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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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...

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.

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.

A Disintegration Loop

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