Thursday, July 29, 2010

Midsummer Uulahh

'Tis Midsummer
& a warm mist falls
& so I will stretch out my tongue to its fullest extent
the stretching a downwards motion –
– for I have no jaw

& with lolling tongue draped moist along neck
I will crane myself back
& present my partial face to the heavens
to catch
& taste the soft rain
while flowers with women's bodies
cavort about my person

Such bliss
as was known
by things without form
in years
lost to memory

The flowers would have me sing
& so I sing

My fingers grope the humid air
to feel such yearning
& for every yearning fibre to find such contentment

'Tis Midsummer
& on all sides men approach, enshrouded
as a warm mist falls
the objects they wield indistinct, unknown
rifles, or brooms
or attachments from vacuum cleaners
- who can say
who can say

The flowers & I
convulse as one
& the flowers would have me sing
& so I sing

Tuesday, July 27, 2010

Korea vs Mighty Resonance (7)


Three people here.
Gathered around, facing me.
& at least one
(the older guy)
is psychologically abnormal.
Wide eyed.
Not reacting to anything.
Just smiling.
Very unsettling. Especially with the time distortion.
He’s like a doll.
Like the figurine back in Reception.
Then there’s this guy.
Their leader/manager.
Priest, maybe.
Name’s Barry.
He’s smiling too.
Being friendly.
Talking a lot.
Says: there’s been a misunderstanding.
I know the guy you mean. The one you met.
His name’s Shannon.
Affiliated with the Church.
Sympathetic to the cause, etc.
But not one of us.
Church keeps minimal staff.
Not currently recruiting for new members.
Not that sort of Church.
Evangelical vs post-evangelical.
Blah blah blah.
I let him talk.
Check the older guy.
Just sitting there, half smiling.
And the other guy.
The first one. From reception.
Acting like everything’s fine.
Except he’s worried about something.
Me, probably.

Tell Barry:
OK, stop now.
I understand.
Explain the device.
There is no device, he says.
All a misunderstanding.
Say: don’t jerk me around Barry.
We both know there’s a device.
First guy’s up on his feet.
That’s enough.
The office is closed.
Think you better go.
& Barry’s going ha ha.
Trying to smooth things over.
Think what Doug means is we’re keen to get home.
Dinner etc.
Tell them: yes.
Said that before.
Noticed that when I came in.
Your office is closed.
& so is the recruitment agency.
So is the web design company.
Whole floor is closed.
Only people here are you.
& me.

Let them chew that over for a second.
Think back to my lunch break.
Decide to bullshit them.

Tell them:
I don’t work for the Catholics.
But that could change.
Catholics don’t know about you.
But that could change.
Lot of things could change.
Way of the world.
Constant state of entropy, etc.
For instance:
I don’t intend to hurt you.
& you are not in danger.
Not right now.
But that could change.

Quick read of the room.
Doug’s the weak link.
Take a step towards him.
He’s trembling.
Say to him:
Me & the Catholics.
Not exactly simpatico.
But you guys. Don’t know anything about you.
Don’t know your agenda.
Don’t know if you’re dangerous.
To me. To my interests.
(See what I did there.)

Barry says: wait.
Let’s relax, I’ll get you a coffee.
Let’s talk this one over.
Goes over to the kitchenette.
Slowly, in slow time.
Starts making coffee.
Asks: how do you take it.
Tell him: doesn’t matter.
Make it however you want.
I’m not drinking it.
Barry nods. Stops what he’s doing.
Walks back.
Sits on the edge of a desk.
Arms crossed.
Pauses for a minute.

You’ve got it wrong.
It’s not a device.
Nothing like that.
Ask him: so what is it.
Nothing man-made, he says.
A resonator.
Massive resonant object.
Is it big enough to save the world - don’t know.
Could be.
Worth a try.

Older guy says:
Barry. He doesn’t know.

First time the guy’s spoken.
Weird voice. Like a clarinet.
Says: he doesn’t know what you’re talking about.
He saw the picture in Reception. Read “FEDIAR”.
He’s guessing.
Barry says: who are you.

Who am I, I say.
Good question.
Life keeps moving & changing.
Question like that becomes hard to answer.

Funny thing.
Don’t feel anxious anymore.

Allow me to explain how the whole entropy thing works

Sunday, July 25, 2010

Korea vs Mighty Resonance (6)


Bell rings.
Lift doors open.
Step into the lift lobby.

It's empty.
Wine-coloured carpet.
Off-white wallpaper.

Three offices on this floor.
Recruitment agency.
Web design company.
& Church of Resonant Consciousness.

Walk over.
Time is moving very slow here.
Every movement distinct.
Taking place in the present.

