Wednesday, July 29, 2009


Ty drifts from job to job. His parents despair of him.
He works as a kitchen hand and junior chef in two more cafes, then for six months as a builder’s apprentice.
Of this, Ty told Daryl: “It blew. Don’t ever get sucked into an apprenticeship. It’s fucken slave labour. Plus the industry’s gonna collapse any day now.”
Eventually he takes a job at a climbing centre in the Hutt Valley.
Of this, Ty told Daryl: “It’s funny ‘cos you get these fat guys come in and they’re hopeless, just hanging off the walls and freaking out. But it’s good, ‘cos there’s not many places you can go to learn about stuff like fear or self-reliance. To like learn how to deal with your mind. These guys are giving it a go, you have to be pro that.
“But they’re fucken funny. They like freeze up and shout and stuff. Their faces go red.”

The explosion in the café toilet continues to interest him. Considerable time is spent conducting “research” into theoretical concepts of time and the physical sciences.
Rich says: ‘He was pretty into it. Like not all the time, he’d go a few months without reading or whatever. But then if he got an idea he’d be back into it and you wouldn’t see him for like days.’

Initially Aaron visits to the flat to brainstorm re: the circumstances of the explosion and the disappearance of the man they’d come to know as “Doctor Who”.
Says Aaron: ‘He was looking at it from every angle. Science shit, eastern mystical shit – like all this “time is an illusion” shit. I mean “woosh”, you know? Straight over a brother’s head.’
Ty explains the founding principle of his obsession to Aaron. It is this:

If Doctor Who had discovered the secret of time travel, he’d taken it with him. His notes and papers had been either destroyed in the fire or transported back in time (an search of the alley turned up no sign of papers, either “contemporary” or “months old”)
However, the concept having been discovered, it could now be re-discovered. It was in fact more likely / “pre-disposed” to be re-discovered.
The café staff, as first hand witnesses to the explosion (or “maiden flight” as Ty referred to it) were in a better position than anyone to “reverse engineer the result”.

Aaron: ‘He reckoned he could work it out and follow Doctor Who through time. Which is cool, but he was into all of this complex stuff, it seemed like a long shot. I told him to keep in touch and let me know, but we lost touch. Just how it happens.’
Says Rich: ‘Ty stopped returning Aaron’s calls ‘cos he reckoned Aaron was a tool and a bit racist. Dunno if you’ve met the guy, but…’ (laughs) ‘Can’t really fault that.’

Meanwhile the café is rebuilt and, after being re-decorated and re-named, is re-opened for business.

It is much more popular with the punters now.
Julie works the counter at “Redux” for three weeks before handing in notice, saying to friends that the cafe “had an unpleasant vibe”.
Aaron remained as head cook, a position he still holds. He continues to tell new staff the story of Doctor Who, from Julie’s first encounter, through to his own heroic intervention, to its climactic explosion and the momentary appearance of “floating alien heads”.
Says Cassie, now working front of house: ‘He told me how he gave some guy the idea of time travel, and then he blew up the toilet? I assumed he was high. That same night he scored my flatmate and they did it in my bed.’
Aaron keeps his time travel songs as an iPod playlist, played whenever he grows nostalgic for the café’s “golden age”. As months pass, the playlist loses precedence to his growing devotion to the Walker Brothers.

Ty befriends Rich, a co-worker at the climbing centre. Three weeks later a space opens in Rich’s flat, and Ty moves in.
Says Rich: ‘Straight away I get that the guy’s a fucken genius. Some people don’t figure that out about Ty, ‘cos of the skateboard thing, but the dude has it going on. Like I think his IQ is up around 170.’ (laughs) ‘Makes you feel pretty stupid!’

Rich becomes a sounding board for Ty’s theories, which are talked over at length. An example, from an afternoon at the climbing centre:

RICH: I thought you said the guy disappeared.
TY: Yeah but back in time, right? So he could still exist in the present. Actually depending on his... itinerary, there could be a few of him.
RICH: How’s that?
TY: Like at a future date, he goes back to what is now our past...
RICH: Right, of course.
TY: So really want to find at least one of him. That would be ideal. But failing that, just try to track his movements through, like, space and time.

