Friday, June 25, 2010

Korea vs Mighty Resonance (3)

(to first ep)
(to previous ep)


Bottom of my computer screen.
Little tabs for the applications.
One of them reads:
“Procedures for Organ…”.
Hover the cursor over it.
Full text reads:
“Procedures for Organising Interdivisional Transfer”.

Today is Wednesday.
Pumpkin soup.
I leave it open to cool.
Thinking: procedures.
Anatomical organs.
Church organs.

Think about Scott Walker for a while.
Wonder if he’s religious.
A strange man.
Could be. The music got weird in the 80s.
The Parents are religious.
Not religious, myself.
At least I don’t think about it.
Not really.
Not often.
“Opiate of the people”.
Maybe I could call the Parents tonight.

The park is pretty empty.
Rain falling in the soup.

There’s one.
By the corner.
Other side of the street.
Stopping people.
Talking to them (trying to).
Some kind of leaflet.
Definitely religious.
You can tell from the hair.
The clothes.
I pay attention.
Watch, listen.
Too far away.
Okay then.
Walk over to him.

Young guy.
Says that today is beautiful.
The rain isn’t important.
Money isn’t important.
A great revelation is coming.
What revelation, I ask.
Says something about harmony.
People always fighting.
Destroying the planet.
Not for much longer.
I’m examining his face.
The eyes out of focus.
Blood rushing to his face.
Seems happy though.
You haven’t answered the question, I say.
Tell me about the revelation.
Again: harmony.
Doesn’t matter if you don’t believe, he says.
His Church is going to change the world anyway
Church of Resonant Consciousness.
Talks about the founders.
Then something about the Pope.
Secret technologies.
Some Catholic conspiracy.
But it doesn’t matter anymore.
Church of Resonant Consciousness.
They have a magic device or something.
Harmonise the world.
Save it, etc.

On and on like this.
I check my watch.
I have to leave, I tell him.
But I’m interested in this.
Want to see the magic device.
He’s shaking his head.
You don’t understand, I tell him.
I have a lot of money.
I want to help.
But first I want to see the device.
Head shaking.
You can’t, he says.
Listen: I have a lot of money.
I will give it to you.
It doesn’t matter, he says.
Going to happen anyway.
You’re a damn idiot, I say.
Why are you even out here.
Give me a leaflet.
Guy says: out here to warn us.
The world will be saved.
But whatever.
The leaflet has an address on it.
Don’t need to keep talking to this bozo.

I walk back to the office.
Left the soup back on the bench.
Forget it.
Not hungry anymore.
The Pope, magic devices.
What a damn idiot.

Thursday, June 24, 2010

Korea vs Mighty Resonance (2)

(go to first ep)

Staring at the kinetic sculpture.
Chewing it over.

Mid-morning I walk the office.
Hi Mr Korea.
Yes Mr Korea.
Sorry Mr Korea am I in your way.
These poor guys.
In and out of their cubicles.
They're scared of me.
(There's a rumour about me.
That I carry a gun to work.
It's true.)

Coffee cup in my hand.
Who's religious here.
Damned if I know.
Maybe some of the girls in the typing pool.

A lot of empty desks.
What the hell.
Some kind of flu maybe.
Gotta check that up with Roger.
Screen savers.
Cartoons on the walls.
Little figurines.
This one desk has a figure on it:
Little guy in a leather apron.
Covered in blood.
Holding a chainsaw.
Little bucket of heads set down beside him.
Honestly sometimes I'm mystified.
You know?

Photo of a beach.
Twilight, the ocean.
Caption reads:
"Don't tell God how big your problems are.
"Tell your problems how big your God is."
Check the name plate.
Desk belongs to Glenda.
Think I know the one.
Funny looking.
Quote on the photo is unattributed.
I write it down.
Corner Roger in a meeting room.
Ask him about absenteeism.
Targets, etc.
Ask him if he's religious.
Turns out he's not.
He's spiritual, he says.

Think: strange.
Usually the instructions go somewhere.
Good like that.
This one's going nowhere.
What's that supposed to mean.

The coffee cup is waiting for you to make up your mind

Wednesday, June 23, 2010

Korea vs Mighty Resonance (1)

I wake up.
What the hell was that?
Some kind of dream.
I can barely remember it.
Weird though.

Take a breath.
Try to play it back.
It’s gone.

Looking up at the ceiling.
Well. That’s that.
Cold this morning.
Feet on the floor.
Get up.
Walk across the room.
Open the case.
Take out the next envelope.

Couple years back I took some leave.
Four weeks.
Didn’t feel like it.
They said I had to.
I thought: what the hell.
May as well try drugs.
LSD, mescaline, ketamine.
That sort of thing.
Tried amphetamines.
Three nights into that one, got restless.
Had an idea.
Decided to write these things.
Wrote them down on pieces of card.
Kept writing until I ran out of ideas.
Put them in envelopes.
Individually dated.
(Later I bought a case for it all.
A display case.
Antique, with a glass lid.
Like for jewellery.
Filed away in there.)

One for each day.
The idea is:
I open them when I wake up.
Read the instruction.
Follow it.

There's about 1500 left now.
Little bit nervous about the last one.
Think it reads:
But can't remember 100%.

Today is 23 June.
Card says:
Think: okay.
Not so hard this time.

Head in to work.


Monday, June 21, 2010

That’s another rejection letter, from an NZ literary journal (one of the Sleep Dep items – here).

I'm thinking that context might be an issue.
This site works OK as a home for these little bastards, whereas a magazine or journal… well I can understand they’d seem out of place.
The longer stories have the same problem. Not straight (or well-written) enough for a lit journal, not genre enough for a horror magazine.

Has anyone out there come across a journal/website/rich pervert that might be interested in this shit?
Let me know.

Meanwhile the blog IS alive, there WILL be posts, you HAVE been warned.
Coming soon:
Benji Korea
roadsign woman
& INCREDIBLE weight loss tips that REALLY WORK!!