I take the
call.
Blackness. Sweet, sweet blackness. That's how I see it, anyway. Some people see white. Some people see nothing. Blackness is nothing, to me, so I guess we are all seeing the same thing. You look down and you can't see your feet, like some shooter from the 90's. It's turtles all the way down, except there aren't any turtles. I don't know how else to tell you, man, but it's so fucking sweet. Absence of input, a mayhem of noise, silence, sweet silence. Nothing envelops my being, taking me with it into the abyss-- there was no “me”, there was, just, nothing. How to describe it? Lasting an eternity and yet taking no time at all. I fall.
All too soon my eyes opened and my brain revs up and I start to take stock of where I am. I'd fallen over in the high, it seems, I'm sprawled on the floor of some dark grey closet. Spit stains the side of my mouth and my wrist hurts something awful. The device, shaped like an old telephone, hangs limply from its spindly cable on the wall. Through the high pitched ringing in my ears I could hear someone knocking...
“...time's up ya bum... more than an hour... got customers waiting...”
An hour? A forever. I close my eyes and pinch my temples, trying and failing to grab one last bite of eternity. The ringing in my ears reaches a buzzing crescendo before fading back into that strange familiarity, and one of the voices that I had been escaping whispered in my ear, ...can be yours for only...because you deserve it...
More knocking on the door. “Come on you sprite, you cunt-ass fuckwit. Next in line is here, you want more, you come back when you have the exchange.” I groan in response, and haul myself up to my feet. I slam the pulsating orange button with the flat of my fist, and almost fall through the door as it slid open. Almost immediately a short fat balding face owned by the supplier springs into view.
“Ah, there you are, fairy-ass motherfucker. Who do you think you are?” says Phil rhetorically.
“I've been coming to you for three months now, Titties,” I croak, “You could call me by my dang name, it wouldn't hurt you.”
“Phil! It's Phil! You scumbag junkie you...”
I don't catch the rest of what he says as a voice whispering Bill's Blades, a cut above the rest drowned him out. I trundle home.
Across the dark metropolis...
The city. “A neon fuckfest” is what my old man would say. He was born back in the early 2000's, in a sweet spot where technology and advertisement weren't yet completely synonymous. These days, well-- humanity landed on Mars, and we stamped a fucking logo on it.
“Just where have you been?!” my girlfriend shrieks at me by way of greeting, wrapped in a stained white tank top and throwing a dirty plate at my head, which I duck at the last second. “Out on the event horizon again?! Every goddamn week you're out there, and I'm ecstatic about the way your hair smells, only five more days and we're going to be evicted you dumb shit! Don't you dare roll your eyes at me for your clothes say more about you than words ever could. The new line from my mother, she tells me nobody picks up when she pings! Because we don't have any fucking 'net left you fuck! You fuck, you fucking, god you make me so excited. Enthralled. Enchanted. How will the new Ethernet eZoning leave you, I should have, I should have so long ago... Oh man, what happened to my life...” she breaks down in sob, holding her face in her hands. I take this as a sign to leave and slink into the bedroom, closing the door behind me. I'm pretty sure I hear another plate smash against the door but it's drowned out by a McDonald's spot. I flop onto my bed, scattering half eaten donuts and dirty paintbrushes onto the floor. I regard a painting I was composing before I'd left-- a hideous, twisted man, mouth ajar, limbs slowly contorting into a giant yellow “M”. That's probably what triggered me running off to the Booth, I figure. I turn up my stereo as loud as it will go, all but flattening my skull against the giant UpBeat speakers which were half price at Targét when I got them and it almost A new lease on life. A new love. A new, you!I am scrabbling, through my desk. I am banging the keyboard, on the desk, watching food crumbs and hair and weed and ash fall out, and I get my index finger and I scrape and I get as much green as I can, and I pick the hairs off it and I scrape and I scrape and I look in my cone piece and I have such a meagre amount, I have some wood, some chocolate, obvious lint, ash, a breath of weed, a literal dust mote, an iota of weed, I light it up, I inhale, there is smoke, but I know it's nothing, I smoke, I don't get my buzz, I just get more desperate, my heart is racing, I'm trying not to think about her, so instead I begin this search again, on the floor, in the cracks in the bong, in the, fucking, ashtray, I'm looking in the ashtray, there is literal ash, on my fingers, my fingers are black from ash, just trying to alight anything, inhale anything, consume anything, get my buzz, get my buzz, get my buzz...
