Casino soul in Hell

Casino soul in hell

I have a dream. No, not that one born of struggles

for civil rights.

This another, anyway,

wrong tense, I’ll start again.

I had a dream, well more of an awake dream.

I don’t want to use the ‘v’ word, ideas above my station,

and I’m not William Blake.

There was a man, I think it was the gambling man-I couldn’t see his face

but I could smell the money.

 

He was standing in a bleak town square, smiling, shrugging like he does best.

The chinos looked a bit stained,

Jacket was grubby but the smile was shiny clean.

He was looking around him, for someone,

desperately,

for something, urgently,

in his pockets, phone maybe,

but there was no one there,

nothing there.

 

Old style, red phone box in the centre right,

fingers grabbing at the numbers,

‘hello, hello, hello…this is me, I need help, a helicopter, someone will recognise me, please, please.’

Silence.

 ‘Help me…’ screamed like a final shout for life.

 

A girl sees him, recognition in her eyes and a shout on her lips along

with a pointing finger of bitterness.

Others gather round, calling out, shouting;

dozens, then hundreds, then thousands,

packing the square around him, snatching

at his clothes, his body, tearing, dismembering

and eating.

 

Then they’re gone.

 

Finally, a helicopter is above for Saigon-style rescue

but it’s too late except to secure the bones for a

reliquary. Or to give to the dog.

 

Eating people is wrong in almost every conceivable circumstance,

unless you’re in the Andes

but if there’s no cake with vengeance,

there’s always long pork.

Not in Kansas anymore

It’s three years today since I moved to New Zealand; probably three of the most strange and challenging years of my life. Holidays in different countries are fine and the first couple of months here were the same. But then you remember there's no going home because home is here not there. Homesickness comes across as a form of depression and eventually became just that. Forty six job rejections in eight months didn't help either.

 

The universe wants to play with you (3)

Merlin Phoenix Clinton didn't enjoy driving at night. he had to pull the seat closer to the wheel so he could peer myopically into the dark, clenching it tight as he could. He didn't like being spoken to when driving either. Or talk shows on the radio. he especially didn’t like Aaron talking to him at night or any other time. As they passed the 'no doctor, no hospital, one cemetery' sign in Waihola, he knew he would start up. He always did.

 

*I love that sign. it’s so stupid.

Merlin ignored him but it didn’t work

*Do you like the business cards*no, i don't like the business cards*you don't like the embossed hound on them* yes that’s good. i just don't think you should have put undercover operatives on it*but that's what we are*i know but we don't want anyone else to know that do we*why*because we won't be undercover anymore if they know we're undercover, will we*ah ok, i didn't think of that*anyway, i don’t think we need business cards. i mean, who can we show them to*o k. i could redo them to make them more neutral, so we can give them out to contacts. just names and cell numbers*ok that might be worth it

33 minutes later, the car bumped over a hole, slowed and stopped outside a building. They looked up.

*No light on Merl. actually, no roof on it.

 

Nothing but the sky. Merlin got his notebook out and leafed through it.

*fuck. give me the map.*we’ve gone to the wrong house haven’t we*yeah, right road, wrong part of town. that’s the problem with the whole no phone, no gps, laptop idea* i need to practice my map reading I suppose. long time since the scouts.

Ten minutes later, outside the right house, it was quiet and it seemed the same inside too. No curtains or blinds were closed giving a view clear through the house to the back garden.

*ironic we have no electronics on us but the whole house is covered*big house for one person, isn’t it*when she turns up, we'll stay for about 5 minutes and that should do the job.*shit, look, the light's gone on, she must have been sitting in the dark*maybe she parks at the back of the house. i'll start the car and see if the noise makes her look out. I'm sure she'll recognise the car from the other day*Merl, drive round the back, she's just put a jacket on.

 They parked on the other side of the road, diagonally behind. After a few minutes, a woman came out, stared in their direction, got in the car and drove down the hill.

*this is perfect Aaron, we'll stay with her for 5 minutes then clear off back to the office*can we get something to eat then, i'm hungry as.

Merlin and Aaron sat in the tiny room that was their office at a small table wedged against a wall, eating KFC. The rest of the wall was taken up by computer gadgetry stacked almost to the ceiling.

*my daughter asked me about the ethics of banking this morning and how I can justify doing it. i just said would you prefer we couldn’t afford food. that’s a cop out she said*she’s right though but it doesn’t matter. I don’t particularly like some of the things we do but if we didn’t do it someone else would. anyway, we were offered the franchise not the Wilkins brothers and they’d be far worse*but you’re saying the same as me*no I’m not. I don’t believe in ethics at all. Can’t see the point to be honest. I spent 20 years as an engineer, long hours, dirty, tiring and I never got as much as I earn now for driving round in a car with you. That of course, is the down side* thanks, I appreciate that. Do you ever wonder what this is all about* this woman or the whole thing? *both *not very often. It pays our wages. anyway, enough smoko time, we need to listen some of this audio.