(a pause, dealing with customers)

RICH: How would you do that?
TY: Well it’s assuming a bit, but say there’s an explosion every time he jumps. Right? I’m reading through papers and stuff, looking for explosions since his first appearance.
RICH: (laughs) And?
TY: There’s a few of them, eh. But they might be normal.
RICH: “Normal explosions”.
TY: Gas or whatever. But I go out and I ask people in the area whether they remember, at any stage before the explosion, seeing a crazy guy with his skin smoking or his clothes on fire. You tend to remember. Also I tell them to keep an eye out in case they see him later, right? 'Cos he might be going forward.
RICH: You actually do this?
TY: Yeah man.
RICH: You go out and talk to people about explosions and whatever.
TY: Yeah man. Gets me out of the house.
RICH: You found him? Like has anyone seen him?
TY: (shrugs) Maybe. He might have blown up this place on the Terrace a few months back, but it's hard to be sure.

(continued soon)

Thursday, July 23, 2009

Corrected Proof for Expo

Remember when summer lasted all day and you and your mate were going to go swimming but first you had to visit your grandparents. Your grandfather had a lawn bowls set and your grandmother sat in the shade of a “sun-brella” and drank. The radio was always warning you about something, and summer was defined as “the period of finest development, perfection, or beauty previous to any decline: the summer of life.” Probably your grandparents have passed on now but don’t dwell on it.


Who are we and what do we do, we make plastic lawn furniture. We make round white plastic tables and plastic chairs in sets of four which come with. There’s a whole in the middle of the table and we make “sun-brellas” which go in the whole. They come in three colours. White with yellow and purple stripes, White with yellow and blue stripes, White with yellow and orange stripes.
That’s all we do. We make them in Hamilton and we send them up as far as Auckland and down as far as Tokoroa. We used to make BBQs but the contractors we had for the gas tanks were useless, it was a nightmare. & also safety regulations.

“My husband and I are remodelling our home to include a terrace garden, patio and conservatory. What can DADCO do to help?” – Siri

“Hi can I buy a table and set of chairs please.” – Carol
Yes you can Carol but you have not sent us your address or phone number.

“We’ve just bought a home in Warkworth (our first!) and love the look of the furniture in the DADCO calendar – do you deliver?” – Ben
Ben go read it again we do not send any further up than Auckland so no.


At DADCO we have a motto: “It’s our job”.
We have it up in places around the warehouse & also we had it printed onto 12 “mouse-mats”.


At DADCO we’re ambivalent about the fact our customer service is nothing flash.

We recognise that mistakes happen. Sometimes orders will get shipped late, or to the wrong address, or else not all the items will be included. Oh well “that’s life.”

You, the customer, are not always our priority. We’ll give it a go, but we’ve also got other business to worry about. Things going wrong behind the scenes, etc. For instance some of our contractors are bloody useless.

If you’ve got a problem with us there’s an answering machine, the number is this: 275 7800 leave your number & a message. But don’t expect us to get back to you if you’re shirty.
(& also have a quick think before you ring maybe you’re just having a bad day? Well don’t take it out on us)


Hello my name is Don Cumble. I worked four years in the warehouse as Operations Manager until April this year when they made me MD.
I would say the best part of my job is that I don’t work in the warehouse! Ha ha no offence guys.
My job is pretty good, I get paid more than I used to. But sometimes it’s difficult. Like when I get a call from someone and I don’t know what to tell them – I may be the boss but I certainly don’t have all the answers!

So enough about Don. 2004 has been a big year for us, we’ve moved to the new premises which is good. More space to move around in. I don’t know what this place is exactly, someone said it used to be a hospital. Anyway it’s big. We’ve got maybe half of the top floor for our office and most of the bottom floor for our warehouse.
I went for a walk the other day just to see how big the place is, and let me tell you it’s spooky there out back. I was in this long dirty corridor where the lights weren’t working. I think there was maybe a window at the end but it wasn’t letting much light in. And with all these doorways!
It got me thinking: if this place used to be a hospital does that mean it’s haunted? People could have died in here.
Could our office be haunted? Something to look out for!

The other good news in 2004 is that the Board have come back with a decision and we’re definitely not starting up BBQs again this year. “Not this year and not next year” – their exact words. Whew!
Ollie from Accounts wants me to say something. Here goes:
“Bell Lagosa is dead”. Oops, no, ha ha. I’ve done it wrong.
“Bela Lugosi’s dead”.
(Is that right????) Sorry Ollie, I don’t understand that one at all!
!! – hey that is so spooky I was talking about ghosts just a minute ago!!!!!!!!!