When I emerge from my room my girlfriend has calmed down. She has a new skull-shaped headset wrapped around her head, obscuring half her vision. Every time we speak it's a battle-- she always has to decide whether to pay attention to me or to one of her shrill friends or topless six pack cunts she has on the other side, their heads also buried in a mess of metal and wires. She doesn't even look at me when I walk in, just keeps smoking her cigarette and mouthing silently to whoever she has online. I sit down beside her and put my head on her shoulder, tired. I depress into our brown torn couch, settling. I notice her nipples bleeding through her top and grope her breasts. She smells like she hasn't showered in a while. I sink to my knees and hoist her legs apart, biting and kissing her flabby thighs, working my head towards her cunt which I breath warm air on. I lick my lips, and hers, around and around before engulfing her clit in my mouth. As I lap up her juices I fumble with my jeans, take myself out and slowly jerk myself off. I couldn't say if she notices me, and I get up without cleaning my cumstain and walk back into my room.
Blackness. Sweet, sweet blackness. That's how I see it, anyway. Some people see white. Some people see nothing. Blackness is nothing, to me, so I guess we are all seeing the same thing. You look down and you can't see your feet, like some shooter from the 90's. It's turtles all the way down, except there aren't any turtles. I don't know how else to tell you, man, but it's so fucking sweet. Absence of input, a mayhem of noise, silence, sweet silence. Nothing envelops my being, taking me with it into the abyss-- there was no “me”, there was, just, nothing. How to describe it? Lasting an eternity and yet taking no time at all. I fall.
All too soon my eyes opened and my brain revs up and I start to take stock of where I am. I'd fallen over in the high, it seems, I'm sprawled on the floor of some dark grey closet. Spit stains the side of my mouth and my wrist hurts something awful. The device, shaped like an old telephone, hangs limply from its spindly cable on the wall. Through the high pitched ringing in my ears I could hear someone knocking...
“...time's up ya bum... more than an hour... got customers waiting...”
An hour? A forever. I close my eyes and pinch my temples, trying and failing to grab one last bite of eternity. The ringing in my ears reaches a buzzing crescendo before fading back into that strange familiarity, and one of the voices that I had been escaping whispered in my ear, ...can be yours for only...because you deserve it...
More knocking on the door. “Come on you sprite, you cunt-ass fuckwit. Next in line is here, you want more, you come back when you have the exchange.” I groan in response, and haul myself up to my feet. I slam the pulsating orange button with the flat of my fist, and almost fall through the door as it slid open. Almost immediately a short fat balding face owned by the supplier springs into view.
“Ah, there you are, fairy-ass motherfucker. Who do you think you are?” says Phil rhetorically.
“I've been coming to you for three months now, Titties,” I croak, “You could call me by my dang name, it wouldn't hurt you.”
“Phil! It's Phil! You scumbag junkie you...”
I don't catch the rest of what he says as a voice whispering Bill's Blades, a cut above the rest drowned him out. I trundle home.
Across the dark metropolis...
The city. “A neon fuckfest” is what my old man would say. He was born back in the early 2000's, in a sweet spot where technology and advertisement weren't yet completely synonymous. These days, well-- humanity landed on Mars, and we stamped a fucking logo on it.