Door's ajar.
Reception area.
Unattended. Very much like an office.
Shelves, files, paperwork.
Wall planners.
Voices in the next room.
Calm, pragmatic: Commit to deliver by Monday.
Reception desk has a security monitor.
B/w image of lift lobby.
Little figurine beside the computer.
One of those art models.
Wooden body, hinged joints
No face.
Voice next door says: If he gives you trouble, let me know.
& I'll sort him out.

Always used to frighten me.
When I was a kid, I mean.
These wooden figurines.
Look around the waiting area.
A couch. Magazines.
Not religious ones.
Just regular magazines.
But this is interesting:
Framed print on the wall.
A geometric pattern.
Concentric circles, transections.
& a word in the centre:

Voice says: He can say what he likes.
But the contract was for Monday.
End of story.

Think: What is it with religious people.
Always playing around with geometry.
Mathematics, diagrams.
Reminds me of HR.
Executive management, etc.
Harmony, harmonisation.
Always with the diagrams, code words.
Reaching for something intangible.
Improved, integrated systems.
You can't point to it.
Can't touch it.
Get worried that maybe it doesn't exist.
So out come the fucking diagrams.
Circles and boxes and lines.
Like you know what you're talking about.
Here: harmony.
Here: seven key principles.
Mutual respect, customer focus.
Here: seven chakras.
Twelve stations of the cross.
& over here, FEDIAR.
Whatever that's supposed to mean.

– Wait a minute.
Damn it. Damn it.
Check my pockets.
Jacket, slacks.
Hands and fabric shifting through slow-motion time.
Damn it. Yeah.
Left my phone at the office.

Voice says:
Excuse me.
I turn.
Middle aged man in the doorway.
Excuse me can I help you.
I say: Maybe.
Who's in charge here.
The office is closed, he says.
What do you want.
Tell him: I want to talk to whoever's in charge.
Spoke to one of your representatives.
Earlier today. Guy in the street.
Said you have a magic device that's going to save the world.
Man says nothing.
Just stands there.
Motionless in slowed-down time.
Staring at me.

I'm used to people staring at me.
When people stare at me, I stare back.

Tell him: I'm here to see the device.
Pull your thumb out.
Go get whoever's in charge.

The key difference is that HR use PowerPoint

Saturday, July 17, 2010

Special Little Man



Hey guess what, I had coffee with Marti and look! Look! Look!


You’re not looking. Look! -- What’s the matter?

Nothing, nothing.

Bad day?


Aww. But look!

(she is holding a DVD box set. it is the second season of True Blood)

Oh, cool.

Pfft. C’mere.


You want to talk to Mum about your bad day?


(a pause)


OK. Just a sec.

(she leaves. he drinks the rest of the Ribena. rain falls into the garden outside.)

(she returns, now wearing horn rimmed glasses, a blue bathrobe and hair curlers)

Aww here’s my Rojie.


Awww here. Have a hug. Tell Mum about your bad day.

It was okay.

(she pulls a pack of cigarettes out from the robe and lights one)

Did you feel the earthquake this morning?


Felt like a big one. It was early, at like 10 or something. The sky got dark and the whole building shook. You didn’t feel it? At first I thought it was like a bomb or a missile or something… plane crash.

My Rojie. Worried about plane crashes. You’re my nervous little guy.

Yeah – but then it was weird, because afterwards I kept finding all this dust in my office, like white powder or something. It was getting into my shoes and everything. And then fucking Korea was –


Sorry Mum. Sorry. It’s that guy, he’s like… he had me on the edge of a panic attack all day. They’re doing performance reviews this month and he’s just walking around the office all morning staring at people’s work stations, doing spot checks. Who was in, who wasn’t in. He’s going to lay off half my team, I know it. You should have seen him, he was stalking around like some kind of primal hunter. And then he’s coming up to me and asking if I believe there’s a God – what are you supposed to say to that!? Like what, you’re going to fire me because I don’t… shit, could he do that? I don’t even know what religion he is, so I can’t lie. Fuck’s sake I can’t even work out what ethnicity he is!! Sorry Mum. I shouldn’t swear, I know. I’m just really worked up.

There there. I don’t like this man very much.

He doesn’t blink. Not very often anyway.

I don’t like anyone who’s mean to my little Rojie.

