Friday, May 28, 2010

PSYCHOPOMP - CHAPTER FOURTEEN (Twitter Novel / Keitai Shousetsu)

to start at Chapter One, click here

Some More Shit from Chem’s Notebook

AWWW shit its my older loner blonde friend again – HE-EY

what up playboy what up player

yr playfriend aint here tho – wonderin bout his dilly-o?

lookin back at me – wonder if he thinks im checkin him out

YIKES-A-RAMA whoa daddy rocker just a-tryin-a be friendly

RIGHT? right chem – uhhhhhhhhh yeah

hummmmm dud duh dummmmmm

WAIT – when did they get here?

since when does the Lonesome Cowboy have friends?

she looks hot but stupid – typical – he looks a little dangermouse, catboy

just a catgirl’s type – WAIT - WAIT

WHAT THE FUCK IS UP WITH HIS EYES – holy shit that’s gross

wtf would cause that?

they’re leaving already?

and now where u goin Lonesome Cowboy?

um chem re-transmit yr breaking up yr breaking up

abort mission abort mission


Continue to Chapter Fifteen by clicking here

Friday, May 21, 2010

PSYCHOPOMP - CHAPTER THIRTEEN (Twitter Novel / Keitai Shousetsu)

For Chapter One, click here

There is a lot to be said for the healing powers of delicious food and Asian beers. Even the anticipation of such early on Friday is enough to help wipe away much of the difficulties KG experienced earlier in the week. Although KG has the exact same meal every week, he always becomes excited on the cab ride to Phuket, and despite the expected pain his mouth waters thinking of the deceptively colorless Pad Kee Mow. So visually plain; so powerfully spicy.

Unfortunately, Boi is not in the restaurant this evening, and although KG is treated very well, he is not treated exceedingly well and finds this unavoidably disappointing. Of course the other part of him, the part that consciously pronounces the “i” in Boi, finds this unacceptably elitist and the guilt prickles until he receives the steaming bowl of Tom Kha Gai and the glistening Singha from the friendly waiter, unfortunately poured from bottle to glass without Boi’s detailed knowledge of KG’s preferences. As KG takes his first sip he sees the same blue-haired young lady from last Friday, sitting alone on the other side of the room, scribbling in her notebook. She looks up at him through her thick glasses and KG immediately directs his attention downward to the chicken and coconut soup. He only just takes his first mouthful, piquant and delicious, when he hears someone across from him clear their throat.

KG looks up from his soup to see two figures seated at the other side of the table. He slowly lowers his spoon to gently rest beside the porcelain soup bowl. The girl, a blonde, appears to be mentally retarded, or at the very least brain damaged. However, unlike most mentally retarded individuals KG has observed, this girl is very beautiful, and her hygiene is impeccable: waves of long hair shine in the restaurant light, her makeup is restrained but effective and her teeth are perfect. The overall effect is ruined by the small string of drool that collects at the corner of her mouth as she laughs her idiot laugh. Her eyes are glassy and deadened as she stares across the table at KG.

The dark-haired man seated next to her, on the other hand, radiates intelligence shot through with malice. His hair is slicked back from his high, proud forehead in a widow’s peak, and his arched eyebrows accentuate the eyes. A thick, flaky crust obscures those eyes, however, and its grayish color reflects the light in silvery glints. Although the face around the eyes is very animated, the crusts never crack, and the man never blinks. He just sits across from KG, next to the blonde moron, grinning a sickening, toothy grin. Neither speaks; they only regard KG silently for several minutes until he finally speaks.

“Um, is there something I can help you with?”

The dark-haired man giggles, mocks him: “Uh, uh, is there something I can help you with?” The idiot girl laughs her idiot laugh. They sit and continue to watch him.

“Why did you sit down here with me?"

The dark-haired man shrugs. “Didn’t. We were already here.” The blonde looks confused, nods, her jaw slack.

KG’s irritation begins to supplant his feelings of unease. “Sooo, I sat down here, at your table. Where you were the whole time. That’s what happened.”

The dark-haired man shrugs again. “You should come with us. We have some things to show you. Some things you’ll want to see.” The blonde imbecile nods emphatically, grunts, spittle flecking her chin.

“Wow. Wow, I don’t think so.”

The dark-haired man grins again, and KG’s stomach tightens up with apprehension. “You’ll end up going, one way or the other. It can be now, or there’s a bus that’ll take you later.”

“A bus?”

The man’s grin grows even broader. “Yeah, a bus. You don’t want to meet the bus driver.” The idiot girl laughs gutturally. The dark-haired man turns to her, grinning, looks back at KG. “Yeah. The bus driver. He’s, like…binary, man.”


“Yeah, you know: if we’re all Ones, then he’s a…”

The idiot girl shouts it: “Zero!” She laughs and laughs, clapping her hands awkwardly together. The man laughs as well, continues staring at KG through the flaky gray crusts.

