resemblance to The Shining Path. Their camp, which appears to mix elements of the Slaver stronghold in Fallout 3 and a farmers market, is easy for me to escape from, and I jog down through the hills on an unguarded road which ends in a gate not dissimilar to the one in Jurassic Park. After escaping, I realise that Zoe has not followed me, despite my believing that that had been my original instruction to her. On an opposing hillside, I plan her rescue with a motley crew of carnival freaks. I draw up plans on a picnic table whilst everyone eats and makes excuses as to why they are scared of rescuing her. I go on a reconnoitring mission over the hills nearby, which now resemble Austria. I decide the easiest way in is the way I departed from, but everyone disagrees, unable to understand how a lack of guards is a good thing. Next to the picnic area is a military compound for another army. I notice they are loading a van with weapons before proceeding through a gate. I decide to pretend I am operating the gate and sneak on to the back of the truck to steal the weapons. They turn out to be guitar hero accessories. Actor Geoff Pierson appears in military fatigues, apparently the commander of the facility. He asks me who I am and what I am doing. I say I was trying to steal guns but they turned out to be plastic guitars. He tells me to be more careful in future. Zoe remains unrescued.'
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...
Comments