And he’s calling me all day, I mean what are you supposed to do? And oh God I haven’t told you -- he gets Janet to come in, all like “you have to go see Korea right now”, like “RIGHT NOW” and I go there and his office is empty. It’s just me and… he has all these little statues, like Easter Island things. And then I hear this thump, it’s like a horror movie or something, and really slowly he comes up from underneath his desk and stares at me. HE WAS HIDING THERE. Under his desk. And we have this… I don’t know what you’d call it, “conversation” isn’t really the word. He’s going on about Star Trek and man’s mission to the universe or some shit – sorry – and I’m standing there thinking “what have I done”, you know? “What have I done, why is this happening to me?” Just like “I’m going to get fired now” or “maybe he’s going to bite me to death”, and I don’t know why it’s happening, and all I can pay attention to is that my hands are in my pockets and they’re full of this white powder shit, and he’s not blinking, he doesn’t even blink once, I couldn’t take it, I thought I was going to puke, I actually had to go to the toilet and stand there for like three minutes because I thought I was going to puke…

My brave little boy.

…and y-yuh… yuh…

(gulping for breath)

You just let it out.


That’s right. Let all that tension out. Deep breaths. You’re so brave.

(a long pause)

Huh. Hnnh. -- You shouldn’t smoke Mum.


(a long pause)

But he didn’t fire you.


And they’re not going to. You’re too special for them to fire you.


My brave little man. You had a bad nasty horrible Wednesday but you made it didn’t you?


And you have your pretty girlfriend coming over and she’s going to watch True Blood with you. You like that show, don’t you?


That’s right. It’s your favourite show, and you’re going to have ice cream and everything’s going to be all right.

Yeah. -- Thanks Mum.

Tsk. I love my little man.

(she kisses him on the cheek, then smiles and walks out of the room)

(a moment passes. he has regained his composure)

…fucking Star Trek… I mean, what the fuck...?

(he picks the DVD box up off the kitchen counter. turns it over. reads the back)


(she returns, dressed as previously)

Hey hon!


(she sniffs)

Phee-eww! Did she smoke in here?

Yeah. I told her not to.

Ah well.

Friday, July 16, 2010

Korea vs Mighty Resonance (5)

(to first ep)
(to previous ep)


It gets worse.
The restless feeling.
Like I’m waiting for something.

I know this feeling.
Get it sometimes.
Never a good sign.
(Never good to ignore it)
Just have to prepare myself.
What for?
Who knows.
Ride the lift.
Out through the car park.
- Nod to someone -
Reach into my jacket.
Check the pistol.
Reposition it for easier access.
Walk loose.
Regulate my breathing.
Relax, relax.
Tension in the arms and shoulders.
Think of something peaceful:
Air conditioning.
Dead leaves on a cement walk.
Old photographs.
Easter Island.
Relax, relax.

Feels like they’re everywhere today.
Same old guy, out on the Quay.
Blah blah, end of the world.
Ask for forgiveness.
You, and you, and you.
Then further on, at the lights:
Car with a bumper sticker.
One of those fish symbols.
Makes me uncomfortable.
Fish and doves and rainbows.
Too many symbols.
How many do you need?
For the one religion, I mean.
Like a conspiracy.
“Honk if you love Jesus”.
At least the old guy’s being straight.
Ranting, etc.
These people with their bumper stickers.
Religious extremists.
But they’re keeping quiet about it.
Driving around.
Signalling to each other.
I don’t like it.
Never mind.
Dead leaves.
Easter Island.

The place is on Dixon Street.
An office building.
Right there, listed in the lobby.
5th floor.
Church of Resonant Consciousness.
Weird place for a church.
Check my watch.
Quarter past five.
With any luck they’ll be closed.
Lift doors open.
Office people piling out.
Step inside.
Press 5.

Ahhhhhhh... that's better.

Tuesday, July 6, 2010

Welcome Back

(from early this year, recovering from pneumonia)

It's happened again – glittering dark insomnia hanging in the bedroom air.
Nn thom nee yah
Nth omni ahh.
It's a tantalising energy. It makes my thoughts and senses feel desperately precious at night and then it deadens the hours of the following day.
It's like leading a secret life. I sit at my desk, dishevelled and strange, and perform bland actions to fulfil my work obligations. An automaton with rumpled clothes and a bad haircut.
In the late afternoon I step out into the warm orange sunlight with vague plans for the evening.
I exercise. It's what I'm good at. I do an elliptical trainer for twenty minutes, then run on a treadmill for half an hour. I lever the muscles of my upper body against various weights, then go home and cook red meat and eat it.
There are people in the flat. Flatmates and visitors. Loud and silly friends. A villain who leans against the doorframes and watches us, hating us. There are girls – the White Queen and the Black Queen – both so pretty it's maddening. They stand apart from each other like pillars in a tarot card. Like some kind of doorway.