I know I said I’d do this but I don’t have time. Get one of the girls to type something up but I want to see it first before it goes to print.
Cheers Dennis.


To order anything in our catalogue you’ll need the order form. THIS IS NOT THE ORDER FORM. To get the order form send a fax through to 275 7990. If that doesn’t work try 275 7995.

If you can’t get through to either of them after a couple of gos then try 467 9415 but you’ll have to wait because it’s a home fax & only gets checked on weekends.

Also there is an email address which you can write to - I think that's right unless you have to put "WWW" in front of it.


Table (white w hole) 602201-A $95.00

Chairs (white, set of 4) 709931-00 $114.80

Sun-brella (white w/ yellow & purple)* 11118879346-YELLOW $39.95

Sun-brella (white w/ yellow & blue)* 12978462046-YELLOW $39.95

Sun-brella (white w/ yellow & orange)* 11119784694-YELLOW $69.95

*please note that a sun-brella is just that & will not stop rain.

Wednesday, July 22, 2009

Problems with Our Elephants (1)

(for Quincey, who's had the blues this week)

- and is still an ongoing concern at our zoo. While there have been no major “incidents” since Mumba, both of the remaining animals show clear signs of continued abnormality.
I will attempt to summarise the situation as it has played out.
We have (or had) three elephants here, all of them Asiatic/Elephas maximus.
• The large male mentioned earlier (“Mumba”, E. m. indicus) who was thought to be about 35 years old. Purchased from Bangalore.
• A female (“Gita”, E. m. indicus), now 27 years old. This animal suffered an injury to her front left leg in her infancy and limps. Purchased from Tambour & Sulliven, Bangkok.
Mumba and Gita were acquired in 1993 with hopes to form a mating pair; no success.
• A younger and much smaller male, 9 years old (“Teeny”, E. m. sumtranus) acquired in 2004 from a zoo in Cambodia deemed inhumane / unable to care for him.


Started 6 weeks ago. Elephants exhibited tendency to stand at the bars of the enclosure, facing out (i.e. “staring” at patrons). Noted but not formally reported.
At ~ same time Brent Haskill (custodial staff) recalls hearing voices, although didn’t ascribe these to the animals and didn’t report. Haskill recalls “loud voices, nearby” as he cleaned, the now-familiar “Pum” sound.
~1 week later elephants developed eye problems. Custodial staff / zoo patrons turning their backs on the elephants would sometimes turn back to find the animals looking at them fixedly and w/ the animals’ eyes much larger and artificial-seeming.
These transformations at first very short lived, “now-you-see-it, now-you-don’t”, although later could be sustained for a minute or longer.
No photographic record of this, despite numerous attempts.
The large eyes are described as being “doll like”, round, unlidded, and seemingly superimposed over the face, no irises but large black “pupils” with “sort of a wedge missing”. Custodial staff have described the eyes as being like buttons, being like those of a toy or “old-fashioned cartoon character”, or as “Clockwork Orange without the lashes”.

No action taken on initial reports (these were misunderstood to be jokes / exaggerations). However I have now seen this for myself and can confirm it is very strange / disturbing, and comparisons with cartoons are spot-on.

The “new eyes” when they appear seem made of hard material such as plastic or porcelain, but not sure.
Diagnosis made difficult at first as elephants would not “perform” for vet.

Three weeks ago junior custodian Tanya Pilrig tendered notice. Tanya came direct from cleaning elephant enclosure, was visibly upset.
Received report from Tanya during exit interview the next day:

I was in there with Mumba, the others were in the back cage. And this voice keeps going: ‘Pum, pum-pum’, like someone singing almost. I thought I was imagining it. But then I turn around and Gita and Teeny are up at the door and they both have big eyes.
And I turn to Mumba and he has big eyes too, and then he just sits back on his bum and has his hoofs in the air and he’s watching me.
So I don’t know what to do, so I turn off the hose and I’m going to run for it, like I’m really freaking out. And then Mumba’s smiling at me! He’s got big teeth, like human teeth, or like cartoon teeth. And he says: ‘PUM’. Really loud. And the others go ‘Pum-pum!’, like they’re joining in.
And then Mumba has a moustache and this little hat on his head. And I don’t know where it came from but there’s a table with all this shit on it, a tea pot and tea cups. And he’s holding the teapot, going ‘PUM-PUM’ with a pipe in his mouth, like he’s asking do I want tea. I just lost it. I dropped everything and ran.
There is no way you will ever get me back into that place.