“Just where have you been?!” my girlfriend shrieks at me by way of greeting, wrapped in a stained white tank top and throwing a dirty plate at my head, which I duck at the last second. “Out on the event horizon again?! Every goddamn week you're out there, and I'm ecstatic about the way your hair smells, only five more days and we're going to be evicted you dumb shit! Don't you dare roll your eyes at me for your clothes say more about you than words ever could. The new line from my mother, she tells me nobody picks up when she pings! Because we don't have any fucking 'net left you fuck! You fuck, you fucking, god you make me so excited. Enthralled. Enchanted. How will the new Ethernet eZoning leave you, I should have, I should have so long ago... Oh man, what happened to my life...” she breaks down in sob, holding her face in her hands. I take this as a sign to leave and slink into the bedroom, closing the door behind me. I'm pretty sure I hear another plate smash against the door but it's drowned out by a McDonald's spot. I flop onto my bed, scattering half eaten donuts and dirty paintbrushes onto the floor. I regard a painting I was composing before I'd left-- a hideous, twisted man, mouth ajar, limbs slowly contorting into a giant yellow “M”. That's probably what triggered me running off to the Booth, I figure. I turn up my stereo as loud as it will go, all but flattening my skull against the giant UpBeat speakers which were half price at Targét when I got them and it almost A new lease on life. A new love. A new, you!I am scrabbling, through my desk. I am banging the keyboard, on the desk, watching food crumbs and hair and weed and ash fall out, and I get my index finger and I scrape and I get as much green as I can, and I pick the hairs off it and I scrape and I scrape and I look in my cone piece and I have such a meagre amount, I have some wood, some chocolate, obvious lint, ash, a breath of weed, a literal dust mote, an iota of weed, I light it up, I inhale, there is smoke, but I know it's nothing, I smoke, I don't get my buzz, I just get more desperate, my heart is racing, I'm trying not to think about her, so instead I begin this search again, on the floor, in the cracks in the bong, in the, fucking, ashtray, I'm looking in the ashtray, there is literal ash, on my fingers, my fingers are black from ash, just trying to alight anything, inhale anything, consume anything, get my buzz, get my buzz, get my buzz...
When I emerge from my room my girlfriend has calmed down. She has a new skull-shaped headset wrapped around her head, obscuring half her vision. Every time we speak it's a battle-- she always has to decide whether to pay attention to me or to one of her shrill friends or topless six pack cunts she has on the other side, their heads also buried in a mess of metal and wires. She doesn't even look at me when I walk in, just keeps smoking her cigarette and mouthing silently to whoever she has online. I sit down beside her and put my head on her shoulder, tired. I depress into our brown torn couch, settling. I notice her nipples bleeding through her top and grope her breasts. She smells like she hasn't showered in a while. I sink to my knees and hoist her legs apart, biting and kissing her flabby thighs, working my head towards her cunt which I breath warm air on. I lick my lips, and hers, around and around before engulfing her clit in my mouth. As I lap up her juices I fumble with my jeans, take myself out and slowly jerk myself off. I couldn't say if she notices me, and I get up without cleaning my cumstain and walk back into my room.
Phil
snarls at me. His words are drowned out by the sound of a thousand
feet marching, a Nike ad, I think. I extend my hand, he snatches the
money away from me and I enter the chamber and take the call.
This time it's white. Hyperbolic time, the day outside that lasts a year inside. I walk around, on a white that is solid and yet opaque, a heavy gravity weighs down on me. If I squint I think I can see a house way off the distance-- the white is blaring and blinding. The house is all muted greys and reds and browns, cracked plaster, cobwebs, a memory from long ago. Instinctively I walk towards it but it never gets any closer, in fact it seems to recede further into the horizon with every step. I will never reach that house, I realise, I will never have a home, and I sit down to cry. I can hear nothing except the pounding of my blood inside my temples, like I am in space. My limbs feel heavy. The silence is blessed but I can feel the high being reduced. I wonder what the next step is, if there is a stronger fix available. After forever and all too soon my body starts to lift up, up...
Later I'm at the cinema, I'm watching a movie, it's a parody, I think, a Star Wars satire. There's a kid running around as Darth Vader, it's cute, the helmet is just a bit too big for him, too dark and foreboding, silly kid! He is trying to use his Jedi powers to move things, to lift the dog, I'm chuckling it can all be yours for the low low price of and he runs to the garage and he tries to lift the car in it and lo and behold, it raises! You can see his hands unbottle fun shaking in excitement as it lifts off the ground. A parent, female, blonde, all teeth, watches on in pure joy, and the audience shares that laughter, we all of us in the cinema share a unified chuckle. Then the car turns and reveals the Mazda brand and it wasn't a movie the whole time, but an ad, the ad before the movie starts and I didn't know, I didn't realise, and I break out in a cold sweat and everybody else is still chuckling and my nails dig into the side of the chair and I realise I need another hit of the original, truly authentic passion for people.