“Mm-hm. That’s right.” The dark-haired man jerks his thumb over at the blonde. “He touched her once, and part of her came off in his hand.” The blonde continues her nodding and giggling. The dark-haired man gets up, motions the blonde out of the booth. She pushes herself up and nearly tumbles out, steadying herself on the table. “My name is Charles. My sister’s name…is Suzie. We’ll see you again. You won’t forget us anytime soon.”

KG chuckles mirthlessly. “No, no I won’t.”

The pair moves towards the door of the restaurant, the girl leaning into her brother for support. KG watches them walk out into the parking lot to a long, boxy black car of indeterminate make and vintage. A man gets out of the driver’s seat, at least it looks like a man, all dressed in black. It is hard to see across the dimly lit parking lot but he opens the rear driver’s side door to let Suzie into the car. He assists her as Charles gets in on the passenger side. The man in black appears to turn back to the restaurant, and it is then that the music coming through the speakers begins to warp, sounding as if a child were playing with an AM dial, voices and snatches of music coming in and out through the strange echoes of the sine waves. The man in black turns, gets back into the driver’s seat, and pulls out into the night without his lights on. The restaurant’s radio returns to its regular program of frothy J-pop. KG turns back to his soup bowl and exhales, palms down before him on the tabletop. He gets up suddenly, almost runs over to the waiter tabulating bills at the register by the door. The waiter looks up, smiles as KG approaches.

“Can I help you, sir?”

“Yeah, did you see those two people just leave? What was wrong with that guy’s eyes?”

The waiter looks confused. “Eyes…?”

It takes KG about ten seconds to realize that the waiter’s English extends to menu items and “Can I help you, sir?” KG smiles uncomfortably, waves him off and returns to his table. His soup is cold. His dinner is ruined. The young girl with the blue hair and the thick glasses and the acne stares at him. KG throws down a twenty, not feeling able to wait for the bill this evening, and stalks out.

Friday, May 14, 2010

PSYCHOPOMP - CHAPTER TWELVE (Twitter Novel / Keitai Shousetsu)

For Chapter One, click here

Another seven days, a week. So, what does KG do this week? All the things he always does. When he goes online to the mental health forums, he sees many more entries on Comaxyn than prior. As KG has had a relatively easy time on the drug he is surprised by the large amount of problem cases and posts about the side effects. The only side effect that KG has noticed so far is vivid dreams, and the other issues that come with especially vivid dreams: momentarily mistaking them for memories, difficult transitions between waking and sleep, a minor issue with depersonalization and perceived unreality. In fact, KG is still looking at this as a positive aspect of Comaxyn as he plans to use some of the more memorable dream-stuff in his recording work.

Aside from the usual side effect complaints posted (headache, dizziness, sexual dysfunction), there are a great many more dealing with the vivid dream aspect but in a far more extensive way than KG expected or has heard of before. There are mentions of rock-solid belief in false memories created by the dreams for days afterward; mentions of disruptions in work schedules due to mistakenly assuming multiple days had passed and that the weekend had arrived two days too soon; and, most sinister, mentions of a condition referred to as PDS or Permeable Dreamstate Syndrome. Although the details of this supposed syndrome are sketchy at best, a condition actually using the term ‘syndrome’ usually indicates a lawsuit in the offing, and these rumors this early in Comaxyn’s release process are definitely not a good sign. However, as far as KG is concerned Comaxyn has been a fine substitute for the Paxil and he is actually a little worried that the pharmaceutical company might pull it for further study.

So KG goes to work with the material he has amassed in his journals from the more vivid dreams. With “Desert Music III” in mind as he sits down to collage and compose, he attempts to translate the atmospheres to musical terms and finds that although the dream-stuff is extremely atmospheric and readily translatable to musical soundscapes, none of the pieces he begins have any of the sense of space that characterized the “Desert Music” projects. In fact, although he wouldn’t characterize the dreams he accesses as nightmares, the overall feeling is particularly sinister and the atmospheres have an industrial quality that KG has never felt in his music before. Although it is interesting, and under other circumstances might have been artistically exciting, KG feels a need to produce what Abstrakt wants and needs, so he is a little disappointed.

A little disappointment turns to self-loathing, which cycles back and forth depending upon the day. He is forced to return to his list of Top 3 Most Devastating Things Ever Said to KG, in particular when Lainey left and he told her he loved her, and Lainey said, “You don’t fucking love me. You love your...condition.” And then she closed the door. And she was right. And he spent the rest of the night weeping, and loving the loneliness, and loving the pain. And she was right. Afterwards KG seriously considers moving her up in the rankings, but reconsiders when after only touching on the content of the Top 2 he runs full bore away from any further examination of those memories.

So this week he reads. And he makes lunch. And he watches some movies. And he drinks a couple of beers. And he smokes a few cigarettes. And he masturbates to internet porn. And he plays some music, and he records some. And he walks. And he weeps. And he sleeps. And he watches TV. And he goes online. And he reads. And he makes dinner. And. And. And. And.

To go to Chapter Thirteen, click here