This type of problem witnessed on later occasions, different variations but always ending w/ appearance of table & tea pot. Most pronounced with Mumba, who staff have witnessed w/ brown or tan moustache & wearing hat or waistcoat.
Vet has since witnessed this and has a theory that the animals are “attempting to develop & maintain human characteristics with the intention of tricking / persuading us into their release”.
Zoo staff consider this theory “possible but unlikely”.
They wish to stress that the eyes, teeth (& Mumba’s moustache) exhibited are in no way convincing or reassuring. Atmosphere created by these changes described as “bizarre” / “profoundly disturbing”, & having “the qualities of a bad dream or nightmare”.

Vet has speculated situation might change/improve if someone were to accept the offer of tea but no volunteers.


Elephants began speaking words in English approx two weeks ago. 1st instance of this witnessed by Tom Lockhart (who handed in resignation but was persuaded to stay on swapped shifts). Tom made following statement:

I was dumping feed in the main enclosure, and Teeny came running in from the back cage with the big eyes, and he was shouting “I AM A - I AM A - I AM A -”
He had a high pitched voice, like a little kid. He ran straight at me.
I don’t think he was trying to antagonise me. I think he was just happy it was feeding time. But it scared me.

Over the past 2 weeks have had more reports of spoken English, as follows. NB: reports agree that Teeny speaks in voice of a male child, Gita has a “strident female voice”, and Mumba’s voice was “deep and calm” or “a mellow baritone”.

“WHAT-HO, WHAT-HO” – Mumba, on 12 July.
“CORN ON THE COB” – Teeny, 14 July (again @ feeding time, although NB there was no corn in his feed)
“I GUARANTEE THAT YOU WILL NOT” – Mumba, 14 July (NB June Carter believes in this case she overheard Mumba "talking to himself in his cage")

(Cont. overleaf)

Friday, July 17, 2009

You Are Incorrigible

Oh no!

Oscar’s slipped from out of his mother’s grasp. & oh look – he’s running across the train platform!

OSCAR: Ha ha ha ha! I got away! I’m running across the train platform!

Oscar go back, your mother will be so worried. Oh look – he’s running between the passengers, ducking underneath the skirts of the ladies. & the ladies give a great shout of alarm!


OSCAR: Ha ha ha ha!

Oscar that is no way for little boys to behave. Now you and your mother will be late for your train.

OSCAR: I don’t care! I’m never going back – never!

Oh Oscar, you know that you must get on board. You must go back. It’s for your own good. Your mother only wants what’s – oh look what you’ve done now!

OSCAR: Ha ha ha ha!

Oscar you’ve taken the legs off the men passengers and put them on the bodies of the lady passengers!

OSCAR: I’ve taken off their legs – ha ha ha!

And you’ve taken the legs off the lady passengers and put them on the men. Now they’re tumbling around & falling about everywhere! Oh you naughty boy, is that any way to behave in public?

MOTHER: Oscar!? Oscar!

Oscar your mother is calling you.

OSCAR: Ha ha ha ha! I don’t care!

Oscar if you do not behave yourself I will be forced to introduce new characters into the narrative.

Oh Oscar – don’t blow a raspberry at me!

OSCAR: I don’t care, I don’t care! Nyah! I’m not going back – not ever!

I have never known a boy as naughty as you are, Oscar. & look – here’s an Agent pushing his way through the crowd.

AGENT: Down! Everyone get down!

THE PASSENGERS: Help, help us! Our legs!

The agent has a gun, Oscar. He’ll shoot you if you don’t co– oh Oscar, what are you doing!?

OSCAR: Ha ha ha ha! I’m drinking all the orange fizzy at the kiosk!

Why Oscar you are incorrigible. You know you’re not allowed to drink orange. & look what’s happened now.

OSCAR: Going all funny. Ha. Ha.

Yes Oscar, you’re allergic to orange and look what’s happened. You’ve lost control of your body & now you are mutating.

AGENT: (shocked whisper) Too late.

OSCAR: Chan…ging…

Yes Oscar. You’re changing and growing. Look at how you’ve upset the proprietor of the kiosk, he’s running away. Who’ll mind the till at the kiosk now he’s run away?

AGENT: Clear the station, quickly!

