Is it the story of a girl having flashes from her past life?
…or a writer imagining his future destiny?
Is the girl insane? Is the writer vain?
Archive for the ‘Transmigrant Blues’ Category
The story of my lives… ( Round 1 )
Thursday, July 19th, 2007
I, who? ( Round 1 : Page 2 )
Saturday, July 21st, 2007How hard will they look, though, really? Why did they go to all the trouble of scaring the bejeesus out of us with the hour-long sermon on the futility of escape, if we were really so hopelessly trapped? Starting to think it’s all just hype.
“I am the Light made Flesh…” (Round 1 : Page 3)
Monday, July 23rd, 2007Like an unwelcome long-lost lover who presumptuously returns and resumes residence without the tiniest accounting of possible changes in the interim, my alter ego has been pulling harder on the reins. Eager to pick up where he left off, diving into bed without noticing the new aftershave in the medicine cabinet or neckties in the closet. Ignoring the comprehensive remodeling the place has undergone in the past decade and a half, and the half-mad protests of the mistress: I have my own life, there’s no place for you here anymore…
Religion Row ( Round 1 : Page 4 )
Wednesday, July 25th, 2007The problem, according to Llewellyn Reece, is that the ego, the sense of identity, is only partially inherent in the soul. Mostly it is a mask, based on your true self, but modified by time and place and circumstances. So when the keywords activate the memories, sufficient disparity might exist between past and present personae that for some time they might compete with each other for dominance. It hadn’t been of much concern at the time, since, whether I cared to admit it or not, preservation of ego had been precisely my goal, and I had felt it large and sturdy enough to survive any transformation. It hadn’t occurred to me that the new me might resent this. Selfish, but almost the opposite, since the net result is a total disregard of one’s own future needs.
Crazy Bear ( Round 1 : Page 5 )
Friday, July 27th, 2007Crazy Bear was loaded to the gills, in more ways than one, so it was wise as well as lucrative to humor the dope-crazed madman. It was also fun, if you had a sense of humor; I-Victor, that is-knew him from the crackpot circuit. We made a casual friendship over the years out of an intense acquaintance, getting along, I suspect, primarily because we were both out of our minds. He had guided me along my first, fitful explorations of that which cannot be explained, but can be perceived by the sensitive, and instructed me in the fundamentals of the Art.
Be Here Now ( Round 1 : Page 6 )
Monday, July 30th, 2007Occupying a rather more modest nook next door is the Society to Restore Natural Selection, which is a new one to me. Girlish curiosity overcoming my haste, I skim a handbill: (more…)
Church of the Eternal Glow… ( Round 1 : Page 7)
Wednesday, August 1st, 2007I edge away from the entrance to the Cult of Cuckoo Ca-Ca, pick up my pace to quickly get beyond the horrible groaning inside the Masochist Gym & Sauna, and consider crossing the street entirely to avoid what I at first take to be an Episcopal Church, of all things-what on Earth is that doing here?-but calm down when I realize it is actually the E-piss-go-pal, a homosexual watersports collective and Ecstacy-drenched dance club.
Pleasure / Pain (Round 1 : Page 8)
Thursday, August 2nd, 2007The chapel/dance floor is mostly deserted, as the action/services here are a strictly nighttime affair, but the Holy DJ is installed behind the Eternal Turntables, spinning the electronic hymns of the faith, and five or six psychedelic dervishes are still furiously contorting their way to dance enlightenment, with and without glowsticks, before him. Holoprojectors cast animated abstractions on every crevice of every wall, and multicolored lasers pierce the thick cloud of haze emitting from what I presume is the Sacred Smoke Machine.
The boundary between Babylon and bohemian heaven ( Round 1 : Page 9 )
Friday, August 3rd, 2007Well, it’s not a disaster. Obviously the Order, enhanced by my large “offering,” moved to more spacious and luxurious quarters. Maybe Melvin knows where they moved. I knock.
