i am a space needle

I’m the operator of a cable car that travels between six planets in the deeper realms of outer-space. Out the triangular windows are various celestial sights that would undoubtedly mesmerize my waking-self but don’t phase my dreaming-self in the least. It’s all routine to me.
Today we’re traveling at a ridiculously high speed — way faster than usual. Emily is sitting across from me. I can sense that she is nervous. I glance around the car and realize that everyone is overtaken with a silent fright — and they are all looking to me for some sort of guidance. The car is a bit rundown and could use a paint job — the green pleather seats are torn and a good few of the lights are dim or flickering. As I’m glancing around the car it dawns on me (in a rather causal way, might I add) that we will all die in this car and, in fact, be dead within the next few minutes. The cables have snapped, and we are plummeting through space at an incomprehensible speed — a speed, that alone, will destroy this steel car and our ripe bodies within it.
I knew something was different about today. What am I talking about?! I’ve been working this job too long. There is no “today”. I haven’t lived a solid “day” in years . . . or a night for that matter. Life, for me, exists in perpetual motion. I have no star to call “Sun”, and I’m not even oriented by the billions that surround me. This car is routed on cables. The steering wheel in my hands is just for show. My presence here is a joke.
I decided it’s better to keep a straight face. No one needs to know about our fate. They will only freak out and begin to scream. And Emily? …why worry her? …to what avail? No, I’ll keep quite. Smile around, and send her a wink. We will all be stardust soon enough….
Suddenly, my ears begin to tingle and then sting. And then a single, insistent, and ever-sharpening pain shoots through my skull. The sharpest I have ever felt. I look around . . . everyone is cupping their ears with their hands . . . mouths agape. My eyes widen, mouth drops open. Am I screaming? Are they screaming? We all seem to be screaming. It feels like I’m screaming. The pain between my ears is so acute that, even though it is deathly silent, it is the loudest, most terrible thing I have ever heard. My consciousness, and entire life, have been swallowed by the searing pain — and I vanish into the empty soundless space.

I awaken in my room, it’s 1am, and I have the worst earache I have ever had.

Advertisements

purple jelly monsters

I’m in clearing in the middle of a rolling thick forest. It’s dark. A fairly large community of people started living here ever since a Black Magician put a spell over the land. We live in trailers and eat whatever we can scavenge. There is a political science club that holds classes on political theory — I am in this club — and we are currently studying for a national test that will award a monetary scholarship to those who score in the top 5 percent. I couldn’t care less, but I’m still kept up at night trying to solve annoying practice test questions. The teachers of this preparatory class are my former high school professors — I know they don’t like me very much.
Life in the forest has a very cinematic quality to it. Everything feels predetermined, as if at any moment someone much larger will hit an otherworldly fast-forward or rewind button. Tension is running high through the community. Word is out that the Black Magician will be up to something particularly sinister this evening (and this is the night before the big test on political theory!).
The ground begins to tremble and the surrounding trees are swaying frantically, though the sky is nursing no wind. Over the treetops an enormous glowing purple mountain begins to amass . . .  no, not a mountain . . . .   It has eyes! And a dreadfully large mouth lined with razor-sharp teeth! A giant beast is approaching! It’s body is a bit translucent through a hazy purple hue, with stout arms and legs protruding from its robust round figure.
As it enters the clearing I can see that it is at least thirty trees tall. Almost immediately it explodes into hundreds of large jelly balls . . . and then those balls explode into thousands of smaller one. This multiplication of itself happens about four more times until the earth is covered in millions of balls the size of a human hand. Deep dimples form in the balls, two of which fill in with mean glaring eyes, and one which hollows out into a sharp hungry hole. I have a gun that shoots lightening. I take aim and fire, but my weapon is useless against the ravished jelly beasts. My childhood friend (Joe) drive up in a cardboard bus. He is going to save the day (or at least that is the sentiment that his arrival elicits). About thirty people dressed in white assemble against side of the bus — they form a wall, three people high, standing on top of each others’ shoulders. Suddenly a massive saw blade begins slicing through the bus, and it passes smoothly through the bodies of the people whose white clothes are now red with blood. They collapse into a withering pile of limbs and heads. The monsters are hypnotized by the spectacle, and quickly begin to gorge themselves on the human offering. After being hypnotized, myself, for a few moments over the feasting monsters, I make my way to a quite trailer at the edge of the village. I have to inquire about a particularly difficult question that I’m nervous is going to be on the test in the morning.
Freakin’ test! Do I really need to take it? I hate these kinds of tests!

fingerless gloves

It was as if I were trying to catch a solid reflection of myself in a rushing brook.