I’m sorry Mr Agent, but I’m afraid there’s no point firing your gun at Oscar now. All of that orange he’s drunk has set off his allergy.


Oh Oscar, if only you'd listened.

MOTHER: Oscar!?!


Sunday, July 12, 2009

"It's a Trap"

Dark shape moving overhead
something tremendous
tremendous impact shakes the earth

A massive footfall

And it
(the shadow)
moves on,
and in its wake we have
pink dust, like
pink snow
falling down around us

You don't even notice,
you don't have time to lose,
you're up and moving

to find some clothes
to get dressed
to head out quickly
to cross the room
to a door, leading
to a passage
to a flight of stairs, leading down
to darkness;

to rub at your eyes
to hurry
to the bottom
to slip through a gap, closing, very narrow
to feel the walls close around your shoulders
to wriggle through, & out

to the light
to open spaces
to noises & people, rushing,
to almost forget
to check before running across
to the far side

to the side street
to the alley
to the path which leads
to the park
to the bus stop
to check your watch

to creep in through the basement carpark
to creep in late
to punch the button
to climb inside, be drawn upwards
to punch the clock

to work
to work
to stare out the window
to type to index to squint & agree
to hold, to wait, to drum your fingers
to work, to fidget,
to work

to stumble along
to take your bearings &
to realise you're lost
to realise you're tired, but then
to hear something
to listen
to hear them somewhere nearby, &
to carry on, looking

to crash against the mattress, exhausted, &
to try to think what you need
to remember for tomorrow,
to fall sleep wondering

to wake later in the night, remembering
to stare up at the ceiling, remembering

to work
to work
to lift them one by one
to carry each of them over & stack them
to carry them stack them load them up onto the trucks,
to step back,
to wipe the sweat from your face, then look
to the rest of it waiting
to be shifted, stacked & loaded

to exhaustion at the end of it,
to feel so fucking tired, &
to lean against the wall &
to wonder where all the money goes

to a bench
to sit
to take off your shoes before rising
to step inside
to silence
to the shade of a large cool room
to the muttering of dozens of people
to step amongst the kneeling forms
to find a place of your own
to kneel
to mutter
to mutter for hours
to barely know what you're saying, but simply
to ask
to say “please”
to repeat that word many times
to ask for relief
to politely ask for the pressure to relent
to ask
to be pardoned
to beg
to kneel & beg, & while so doing,
to try
to ignore the cold stone
to ignore the pain it is causing your knees &
to put aside your mounting suspicion that no-one is listening
to you

to work
to work
to lean against the wall &
to examine your hands
to admit
to yourself: it's not getting easier
to do this
to work & work &
to make it to that magical fucking pint
to the whiskey & the smoke
to that moment of peace

to accustom yourself
to a certain amount of pain
to accept it as inevitable, but
to admit
to yourself: it's getting harder
to ignore

to a waiting room
to wait
to stare about &
to wait
to be called
to stare at the faces of the others
to consider which seem stronger, which weaker
to hear your name
to walk in & sit
to bow your head
to listen
to them tell you what you need
to stop eating or stop doing
to breath a deep acceptance &
to nod;
to take it on the chin

to work, to work
to wake
to sudden pain, & then
to wait while they make the call
to watch them come in
to be lifted over
to a stretcher, carried
to the car, driven
to the ward, wheeled
to the bed, shown the controls
to lift it & lower it,
to wait there, to wait there
to take it on the chin, then

to a table & then
to a box & then
to a hole in the ground & then
to what?
to wait there?
to wait there & then at the sound of a trumpet
to be lifted up & carried away
to somewhere
to some great reward
to Heaven
to Jesus
to Santa
to life everlasting;
to be congratulated on your conduct &
to be told: “Yes”

Tuesday, July 7, 2009

Last Train to Trans-Hyperlink

The exquisite corpse is once again on the move, and I stand on high ground in a white robe, sunglasses and silly hat - exactly like a Pet Shop Boy circa the Disco 2 album (see diagramme opposite) - and point the way.

Don't read the first entry yet if you want to join in. Go straight there instead.

But I am not finished, for again I am pointing. Perhaps I am Chris Lowe, the silent* Pet Shop Boy, for I am pointing only.

I point here, to the KITCHEN GUN.
(if that's too many to sort through use THIS as navigation)

* a misnomer, given "Paninaro" and "We All Feel Better In The Dark".