Prove it didn’t happen… (Round 2)
Sunday, August 5th, 2007I smell a conspiracy… (Round 2 : Page 2)
Wednesday, August 8th, 2007Unbeknownst to me (though it was a predictable enough fuck-up), as I prated on about Socrates and his death sentence for corrupting the youth, among my unwilling audience sat the vengeance-oriented father of the school’s biggest and most incorrigible dealer, a sloppy, juvenile operator unconcerned with consequences because he knew he’d never truly face them.
Restore meaning to the Bill of Rights… (Round 2 : Page 3)
Friday, August 10th, 2007The prevalence of crack in Washington, D.C. shows that not only is the Pentagon actively importing cocaine, but that they are also too lazy to ship it much further than Capitol Hill.
Sunny Oaks Correctional Institution… (Round 2 : Page 4)
Sunday, August 12th, 2007“Hi, Class!” I say, striving to sound cheerful yet cool.
“Hi, Victor!” the class chants back at me.
“It ain’t my kid…” (Round 2 : Page 5)
Monday, August 13th, 2007The program, brainchild of Warden Cleevenhoff, is the only one of its kind, as my course is the sole offering of Sunny Oak’s continuing education curriculum, and is not attached to any attempt at a degree.
Murican Pie… (Round 2 : Page 6)
Thursday, August 16th, 2007“I call this ‘Murican Pie’.” He drains another voice-cracking tendril of phlegm from his gullet.
“You need a war…” (Round 2 : Page 7)
Tuesday, August 21st, 2007“You need a war,” Mr. Pink stated, sinking comfortably into the red- cushioned plushness of the Throne.
Secret society professional… (Round 2 : Page 8)
Sunday, August 26th, 2007Shrub nodded, emerging from his daze. His father had made a humiliating gaffe once, in referring to the anniversary of that infamous attack, which had brought Murica into Double-U Double-U Eye-Eye; it would be good to supplant the event in the public memory. “But how do we get Juhpan to bomb us again? They sells us so many flying carpets these days.”
Madman Insane & Assum Ibn Plottin… (Round 2 : Page 9)
Saturday, September 1st, 2007The people of Murica were duly outraged. They took to the streets and demanded the heads of Assume Ibeen Plottin’ and Madman Insane. Evidence emerged that these shadowy figures with the strange names had masterminded a plot in which everyone in or from Rug Country was implicated, except, of course, the Hash-fiends who had actually done the deed at Mr. Pink’s behest.
Magical Practitioners… (Round 2 : Page 10)
Wednesday, September 5th, 2007Stephen King? More like Salman Rushdie. “Thank you, Trombone, that was…interesting.” Seditious? Libelous? Paranoid? A good way to get yourself permanently silenced?
Rebellion in the air… (Round 2 : Page 11)
Tuesday, September 11th, 2007“John Barth,” I insist. “We talked about fucking metafiction when we read fucking Lost in the Fuck-I mean, Funhouse. Metafiction. Who can tell me what it means?!”
Game of Life (Round 2 : Page 12)
Thursday, September 20th, 2007It feels good to walk out of prison, even after only an hour. Bad vibe doesn’t begin to describe it. Penitentiaries, are, after all, the closest thing to Hell which actually exist.
Spare change – Manna from heaven (Round 3 : Page 1)
Thursday, September 27th, 2007“Okay, I want to talk about Ireland. Specifically, I want to talk about the Famine. About the fact that there never really was one. There was no famine. See, Irish people were only allowed to eat potatoes. All of the other food, meat fish vegatables were shipped out of the country under armed guard to England while the Irish people starved.