A warm pulse has started up. A great hungry volition. Volition for god knows what, I don't know, I can't make head or tail of it. It's there, waiting for me to do something. I have no idea how to appease it.
Every film I watch is a searing lesson in life as it should be lived. People walk through tall grass, touch, kiss, and the hairs on my arms prickle up at the sight of it. People crash into each other, bite and punch each other. They sweat and shout and make loud promises. They get injured, and they heal. It's wonderful. I feel like I'm waiting for the right moment, when the moment comes I'll lunge up into the screen and join the commotion.
The streets are teeming with women. I watch them go by, their motion, the colours of their clothes. The pitch and articulation of their voices as they talk into their iPhones. I look up and see the men also watching. Their faces are calm and proud and despondent and contorted with anger, slack from drink, clean shaven and bristly, red and sunburnt, feral, lips curled in disdain, mouths hanging open with laughter.
The volition is watching and waiting. Something immense is going to happen. Art and life will switch places and we'll all be cast into some big, dangerous story.

Drinking. Winding down. Checking the clock. I've been so tired these days, I should really get an early night. I've joined a DVD rental club, I have a couple of films I could watch in bed.
Our resident villain stares as I walk to my room.
“All right?” he asks.
“Yeah, fine.”
Why the question? What does he want? He probably doesn't know. Probably he's stuck hanging like the rest of us. Hanging off his door frame.
For the tenth night in a row I cue the film (Tenebre), but once again it's a trap. Too tired and wired to do anything but lay back in bed and check out the shimmering darkness and the quiet roar of my tinnitus.
To wait as the black air starts unfolding into hundreds of ideas and suggestions. Insomnia. Bolts from the void.
I love this place, this thing, and the thoughts it gives me. I love it so much that I've often imagined it as a person. A woman with black, black skin and round white eyes. Long fingers. Teeth. A white summer dress dirty with sweat and dust. She's out in the warm-and-cool night, standing by an unlit road, and the busted-up sign beside her says:


Friday, July 2, 2010

Retiring the Old Banner

This banner has propped up the bottom of my blog page for almost a year now. Trusty old banner.

Putting it here for posterity.
Still think it's cool - all with the Strindberg and the pretty ladies getting sprayed with blood. (sniff) You had a good run, boy.
A year is a good run, for a blog banner.

Mr Benjamin Korea's short sentences, existential ponderings and ambiguous mental condition will resume shortly.

Thursday, July 1, 2010

Korea vs Mighty Resonance (4)

(to first ep)
(to previous ep)


Not getting much done today.
Just sitting here, staring.
Rain on the window.

It bothers me.
Can’t say why.
Associations with:
Youth group.
Star Trek.
No crime, no money system.
Everyone living peacefully.
Clean futuristic corridors, gardens.
Geodesic domes.
Red jumpsuits.
Fit and healthy.
Sunshine. Acoustic guitars.
Cartoon pictures of doves.
People saying: peace be with you.
Peace be with you, brother.
Brotherhood of man.
No crazy people.
No drunks, drug addicts.
Everyone helping out.
No-one asking for money.
It bothers me.
Can’t say why.

Problems with the ioniser today.
Keeps switching itself off.

Call Roger.
No answer.
Call Roger’s PA.
Turns out Roger’s in his office.
Just not answering.
Tell the PA: send him over.
& the ioniser shuts off.
This damn thing.
Climb under the desk to check the plug.
The cable, etc.
Seems fine.
Climb back up. Roger’s here.
Seems startled.
Frightened, even.
Asks: what’s going on.
Sit down, I tell him.
The guy is so nervous.
Got to loosen him up.
How about this weather, I say.
Point outside.
Raining, I mean.
Says: yeah.
Yeah, I say.

Enough small talk.
Ask him: what do you think about harmony.
Doesn’t answer.
I repeat the question.
He coughs. Mumbles something.
Looks at the floor.
Starts talking about strategic alignment.
Listening to stakeholders.
Good for PR.
Good for the business.
Listening to staff.
Good for productivity.
Reduced turnover.
Blah blah blah.
Tell him: stop.
I’m not talking office business.
I’m talking life business.
The human race, it’s purpose.
Religious harmony.
Spiritual harmony.
Star Trek, etc.
What does he think.
No answer.
Just shrugs.
Say to him: asking you as a spiritual person. Do you feel that a state of peace & harmony is something we should be aiming for or do you feel that conflict/competition – even desperation – is necessary to keep us human. & if the latter then what is in your opinion the true & ultimate goal of the human race.
Then: why are you asking me this.
Interesting, I say.
Maybe I’m asking you.
Maybe the question is asking us.
Then: Mr Korea I have a client coming in.
Waiting at Reception.
Have to go now.

Pointless anyway.

Hate days like this.

It bothers me

Can't say why