I'm back in the chamber. It's all white, again, but the house on the horizon seems closer though no more within reach, and colours are bleeding into the sides of my vision in a psychedelic rainbow wash. I'm smiling, I feel content, at peace. I have been here forever, not yet long enough, but a satisfying amount of forever. It is nice. I keep jerking my head, catching snatches of what sounds like the call of water birds, of seagulls. I am thinking about the ocean, seeing it for the first time as a child. How awfully big it was! And small I! I remember the grit of the sand under my feet, and the smell of my mother's skin, sweet, of sunscreen, creamy. Almost like cooked pork. I close my eyes and it is lovely.whispers ofMy eyes fly open, and dart around nervously. I could have sworn I heard something. No. Just seagulls. Just seagulls...the worldMy eyes open and I'm inside that grey closet, on my back. I stumble out bleary eyed, I think Phil spits at my feet. “Heya, Phil,” I say, and look off into the distance for a long moment, carefully planning my next words. “Does... does it ever wear off?”
“You ever done any other psyche, kid? Nothing's never sweet as the first time.”
“Is there... is there anything stronger?”
Phil's gut laugh follows me home “Just the one thing,” he says.
My girlfriend is at to work so now is the time to jerk it. I flip on a porno and I'm lazily stroking myself to this blonde bombshell, mutter Yeah's and Come on's in an effort to rouse myself up. It's a surprisingly tasteful shot, which turns me on more-- she's naked but you can only see down to her shoulder blades, the hint of breasts and nipples teasing me, egging me on. She's telling me how bad she wants it, winking, biting her lips, her hair gold and shimmering. She smiles a great big white smile, a shit-eating grin, and just when I'm expecting her face to be plastered in cum a small hand-held vacuum hovers into view and I realise it's the pre-porno ad I forgot to skip past and as she grins holding the device a voice whispers in my left ear discover great things... I'm holding my limp dick in my hand and I turn the TV off.
The chamber is horrible bringing the world to you to me now. I lose all sense of who I am, what I am, where I am, but I still feel myself exist, in a terribly the place to meet human form. Bound to my physical being, I become all wet tongue and teeth inside my head, gnashing, I become my limbs, flailing, attached to my brain by back by popular demand taut cables. I feel dizzy, sick. When I come around vomit stains the wall yellow, and Titties is yelling at me to leave. I stumble through the streets, a high pitched ringing in my ear, everyone's talking about what could be angels singing. “The wasted potential of it all,” I'm saying to myself, “Everything is potential, wasted. Everything could be so much better, could be so wonderful. Imagine if it was all art. Imagine if all this technology was art...” I'm in dire need of art, of escapism, of release. I would go back in the Chamber if I could fucking afford it. I hold my head and I start to cry and I cannot stop the voices.
I am standing by the river and I am naked the scent of you clings and I have no feelings inside of me any more Zero. Less than zero. I am staring into the water and it is black and terrible and there is no relief, when you need it my mouth tastes of ash and vomit because life should be delicious. I have been staring for hours with tears running down my cheeks and flashes of my life keep replaying through my mind every moment needs a song! though I imagine her yelling more often than not I remember tender times with loved ones can be hard. That's why we're here to look after you kissing her cheek, soft and warm, her laugh, her hand in mine running in rain are you man enough to take the challenge? pictures of my mother, young and healthy at the beach special occasions and I take a step and the water comes up to meet me and no fuss.
This time it's white. Hyperbolic time, the day outside that lasts a year inside. I walk around, on a white that is solid and yet opaque, a heavy gravity weighs down on me. If I squint I think I can see a house way off the distance-- the white is blaring and blinding. The house is all muted greys and reds and browns, cracked plaster, cobwebs, a memory from long ago. Instinctively I walk towards it but it never gets any closer, in fact it seems to recede further into the horizon with every step. I will never reach that house, I realise, I will never have a home, and I sit down to cry. I can hear nothing except the pounding of my blood inside my temples, like I am in space. My limbs feel heavy. The silence is blessed but I can feel the high being reduced. I wonder what the next step is, if there is a stronger fix available. After forever and all too soon my body starts to lift up, up...
