Installment J - a continuation of "My Valuable Wall" and other short pieces of inorganic, partially corrupted, angular, frothy tongued ointments
My ultimate excitement back in those missionary days stemmed from the futuristic idea of mind trickery. Mind tricks being only an apparition in one's own mind, much like science, as was taught to me at the institute. Only now, the two seemed to be combined in harmony, just as I had predicted many years ago... I admit now. Yeah... I always knew that, I just never said anything. Now that mind tricks were available, my brother got himself a good suit, to look like that agent. It all made sense now, at least as much as the windmill jigsaw puzzle that I've been working on for four months but have yet to complete, as one of the oldest power manifestations of the mind is simply dressing nice to fool your victim. Ha.. I wouldn't...
“So, have you heard about the new municipal progress system?” My brother asked, as he shook my forearm and held a handful of large feathers. “Where did you get those feathers?” I asked, as I came out of my mindspell. “Outside by nest.” I nodded again and wondered why my brother talked like that. I guess he doesn’t like wasting time on unnecessary articles. “Oh, the program, yeah, I just got the information” “Good, “ he said “I've already been involved. I just got a gig at Universal Grinding.” “What are you doing with those feathers?” I inquired. “Oh, just giving them to Charles. Charles is my son.” He picked up the box and limped mysteriously into the darkness of the garage, only a shimmering symbol of some sort on his left palm. I supposed it was a stamp to get back into the concert, but I couldn't be sure. “Hey, what are you doing in there?” I asked, thinking that nothing substantial was in that garage except two old lawnmowers and some old rolls of upholstery. He didn’t answer and I now saw him reappear with a gas can. “My cycle’s running low.” I didn’t really care by this time and was slithering towards the couch cushion bed I had just built. There was no gas in that can anyway, and there was no sense in letting him know that. After a short rest, I could start to narrate a little more clearly; not so much, “Then I went here, then I went there, then I met him, then I talked to her.” There’s no sense in any of that, no more sense than the pages of technical manuals that sat in front of me. I figured on studying them since they sat there looking so alone. I would need the knowledge if I was to reach my pinnacle.
I now used my hand held tape recorder to document the situation: “I seem to be resting now, after which I plan to take part in the program. My brother just stopped by and it looks like the program is indeed successful in its mission. Ummm... also I’d love to have a little puppy or a kitty to pet right now, just something to care for. Boy, I’m malnourished too and could use a new shirt.” Then I realized that this device was not used to make wishes to higher powers. Slowly but surely, I drifted off into a deep, lifeless sleep.
A puppy greeted me in my dreams, just like I had wished for. Compassion was on my melted mind. It ran up to me with a wide drooling smile and I opened my arms up and bent over to except its greeting. He ran up the fine Persian rug and right between the shimmering golden griffin monuments that guarded the main hall of my dream mansion. His name was Harpee in my dream. I petted him good, right up until the atmosphere turned a deep purple color, and a chill ran through my spine. Harpee became a cat made of neon lights, with one swollen, diseased bloody tooth. Then a voodoo lady came in and said, “From the bottom of my heart I salute you.” That part of the dream is non-extraordinary. It’s just my own recurring nightmare; the same one from that one episode of MacGyver- I only explain it here because I had previously complained about my Mac dosages. Well, I take that complaint back. Anyway, I dropped the cat and it levitated for a brief moment. I was paralyzed and I feared the cat. It was soon whisked away by a fiery, death smelling wind. The wind brought with it a specific low-frequency tone, accompanied by a heavy metal cloud forcing me to the floor. I mean heavy metal here, not soaring riffs and lightning drum beats. It was oppressive. I had a feeling of skin removal, then I saw a complicated machine, without actually seeing it- I had a feeling of inferiority I mean, like I usually do around robots and the like. Here there was no robot. One by one, myself and a long line of others lined up to get serviced at the machine. Then I felt an unbelievably sharp stab in the arm… and was awake, with my arm against the radiator again. My floor was sloped such that, when sleeping, I tend to roll right into the wall. The heat shouldn’t have been on anyway, but what can I do about it now? Wow, burning. I awoke, and realized that I had been put down for several hours. I released the tension in my elbows and cracked a few hazelnuts for breakfast. They were roasted and just sweet enough. I licked a popsicle next for a moment, and then used a sponge to wipe my hair down.