. . . I then started cutting off large sections of each of my fingers so they would fit into the small gloves. I used dull scissors for this horrible chore; it was tougher to get through the tendons than the bone. The bone just snapped clean with the initial pressure — the tendons took a special kind of focused time. However, I saw through the gruesome task with steadfast dedication and utter agony, without so much as a flinch. The real pain and frustration didn’t come until much later. For I realized, not soon enough, that the premise of my reasoning was faulty — the gloves were the fingerless kind!

Needless to say, awkwardly typing this with sore bloody knuckles has been a humbling and lonely experience.

a backup soul

They were tearing the backs off of toads. It starts with a tiny cut under the neck. And then a pry of the blade against a thumb.
It comes off fairly smooth, a tiny slab of forest green lumps and bumps — an exquisite splash of raw red flesh glistening against a silver moody sky.

Why are they doing this?  To what avail?
I look into the creature’s eyes, searching for something . . . anything.  I find nothing.
A cursed stone face — unable to convey its agony. It mocks us, and renders us soulless.

Perhaps nothing I find, because nothing is what I seek?
“Give me that knife.”
It’s time I look beyond my own reflection in a set of glossy golden eyes. There’s got to be a ghost in here somewhere.
And I’m going to find it. I need to find it.  ♨

fever over sight

I wake juggling shapes that threaten to crush me should I slip up. In a pool of cold sweat. Submerged beneath. Dank blanket. Swallowing me.
“Leave me be! Sleep — come for me again! I beg you….”

Wandering the concrete alley. True to form, I walk upright — not like last time without feet. Fuck! Another dead end. I turn around from where I came, but there is a wall touching my nose. It has been following me. I turn around again — life beginning, a field of blue grass and moaning trees, distant mountains, and weeping clouds.  A yellow & red zebra watches me and its tongue falls from its mouth. And where the tongue lands the ground cracks opens, and with it a chill overtakes my body. Shaking. Shaking. I peer into the gleaming white abyss, and my right eye unhinges itself from my skull and I am watching it fall and I am watching white falling. But my feet are firm on the blue grass. Dizzy.

I wake juggling those damn colossal shapes again. Cold, sweating, frenzied and frantic.
“Stop this you fiendish thieves of rest! I can not hold these terrible shapes! They are too big, too many sides. Too many disjointed sides! Leave me be! Sleep! Come for me again!”

The wall extends to only my arm’s length and I continue the pattern with the tiles. I’ve been doing this for centuries. On this same rickety ladder. On this same damn wall. I hate these tiles. I hate this wall. The mortar smells like death, and it weeps from the space my eye once occupied. My arm aches, my rusty spade has been worn to a nub. I hate this wall. I hate these damn tiles! Why the fuck am I doing this?
What’s that!? Inside the pattern. Inside the tiles!
No! Not what. Who!? Who is that!
She holds me in a tender gaze. She is old, her face looks like a raisin in the murky reflection of the tile. She speaks with a foreign tongue I do not know — my anger melts and I lay my hands back to their tedious, gross work. The infinite pattern is almost complete — and when it is, I will know rest like no other has known. And the red moon that tooters up from the West will relinquish its motion and steady itself so I may catch it in my net.

I will have my eye back. ♨

we are young supernovas

I’m in an abandoned shopping mall with two others. We’re not entirely sure what’s going on. The world seems to have stopped turning, and most people have disappeared. We’ve heard that a few, whom we don’t care for very much, are still lurking about. We have this strong inkling that it would be a terrible idea to leave the mall. It’s dangerous outside — maybe zombies, maybe thieves, maybe our arch nemeses.  But than again, it’s dangerous in the mall too. We are in it, and we’re growing more desperate every hour. The only food is a buffet table with baskets full of black putrefying bananas. The two others are good people. I know they are, but this situation is getting to us, and we are growing distant and locked into our own minds. One is male, he has short blond hair and he’s physically fit — he reminds me of my childhood friend, Justin. The other is female, named Tali, she is also fit with blond hair — I know her.