Later I'm at the cinema, I'm watching a movie, it's a parody, I think, a Star Wars satire. There's a kid running around as Darth Vader, it's cute, the helmet is just a bit too big for him, too dark and foreboding, silly kid! He is trying to use his Jedi powers to move things, to lift the dog, I'm chuckling it can all be yours for the low low price of and he runs to the garage and he tries to lift the car in it and lo and behold, it raises! You can see his hands unbottle fun shaking in excitement as it lifts off the ground. A parent, female, blonde, all teeth, watches on in pure joy, and the audience shares that laughter, we all of us in the cinema share a unified chuckle. Then the car turns and reveals the Mazda brand and it wasn't a movie the whole time, but an ad, the ad before the movie starts and I didn't know, I didn't realise, and I break out in a cold sweat and everybody else is still chuckling and my nails dig into the side of the chair and I realise I need another hit of the original, truly authentic passion for people.
I'm back in the chamber. It's all white, again, but the house on the horizon seems closer though no more within reach, and colours are bleeding into the sides of my vision in a psychedelic rainbow wash. I'm smiling, I feel content, at peace. I have been here forever, not yet long enough, but a satisfying amount of forever. It is nice. I keep jerking my head, catching snatches of what sounds like the call of water birds, of seagulls. I am thinking about the ocean, seeing it for the first time as a child. How awfully big it was! And small I! I remember the grit of the sand under my feet, and the smell of my mother's skin, sweet, of sunscreen, creamy. Almost like cooked pork. I close my eyes and it is lovely.whispers ofMy eyes fly open, and dart around nervously. I could have sworn I heard something. No. Just seagulls. Just seagulls...the worldMy eyes open and I'm inside that grey closet, on my back. I stumble out bleary eyed, I think Phil spits at my feet. “Heya, Phil,” I say, and look off into the distance for a long moment, carefully planning my next words. “Does... does it ever wear off?”
“You ever done any other psyche, kid? Nothing's never sweet as the first time.”
“Is there... is there anything stronger?”
Phil's gut laugh follows me home “Just the one thing,” he says.
My girlfriend is at to work so now is the time to jerk it. I flip on a porno and I'm lazily stroking myself to this blonde bombshell, mutter Yeah's and Come on's in an effort to rouse myself up. It's a surprisingly tasteful shot, which turns me on more-- she's naked but you can only see down to her shoulder blades, the hint of breasts and nipples teasing me, egging me on. She's telling me how bad she wants it, winking, biting her lips, her hair gold and shimmering. She smiles a great big white smile, a shit-eating grin, and just when I'm expecting her face to be plastered in cum a small hand-held vacuum hovers into view and I realise it's the pre-porno ad I forgot to skip past and as she grins holding the device a voice whispers in my left ear discover great things... I'm holding my limp dick in my hand and I turn the TV off.
The chamber is horrible bringing the world to you to me now. I lose all sense of who I am, what I am, where I am, but I still feel myself exist, in a terribly the place to meet human form. Bound to my physical being, I become all wet tongue and teeth inside my head, gnashing, I become my limbs, flailing, attached to my brain by back by popular demand taut cables. I feel dizzy, sick. When I come around vomit stains the wall yellow, and Titties is yelling at me to leave. I stumble through the streets, a high pitched ringing in my ear, everyone's talking about what could be angels singing. “The wasted potential of it all,” I'm saying to myself, “Everything is potential, wasted. Everything could be so much better, could be so wonderful. Imagine if it was all art. Imagine if all this technology was art...” I'm in dire need of art, of escapism, of release. I would go back in the Chamber if I could fucking afford it. I hold my head and I start to cry and I cannot stop the voices.
I am standing by the river and I am naked the scent of you clings and I have no feelings inside of me any more Zero. Less than zero. I am staring into the water and it is black and terrible and there is no relief, when you need it my mouth tastes of ash and vomit because life should be delicious. I have been staring for hours with tears running down my cheeks and flashes of my life keep replaying through my mind every moment needs a song! though I imagine her yelling more often than not I remember tender times with loved ones can be hard. That's why we're here to look after you kissing her cheek, soft and warm, her laugh, her hand in mine running in rain are you man enough to take the challenge? pictures of my mother, young and healthy at the beach special occasions and I take a step and the water comes up to meet me and no fuss.
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