The babies are in the air ducts again.
I hardly bother to ring the landlord any more, he gets sick and tired of the bother, and it’s only me that complains. On the edge of the differential zone, the babies are the least of it.
Although, at least the other things around here don’t talk to me. Last night, soaking in the bath, one of the babies started to talk to me; a high pitched lisping parody of a child, it said filthy things through the fan vent, distorted by the air conditioning. In the end I vomited into the sink before sleeping on the sofa, with the TV running a white noise signal from a generator I bought a week ago. I find it easier to sleep with it running, drowning out all the sounds from outside, and sometimes drowning out the sounds from inside too.
Continue reading Duct Babies.
AJ: another stream of consciousness. I’m beginning to see a pattern here.
So, the story’s like this right?
We’re in Stockholm, in a rusty transit, must be twenty years old. I hate the fucking thing coz I have to drive it. Not an insurance thing right? I’m on a false passport anyway, but I’m the only mug who’s had any experience driving on the right, Kurt’s never had a licence in his life. We’re parked under a tree on Svarvagatan, it’s pissing it down, and we only have five fags to last us until the shops open in the morning. We can’t even take a spin to the nearest gas station in case we miss our connect.
I remember the rain bouncing off the tin roof, and the biggest hole through the rust dripped straight down into a hole in the rust of the floor, we didn’t even need to put anything down to catch it.
Continue reading Digiphage V – Drinkies
The vicious crosswind howls across the air intakes just beyond the windscreen of the rented transit van, threatening occasionally to pick it up and fling it into the heather lined ditch, the only thing separating this lonely road from mile after mile of Scottish moor. A shiver goes down my spine as wierd, otherworldy harmonics vibrate through the airconditioning and crawl into the cab, voices on the edge of chaotic sound; an almost-ordered brown noise that reminds me of the neverending semi-musical environment of a Vegas casino gaming floor, almost, but never quite establishing itself as real melody.
Continue reading Digiphage IV – Phage at the end of the World
AJ: Unsurprisingly, I wrote this when I was staying in a hotel. This one I’m particularly pleased with.
It’s a quiet night.
I can see the flicker of distant lightning from the chinese tropics, roiling black clouds in the dusk, giving the sky the colour of dark static. There is only the steady quiet continuous breath in the background of the aircon to disturb the zen of the moment as I look out on the neon chipped skyline of casinos looming above the slums.
Macau. A calm moment before a storm, when the grass and leaves rustle in the unknowing breeze of armies pretending that the other doesn’t even exist.
But then, there’s not going to be a battle, more a small fracas.
Continue reading Digiphage III – Happy Cat
AJ: Again, I can’t remember when or where. Typical example of what I see the character doing though. I imagine them between work/jobs, just seeing what can be done when you’re out and about. It matches up to things like the Piratebox on my other blog though, what could go on in the digital world of today, where everyone is wired in and obsessed with their devices.
Continue reading Digiphage II – Coffee Button
AJ: I can’t remember when or where I wrote this. It conforms to most of how my writing turns out when I start, flows of consciousness are my forte. This is a bit old, and I don’t think it’s dated very well, but recently I was in a coffee shop in London where almost every table had a Mac on it. See my other blog for decentralisation, but just in general, the amount of plugged in time we spend these days worries me……
Continue reading Digiphage I – Airport