I’m walking past the buffet table, it’s on my right. I keep walking and the outside wall is gone. Crystal blue waters are lapping against the pink tile floor. The ocean has come for us. The water is shallow by the end of the mall, but there is a large sand pool just a few meters away, and a tiger stares at me hungrily from that pool. We cannot leave by sea. I quickly retreat back into the mall and see a large silo. It has no doors, but it has a ladder. I race up it to see how fast I can get off the ground — I know that tiger will come for me eventually, and it’s a safe place. I get to the top and the hatch opens, but it is small, and the roof comes to a triangular point anyway. The walls are wide, and the ladder is made of thin round metal — it’s very uncomfortable, I couldn’t last up here for more then a few minutes.
I climb down and go back deeper into the mall. I see Justin, he says “He’s coming!”, and bolts past me. I follow and when I round the corner, he’s in one of the elevators, but the door quickly closes before I get in. I don’t know where Tali is, but I hope she is well hidden in one of the hotel rooms upstairs — “He” is coming to find her really, not us.  I hide in a darkened corner for a bit, and then make my way towards the silo. As I’m walking past the buffet table “He” is there. The bananas are all yellow and plump, and he has a smirk on his face. He’s a round man of medium height, I’ve never seen him before, but just through his smile and smell I know I never want to again. He’s running his fingers over the bananas, they are a present for Tali — there’s hundreds of them. We make are way to the crystal blue waters — our eyes locked into each others’ feverish gaze. He is confident and unafraid. He standing with his back to the ocean. It is dark now and three moons hang above the water, each within its own phase. Justin is there. He begins punching the fat man on the face, the man make no motion. Justin steps to few paces left. They are both staring at me, entranced, muttering, muttering in some foreign language. The man breaks his rapture and grabs a sword out of a tall bejeweled umbrella vase and slices Justin’s right arm. He drops the sword in front of himself pleased and fearless of retaliation. He raises his shirt to reveal his round belly as a meaty grin stretches across his face. Justin grabs the sword and slices him longways just above his bellybutton. At first nothing . . . and then a thin red line appears, and then it opens wider and wider, redder and wider — then streams of blood and gobs of guts gush out of him. He collapses to the floor unnaturally, like a Jacob’s Ladder. Eyeballs and living rats slither out of his ghastly wound. His face is white, mouth agape; his skin wrinkly and thin, hanging off his bones, too big for his deflated body.
We race back to the elevators and call for Tali. We decide it’s time to brave the greater world.

We’re in a truck driving through a small town. People are about. Nothing seems wrong.
Is nothing wrong? Were we wrong??
I see my friend Rachel, and tell her to climb into the truck, she does and we start driving out of town. With her she brings a peace that we’ve forgotten. The road vanishes and we are speeding through a field of large flowers, every peddle a different color; and although it is night, their glimmer is spectacular. They seem pixelated, as if we are in a digital film or video game. I look behind us and the flowers are fine, our tires do not crush them. We are light and laughing and quickly approaching the ocean and its moons — with no intention of slowing down when we meet them. ♨

a girl falling from a plane

I am still kind of in shock. I watched the plane transform as it passed two other planes. It roared and broke. Some one said “that’s not normal” It looked like bodies were falling. A body plummeted toward and smacked against the wall of the pool and into it. I raced toward the steps. I was on the median between two pools. I looked down at the girl. Someone offered a red foam board for transport. She was small and  conscious but not even bleeding. She was shaking. Her legs kept sticking straight up. I am dying, she said. She writhed painfully. I woke.

In the little alcove a man with brownish skin talked. The store had changed its name. It had been Trohve in hamden. Up a back stair. A woman with a child pressed so tightly into her chest wriggled into form from the sagging twin bed. Another appeared behind her, but it was a manish form that hugged me when I told him I speak arabic. It was odd. As We left to go get into the utility truuck, I saw Rupert Wolonski, head down. I said goodbye. The side of the truck said “Mannslers” or some other Germanic thing. It was the Olde tyme writing style that made me think I was part of a german company. I got into the passenger seat. The dark skinned cabbi got to the intersection again. He wanted to take me to the new side of town andl eave me there. I was indignant. What this again!? Take me to the other side of the highway and leave me by the bus stop! But still, of he goes to the left hand turn lane that takes me toward the new part of town.

Earlier I skipped a class. I watched the time 12:10, almost 12:15 I thought. I sat with my high school friend Chris H. He kept leaning toward me. He reminded me of some earlier kiss which really had never happened. I walked down fantastic stairs of some incredible design. The shag had tubes of color flaps. It was remarkable, though I don’t remember what we were saying. I was in a motel room. I was walking through a doorway, not locking it.  Musical instruments play behind him. He talked about his girlfriend. I found myself at 433 West Creek Rd. or 6266 West Creek Rd where I grew up. I was upstairs. I was reading a poster. I placed two spray bottles near Williams pillow for the cats. My pants must have fallen down. I saw a naked girl in a room laughing. There was a sauna. It was an odd misplaced sexual energy.