A concept kitchen suspended above a vaguely familiar landscape. Los Angeles?
"Are we just gonna let those rags burn up?"
"Yes."
--------------------
Strolling around a penny arcade in the wilderness. Every booth is a shooting range with heavy caliber guns that need to be propped up.
Hitler's buzz saw.
The sound of tearing paper.
I walk up to one and get ready to shoot. As I sight down the barrel I see a little placard with the brand name: Azazel. Nothing happens when I squeeze the trigger. It dawns on me that none of these guns work. They're all dysfunctional, ersatz.
A ways down Professor Clemens has a stall with a big weapon on a mount. He's taken some clips away from this young riot girl and he's chastising her like she was a baby, telling her to leave. For some reason I find this hilarious.
Thursday, April 26, 2012
We're on date. She wants me to see her new place and when we get there it's a platform that's cantilevered high above a forest canopy. It seems dangerous but she's unconcerned, even when we try to move a table and my foot rips through the leather floor. Two people come visit us: one, a foreigner and the other, a psychopath. We can't understand either of them.
When they leave we lie down in the blankets and hold hands.
--------------------
580 is all backed up. We're still on the date and then suddenly in a small plane that takes off at an incredible speed. It's hard to control but nonetheless we soar gracefully. Sudden huge losses of altitude amongst the skyscrapers and bridges and other structures in the sky that I've never seen before. We're not afraid but perhaps that's because it feels synthetic. Love in a flight simulator.
--------------------
I'm alone on Grizzly Peak in my old place, although maybe it's a deserted restaurant too. The architechture is confounding but it's pleasant and dim inside. Looking out the window it's a breezy, blue day and I'm struck by the amount of activitity on the water. Strange craft moving out near the bridge and peninsula and also shapes in the hazy part of the sky near the horizon.
I run to my car to get my binoculars. Back inside, it starts to feel like a conflation of the Berkeley Hills and the Cloud City cabin in Big Sur and at that moment a platform with two cars facing each other on it (bumper to bumper) floats in front of the window. They look like Indy 500 cars, covered in ads that I can't make out. On top of them stands a man who is calmly riding the entire contraption. I get the sense that it is powered by hot air although there is no balloon. They quickly float up over the roof and out of view. I think to myself, "they've got a lot of nerve flying experimental craft like that over my house."
Going outside to follow them I see that the cars have left the platform and are floating individually about fifty feet up. The one closest to me is red and there is a woman in the driver's seat who is struggling to control it. I can see fire somewhere in the undercarriage.
Back inside, I realize that we are right on the water. Jack London's Square. My place has again transformed - this time into a snack bar and there are huge tinted curtain windows. The ferry comes in next door and I want to try and catch it. Ready to leave I reach for a soft serve ice cream cone only to find it's made of rubber. The kid behind the counter get's me a real one that comes in an unrecognizable package. Taking it and my binoculars I head for the door with a longing to get out on the water.
Fleet week. It's a lovely day with just a little less gravity than usual. Feels something like Harold Budd's Real Dream of Sails.
When they leave we lie down in the blankets and hold hands.
--------------------
580 is all backed up. We're still on the date and then suddenly in a small plane that takes off at an incredible speed. It's hard to control but nonetheless we soar gracefully. Sudden huge losses of altitude amongst the skyscrapers and bridges and other structures in the sky that I've never seen before. We're not afraid but perhaps that's because it feels synthetic. Love in a flight simulator.
--------------------
I'm alone on Grizzly Peak in my old place, although maybe it's a deserted restaurant too. The architechture is confounding but it's pleasant and dim inside. Looking out the window it's a breezy, blue day and I'm struck by the amount of activitity on the water. Strange craft moving out near the bridge and peninsula and also shapes in the hazy part of the sky near the horizon.
I run to my car to get my binoculars. Back inside, it starts to feel like a conflation of the Berkeley Hills and the Cloud City cabin in Big Sur and at that moment a platform with two cars facing each other on it (bumper to bumper) floats in front of the window. They look like Indy 500 cars, covered in ads that I can't make out. On top of them stands a man who is calmly riding the entire contraption. I get the sense that it is powered by hot air although there is no balloon. They quickly float up over the roof and out of view. I think to myself, "they've got a lot of nerve flying experimental craft like that over my house."
Going outside to follow them I see that the cars have left the platform and are floating individually about fifty feet up. The one closest to me is red and there is a woman in the driver's seat who is struggling to control it. I can see fire somewhere in the undercarriage.
Back inside, I realize that we are right on the water. Jack London's Square. My place has again transformed - this time into a snack bar and there are huge tinted curtain windows. The ferry comes in next door and I want to try and catch it. Ready to leave I reach for a soft serve ice cream cone only to find it's made of rubber. The kid behind the counter get's me a real one that comes in an unrecognizable package. Taking it and my binoculars I head for the door with a longing to get out on the water.
Fleet week. It's a lovely day with just a little less gravity than usual. Feels something like Harold Budd's Real Dream of Sails.
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