Forty Six and Forty Seven

Some how I missed March, so this is a double post to make up for the error. The first one is several years old, the second happened a few nights ago, which is clearly a reflection of my concern about given a conference paper on Monday.

'Toadfish, the Neighbours character, is dressed like something out of Miami Vice. He has a pony tail. He resembles himself ten years ago. I am guarding a woman who may/may not be Kristen, the woman Paul had an affair with. She is handcuffed to a pipe in a back room of the pub that used to be owned by Lou. Men are coming to get her. I hide in the building as they peak through the windows. Eventually one gets up the courage to come to the door. I greet him, saying ‘Look, this has happened once before, and I will kill every one of you.’ He takes no notice, so I pull a pipe on him, beat him and stab his associates. I am convinced this is a memory of something I have done before, except, of course, it is not.'

'In a long strange room, similar to somewhere along the second floor in Wentworth. A panel of short men, one of who is Robin, asks me questions about my work. Each answer is greeted with laughter, but rather being unsettling it is a mark of respect in a culture I am apparently unfamiliar with. I join in. We cover a great many topics, each one greeted with similar mirth. By the end of my time with the bizarrely sized men my face hurts and I am unable to speak without pain in my neck and upper shoulders. What was so funny?'

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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.'

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.

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...

A Disintegration Loop

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