Elon Musk wants to destroy the world. His simulation theory would destroy the universe as we know it. He is the ultimate Villain. Cat stroker. He is a Shaman without Portfolio. But the most important thing is ‘Nobody asked us’. We are the ones affected by this monumental decision and nobody fucking cares about our opinions. I f somebody would ask me then to be honest I wouldn’t know what to say anyway. But it’s nice to be asked. What will she do? She has divine knee length boots that shine black and when she wears them her back arches like a cat and she knows she is a Goddess. But as they hoard the money these TechnoGods they take more of our lives entwined as it is by the commerce and function of finance. They take the world we know as it stands a thing of beauty and magic, of ‘other lands’ and they replace it with hand held portals to the horror of ourselves. With the screen and the hardware replacing ‘The land that never ends and the Unicorn’. Stuck in the Probability City. Hands deep in your fucking pockets. Trying not to be seen. Trying not to look at the adverts. The people driving and looking at their phones. The shit music from every device and you have to shut it all out because you know she hears it too and she loves it, trapped as she is, she feeds still. And you think your Dyslexia is a fucking treasure, a gift.
Alan Moore looks like Roy Wood of Wizard
But he doesn’t give a shit
He’d rather look like Aqualung than Eddie bloody Izzard
If I squint just right and look in my peripheral vision I can see Stars more clearly. Something to do with rods and cones, the position of things I don’t have space to understand.
I was sitting up in bed waiting for the Doctor to get to me. He was gargling with the old Indian man next to me. Talking about something the Indian man didn’t understand. I could get two paracetamol 500mg and 50ml of Morphine by mouth. The Nurse on night duty would come by between 9.00pm and 11pm. She would be happy double checking doses then squirting it into my mouth with a syringe. It would taste good. As well as the intravenous morphine I had attached to my arm. The ‘Morphine Machine’ was in a perspex locked box on a stand and wheels. I thought it was so I wouldn’t be able to increase the dose. But it was to stop people stealing the clear bag of Morphine loveliness. In the afternoon as the sun was low. It would shine through the ward and hit the bag just at the correct angle. The sunlight would split into refracted rays that sparkled and shone like rainbows.
I was reading ‘Watchmen’ a big paperback. Listening to Metallica on my headphones, ignoring the splitting pains in my abdomen. Rorschach. He wore the mask because he couldn’t bear to expose himself to the horror of his world. I always had the idea Rorschach didn’t wear a mask at all but it was our inability to see ourselves in his eyes that made us block out his face completely. The shifting patterns on the ‘mask’ just variables or potentials. His disguise is our confusion. The idea occurs to me that the Greek Medusa was nothing but a perfect mirror salvaged from a crashed UFO and hidden away deep in a cave somewhere. When would dare to seek it out and in finding and seeing themselves truly as they are, they would lose their minds.
You watch through the window carefully because you know I’m out there somewhere. You know I don’t need to be close to send you back to the place from where you come. All I have to do is think it. I see the light in your window dim behind the curtain. Tonight I swear the anger has gone and no matter how far my prayers go home is never found.
You must try to swing the pillows harder girl. Swing it hard and fast and join with me on the road that never ends. The five foot leap for the ten foot gap, the never fucking catching up. Your touch of magic has sucked the fucking life out of you. Draw the sigils on the front door to keep me out, get the five chambered lock and the vicious dog. You are left behind, you are the cage we left behind years ago.
You know we can have a lot of fun baby.
But you have to forget the extents and the permissions. You have to let the tingle in your fingers define what you are and what you subject that perfect mind to. You see you all live in the Stars but what are those shining lights but traps? Define yourself, put away the fears and the traps they lay for you. The Masks they make you wear. The fake weakness they sponge. The Nurses keep bending over my bed and their uniform tightens for a moment as they tend to my needs. Every day here is an awful pain and here I fall in love with every one of my Angels every day then she is gone. The possibilities here are endless, I can see that now. I see your knotted hands. I see your fears as you lie in bed eyes tightly shut. I smell the anger like burnt bleach. Smell the Antibiotic, the infection, the cold sweat, the bleep bleep bleep of the Morphine machine.
At the moment she lacks the courage to define herself as she wears the masks of her day. Each one harder to take off, harder to prise the nails underneath the edge to lift it off and say ‘This is me’.
In the car she kept crossing and uncrossing her legs as she spoke to me and the latex would creak and she would lick her lips as she smoked the spliff I had rolled her. I drove and wondered. I was a Gnostic looking into the mirror, the refracted things corrupted and foul. Always looking beyond the digital thing they had made at this analogue beauty, sitting in the car, getting slowly stoned. Adjusting the seat back so her skirt rode up, not for me, for her.
Later on she would be naked under a coat in a crowded pub, because she liked the way people bumped into her not knowing she was hot skinned and raw underneath. I laughed with her as she did it, holding a beer that was making me feel sick. Every time I grabbed her ass and bit her neck I drew a Sigil on her.
The First Mask of Ashmod. The Veiled Constant. The Sixth Seven. So on and on. Every Sigil I visualised the TechnoSatans. The music in that place was a travesty. She bumped her hips in time with it and I knew she was going, knew she was total vibration. Her eyes closed. We must stop Elon Musk.