Freedom’s just another word… (Round 3 : Page 2)
Sunday, October 28th, 2007“Suddenly I was in danger. I’ve never been in a fight in my life; throughout school I’d always bribed a tough kid to be my bodyguard. And as a teenager I had become a pacifist. I knew that this skinny punk could hurt me. So I gave him the four bucks or so I had in my pocket, and said, ‘Here, now you’ve got more than me.’ And I felt guilty telling that monstrous one-quarter-of-one-percent truth. While literally the case for the moment, it was a cruel mockery, for he would never have as much, no matter how hard he tried, than I had won in the lottery of birth.”
I’m losing my faith in anarchy… (Round 3 : Page 3)
Tuesday, January 1st, 2008He takes a scoopful of hummus with his pita bread. “The novelty wore off after a week or so. One day I scored a ten-dollar bill from this guy with his son. A cop had pulled him over for DUI, but having the kid in the car had gotten him a break. He was supposed to cool it for a few hours before trying to drive. ‘Son,’ he said. ‘Remember Old Pappy, the nice old man from in front of the corner store? He’s in Heaven now, but I always give to the street people in his memory. I want you to always do the same.’ It brought tears to my eyes, but also a sick feeling to my stomach, which though empty, was still counterfeit. I was nothing like sweet Old Pappy.”
Auras and Animal Totems (Round 3 : Page 4)
Sunday, January 13th, 2008A lump rises to my throat. “What do you see?” Crazy Bear sees auras and animal totems, and is regarded by several mutual acquaintances as a gifted clairvoyant. According to his third eye, I am, like him, a bear; though he claims I am a diminutive, lusty koala, while he himself is a Ukrainian black bear. The totem represents the last form, his theory holds, that a given individual occupied, prior to being human.
Somewhere between the signing and cashing of the check – Round 3 : Page 5
Wednesday, January 23rd, 2008Maybe I’ll cast a spell when I get home. Haven’t done that in forever. Seemed easier just to buy things. My spiritual health, I realize with a heart- stopping flash, has never been more precarious. When did I get to be so…worldly?
The Electric Kool-Aid Acid Test – Round 3 : Page 6
Wednesday, January 30th, 2008She produces a small vial of amber liquid. “Laced with DMSO for fast action.” I stick out my tongue. “How deep do you want to go?” I hold up three fingers. She administers three hundred micrograms, more or less, first to me, then herself. The alcohol solvent mildly burns my tongue. I momentarily see stars. My belly tumbles in anticipation. My skin tingles.
My Past-Life Regression Therapist – Round 3 : Page 7
Wednesday, February 6th, 2008Llewellyn’s job is to sort and search these files, divining interconnections between them and leading the mouse pointer to the likeliest prospects. It is an inexact science, to say the least-but, with history to corroborate recollections of notable avatars, it is actually less so than, say, psychology, in which my past-life regression therapist holds a distinguished Ph.d.
the Hottest Thing that Ever Happened to Literature – Round 3 : Page 8
Friday, February 22nd, 2008Portrait of the Artist – Round 3 : Page 9
Friday, March 21st, 2008“Do you want to talk about it?” Llewellyn inquires softly. She has been sitting patiently, while I absorb the implications of a lifetime.
Delivering the News – Round 4 : Page 1
Thursday, June 5th, 2008“Sorrow sometimes teach a lesson well,
And I know that good can come from bad
So let’s look into that morning Star
‘Cause you know just who you are…”
Guilty on all Counts – Round 4 : Page 2
Friday, July 4th, 2008“Maybe three months until you start showing symptoms, if that. From there, it’s rapidly downhill. Bedridden in six months. Your type of malignancy has a survival rate of about five percent at a year. There are always miracles, of course.”
Suicide Suddenly Seems Attractive (Round 4-Page 3)
Sunday, August 3rd, 2008Suicide suddenly seems very attractive.
Guns are for psychos; hanging and wrist slashing for halfhearted gestures. I’ve always been terrified of heights and there’s no way on Goddess’s green Earth I’m spending my last seconds watching a sidewalk or ocean rushing up on me. I’ve gotten plenty of that in cold-sweat nightmares.