“So, have you heard about the new municipal progress system?” My brother asked, as he shook my forearm and held a handful of large feathers. “Where did you get those feathers?” I asked, as I came out of my mindspell. “Outside by nest.” I nodded again and wondered why my brother talked like that. I guess he doesn’t like wasting time on unnecessary articles. “Oh, the program, yeah, I just got the information” “Good, “ he said “I've already been involved. I just got a gig at Universal Grinding.” “What are you doing with those feathers?” I inquired. “Oh, just giving them to Charles. Charles is my son.” He picked up the box and limped mysteriously into the darkness of the garage, only a shimmering symbol of some sort on his left palm. I supposed it was a stamp to get back into the concert, but I couldn't be sure. “Hey, what are you doing in there?” I asked, thinking that nothing substantial was in that garage except two old lawnmowers and some old rolls of upholstery. He didn’t answer and I now saw him reappear with a gas can. “My cycle’s running low.” I didn’t really care by this time and was slithering towards the couch cushion bed I had just built. There was no gas in that can anyway, and there was no sense in letting him know that. After a short rest, I could start to narrate a little more clearly; not so much, “Then I went here, then I went there, then I met him, then I talked to her.” There’s no sense in any of that, no more sense than the pages of technical manuals that sat in front of me. I figured on studying them since they sat there looking so alone. I would need the knowledge if I was to reach my pinnacle.
I now used my hand held tape recorder to document the situation: “I seem to be resting now, after which I plan to take part in the program. My brother just stopped by and it looks like the program is indeed successful in its mission. Ummm... also I’d love to have a little puppy or a kitty to pet right now, just something to care for. Boy, I’m malnourished too and could use a new shirt.” Then I realized that this device was not used to make wishes to higher powers. Slowly but surely, I drifted off into a deep, lifeless sleep.
A puppy greeted me in my dreams, just like I had wished for. Compassion was on my melted mind. It ran up to me with a wide drooling smile and I opened my arms up and bent over to except its greeting. He ran up the fine Persian rug and right between the shimmering golden griffin monuments that guarded the main hall of my dream mansion. His name was Harpee in my dream. I petted him good, right up until the atmosphere turned a deep purple color, and a chill ran through my spine. Harpee became a cat made of neon lights, with one swollen, diseased bloody tooth. Then a voodoo lady came in and said, “From the bottom of my heart I salute you.” That part of the dream is non-extraordinary. It’s just my own recurring nightmare; the same one from that one episode of MacGyver- I only explain it here because I had previously complained about my Mac dosages. Well, I take that complaint back. Anyway, I dropped the cat and it levitated for a brief moment. I was paralyzed and I feared the cat. It was soon whisked away by a fiery, death smelling wind. The wind brought with it a specific low-frequency tone, accompanied by a heavy metal cloud forcing me to the floor. I mean heavy metal here, not soaring riffs and lightning drum beats. It was oppressive. I had a feeling of skin removal, then I saw a complicated machine, without actually seeing it- I had a feeling of inferiority I mean, like I usually do around robots and the like. Here there was no robot. One by one, myself and a long line of others lined up to get serviced at the machine. Then I felt an unbelievably sharp stab in the arm… and was awake, with my arm against the radiator again. My floor was sloped such that, when sleeping, I tend to roll right into the wall. The heat shouldn’t have been on anyway, but what can I do about it now? Wow, burning. I awoke, and realized that I had been put down for several hours. I released the tension in my elbows and cracked a few hazelnuts for breakfast. They were roasted and just sweet enough. I licked a popsicle next for a moment, and then used a sponge to wipe my hair down.
posted by fiestawizard at 10:48 PM
2 Comments:
i dreamt i replied to this, which i read the day after you posted it, and i thought the dream was real i guess, because i came here expecting to see that reply but it was not (hence i remembered). the spookiness continues as the metaphors, and methapors, continue to pore in thickly like a concentrated melon-sap.
that was a simile of course, right there, not a metaphor.
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