Lately I have been phasing in and out of charmed-out relaxed social situations not really caring to how I arrived or how quickly I would disappear again. Sometimes I will sit up and find myself in a comfy chair in one of those apartments with a kitchen entrance, other times it’s the corner of a sopping oak pub as my face gleams through the light projection of a nearby tv, sometime I even pry my eyes open and I am in shotgun with my legs bulked around me with my arm torching a cigarette out the window. Usually when I come out of this ‘re-materialisation” I check to see if my clothes are still pretty fly out of constant mechanical observation- often I am only satisfied.

Its always a more comforting satisfaction that you at least managed to get one thing right and as basic as putting a pair of pants its better to be dress for the occasion. The rest will all fall into place if you can master your poker face.

When you drift you must learn how to take grab of reality when it hits you. It’s your shame you live with it but the trick is managing the times in and out of reality. This is best learned playing those old “sitback” board games, dominos, go, chess… sit back and let them make their move and then play the game of “how fast can you take your time”.

DIAL UP

It’s only slight observations. When your so saturated with the constant steam of observing that you begin reaching that level of absolute communication absorption- you start replacing your veins with fiberoptic cables, your thoughts are projected at lighting speed and confusion hits your brain when 80 Million connections try to hammer you all at once for that information.

The drag of disconnection its frightful for anyone who’s been “plugged in”. Communication is worse like any abused drug on the market and their packs of sick white-faced DS are highly recognizable. The effects on the core are electrifying- like unplugging a TV that is still on. The tubes fire out and nothing is further transmitted and the box sits and waits- slightly humming as the serge of electrons leaves its shell.

I recently was plugged back in, only I have issues getting a proper steady download stream. Searching out the right channels….

SEPTEMBER 25

I spent most of the day puzzling over this muffin of a riddle to the point where I took a break 10 hours into its hacking thinking “fuck it”. I read the copies from others who were working the same hours as myself, noted I was at least 20 steps ahead of them and then tipped my hat down and lit up a cigarette. If you work too long or too hard on anything you start to see a connection everywhere in desperation of finishing the task. You also go thru too many cigarettes on matters silly and jejune as video games.



THE EVER NOTED PUNCHLINE THAT NEVER CAME……….?

She rolls over on the bed kicking out 2 spined paperback novels and grabs the alarm with her right hand. Still 2 hours before the alarm goes off. She sits up and pulls the covers over her and reaches between the sheets desperately paws for “that book- just the right book” and snaps the pulp to her nose so quick that the pages flake inches from her nose. With one long sigh she clenches her fists, tilts her neck back and slumps back down letting the book hold her.

It smells… brown copy stiff, a 1982 yellow acid swarming, dizzying, the owner was late that afternoon walking back to the office from the corner coffee shop because it was raining and the smoke from the nearby street stained the creases in the cover. Everything is bleeding colour through its must and dust towards a different time, maybe passages are underlined in pencil, a smudge from a phone number written in the back.

Here eyes poke open and glance through the triangle of light before her. She is thinking. She is thinking about “ah yes, this again” and doesn’t change the look on her face. It all soon falls into a pattern and soon days are delegated, assigned and a system is worked out. Everything works out to pace and the only fear is boredom since it usually leads to disinterest.

“What do they want me to do, hold a ticker-tape parade?” she scoffs.

The cat jumps on the bed and knocks the book off her face.

“Alright, you too,” she says and gets out of bed.