 

Oscar, you’re an arsehole and your rude. A little bit of sympathy would be nice. You sent me plenty about Rick’s tumour and photos and I didn’t complain. The same car that followed me was outside the house tonight when I left. 2 middle aged men were in it, they didn’t look dangerous but they could be. They had moustaches like that old 118 118 advert. I think I’ll go to the police. What do you think?

H

X

___________________________________________________________________________

Ok, I’m sorry. I’ve never been to New Zealand but I can’t imagine who would be following you, you’re just not interesting enough. You should go to the police but that might be who it is. Rick is doing well by the way. Let me know what happens.

Oscar

 Part four

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

If I had a hammer



I'd, err, hammer in a nail.
Hopefully, that's got your attention. My last two posts, 'The universe wants to play with you', are a bit of an experiment. For the last couple of years as well as writing, painfully slowly, the occasional piece for redline, I've also been doing some fiction writing, even more painfully slowly.  Up to now, this consists of a chaotic mass/mess of fragments, whose only connection is probably in my head.

With all of my writing but in particular fiction, I find the real difficulty is transferring the thoughts in my mind onto the page. This is mainly because I'm such a slow typist compared to how quickly I can mentally 'write' so it  actually becomes frustrating.

Anyway, rather than leaving it in a file on the laptop, I thought I'd have a go at posting it here and rewriting bits as I go along. I don't do this because I think what I've written is great art but for the more mundane reason that as I felt compelled to write it, I also feel the necessity to put it in the public domain.
Enjoy or not...

The universe wants to play with you (2)

Don't send me any more of this crap. I have enough problems as it is. The cafe was closed by the council for a week because an idiot tourist said they found mouse shit in their rice salad. it was a raisin. just leave me alone, I don't need reminding that my sister is a nutter.

Part three

The universe wants to play with you

I discovered something yesterday. Or at least I think I did. You can never be too sure these days with all the strange things that are happening around the place. And anyway, my grasp on reality has never been the same since reading Philip K Dick’s Exegesis. At least the weird dreams have stopped for now-I think. So I was on the side of the library waiting to cross the road to the café and through the window, I saw a girl, well, a woman who was the spitting image of me. I didn’t have my glasses on because vanity always gets the better of me but it was just like looking in a mirror; she was so identical. I moved my arms to see if she did the same; she didn’t. That got a man staring at me. I crossed the road, peering intently at her. As I went in, she looked towards me and it seemed like she quickly turned away. I got a coffee and went to sit down and she’d gone. As if by magic which is I suppose the correct thing for a doppelganger to do. I couldn’t see her through the window in either direction. I took the coffee and sat outside so I could have a smoke. It’s an uneasy feeling having a doppelganger unless I was just hallucinating again. I should have asked if anyone else saw the resemblance. It reminded me of years ago when I was crossing a busy road in London and stopped at the island in the middle and out of nowhere a girl popped up and asked me the directions to Abney Park cemetery which was about 20 metres away. If that wasn’t odd enough, the next Saturday in the same place, what seemed the same girl asked me again. I had to lie down after that. Weird coincidence with someone with short term memory loss or something else? A few days before the doppelganger cropped up, I was driving back into town in the dark-first time I’d left here for almost a year-noticed a car staying behind me which is unusual as I drive a lot slower since picking up two speeding tickets the same day last year. A bit paranoid lately despite being tooled up, especially being a woman at night and with all the stories hear about roaming mobs of Satanists or whatever this week’s scare is. I took a detour off the main drag, pulled over for a smoke for 5 minutes. No-one followed. When I got back to SH1, the same car was coming along as if it had just restarted. I put on a bit of speed but it kept the same distance behind the whole way home, even though I did a ticky tour. I think there were two men it. Haven’t seen them since. No idea what any of this means.

How’s Rick?

H

X
Part Two

How to Build a Universe That Doesn’t Fall Apart Two Days Later - Philip K Dick

 

I recently began delving into Philip K. Dick's Exegesis again, having run out of steam last time. Despite its length, it is really worth reading. This speech I'm reposting here, is a good introduction to some of the ideas in the exegesis and is also quite amusing.










First, before I begin to bore you with the usual sort of things science fiction writers say in speeches, let me bring you official greetings from Disneyland. I consider myself a spokesperson for Disneyland because I live just a few miles from it — and, as if that were not enough, I once had the honour of being interviewed there by Paris TV.
For several weeks after the interview, I was really ill and confined to bed. I think it was the whirling teacups that did it. Elizabeth Antebi, who was the producer of the film, wanted to have me whirling around in one of the giant teacups while discussing the rise of fascism with Norman Spinrad... an old friend of mine who writes excellent science fiction. We also discussed Watergate, but we did that on the deck of Captain Hook’s pirate ship. Little children wearing Mickey Mouse hats — those black hats with the ears — kept running up and bumping against us as the cameras whirred away and Elizabeth asked unexpected questions. Norman and I, being preoccupied with tossing little children about, said some extraordinarily stupid things that day. Today, however, I will have to accept full blame for what I tell you, since none of you are wearing Mickey Mouse hats and trying to climb up on me under the impression that I am part of the rigging of a pirate ship.