Side-Effect City

April 24th, 2005 | brainjuice

My bones hurt.

Peeling the skin back from my eyes triggered my wire. The lower left edge of my vision sparkled/scrolled up my crew’s names and locations. The bad chime sounded in my inner ear. Jessica’s name went black in the menu. She’d died in the night.

I switched my wire status to Busy/refocussed on the ceiling. It was pointless calling Jessica’s girlfriend. She was an addict who’d rejected meme surgery/ had an algae factory implanted in her brain to dripfeed her opiate replacements. Jessica’s girlfriend moved on plant time. She wouldn’t notice Jessica was dead for a day or two.

I wondered if they were in bed together.

K was awake. I could see it on the wire. She was laying on her belly on the floor, among the clothes and straps and toys, her eyes closed as if communing. Her lids, sooty with last night’s makeup, opened slowly/laid orange eyes on me.

Just another day in Side-Effect City, she murmured.

(Fragment, 2004)


Visually, New Pope = New Donald Rumsfeld

April 24th, 2005 | brainjuice

“Ha ha, fuckers!”


I’m Sorry

April 24th, 2005 | brainjuice

I’m sorry I came in your shoes.

I’m sorry I hung your teddy bear from the light fitting and then pointed the anglepoise lamp at it so the first thing you saw when you came home was little Bear Paws swinging from his noose in silhouette on the wall.

I’m sorry about that thing with your chinchilla and the bellows. But I have to point out that it was me who wiped everything off the wallpaper, and your sister did get the fur out of her teeth.

I’m sorry I pissed in the steam iron.

I’m sorry about putting that half a horse from the road accident in the back of your car. But in my defense I thought you might, I dunno, find it useful for something.

I’m sorry I left that half a horse in the back of your car for two weeks.

I’m sorry about your mother almost choking to death on the condom, though I still don’t think it was my fault.

I’m sorry about your mother almost choking to death on the used condom a month later. That might have been my fault, yeah.

I’m sorry I pissed in the washing machine.

I’m sorry about that whole thing with the harpoon gun, the fishing line and the, you know, the string of dogs.

I’m sorry I made you help me stand the dogs in line.

I’m sorry I threw up in the carrot bread mix and didn’t tell anyone.

I’m sorry about exploding those frogs with your drinking straws and then putting them back in the drawer without telling you. Or rinsing them.

I’m sorry I pissed in your sister. On your sister. On. Really. On your sister.

I’m sorry about all these things, and anything else you can think of, and I really really love you and I want you to take me back.

And, um. I’m sorry the back of your house is on fire.

(written 2004)


FELL Comes In Autumn

April 24th, 2005 | Work

Have a panel from my new project with Ben Templesmith, FELL. Sssssh.