الأحد، 28 أغسطس، 2011

Lars and The Books

I like to think I have a Life...I have lost the best book; one I wrote in Rehab, I forget the year, but it was early summer, the garden was huge, with a smoking shed at the end, and a little fish pond...I was taking different types of drugs for different mental illnesses, and I added to those with some stuff magic, the round red pills got me hyper, and I added to that, wibbly woof, a Planet Jesus drug, and some little dark blue blocks called American LSD, or acid something...never touch the Dab-alien, a dark grey evil-looking powder...

So I began the first page of six hundred pages, tied together with string, which I got with the pads from a trip to the post office as I was collecting benefits there with the staff. 

The first page, was about Amorelia, it went from a description of a Choosh dog, which I first saw, in the corridor, my wife holding it's lead, it's an actual reptile shaped like a whippet, and very dangerous, that she had one on a lead, shocked me, that she lay on a bed, in the rehab conservatory (no sitting in the living room, no TV) like the image on my dark blue t-shirt, an image of a woman with long flowing hair, holding a sword, floating around her, shields wearing the Union Jack, faded through red, to orange to a green...the model....cool...it went from the description of the Choosh dog, to some kind of Burrough's like, ritual mourning...then, at the turn of page 2, became Jewish women, calling me as they were dying...where I guessed, in a camp somewhere in Germany...I would make a great journalist, I write as it happens, and I didn't give my self time to let in any type of emotion...

I was aware that lack of emotion was the most disgusting crime...the worse crime.

I wrote what she said when she got home, and carried on with my book.

There are two books, of around 300 pages each. The second book started with a story of two homosexual men, sitting in a garden, one of them spots a gang of gorillas, and chimps, and there are some sort of jokes in it, about invisible monkeys. But the second book got tainted...

I had extra books. I had a red thin hardback book, containing songs, the songs were in Punjabi, they were Holy Songs, for some reason I already knew that, Hindus Indian's, worship God by making and singing songs...It was a translation from the depths of the 1st book, and contained songs of Chariots, and Horses and Swords and Worship.

There were chapters, containing conversations with a Demon, whom I mistook for a girl, until I heard:

"Wear a Purple Bra...."

"You want me to wear a purple bra??? I'm writing the blood of David is dead....do you  really want me to get a bra???"

Lucky for me, the book was more important, than the serpent sex, so I stayed at the desk...I had a little room, with a chair and a desk, I stood a little out of the window, with a foot resting on the roof, perched on the window sill, at night, to smoke roll-ups from butts of roll ups, from the butts of roll ups...Once, when I crept out into the garden, late a tonight, I saw, a river full of reads, and the most frightening hairy orange arms, reaching into the water...a Neanderthal, I expected, or, "that thing...." and I dreamed about the little baby on the basket, floating along the hallway, on the end of my long robes...

I wrote down the lyrics of the songs PJ Harvey was working, in the dark,big scribbles and little mashed up words:


"The Wave Winds are Billowing!!!"

After her lyrics; I wrote about a man watching a concerto of violins...

Next thing I know, I'm on top of a cliff, with King Gray, in Emelbert, in the last war, watching for the dragons demons flying towards us...We are just about to die, and he tells me he loves me, I say I love you too, I die grotesquely, I am burnt to a crisp by a dragon flame...: "Only her feet left..."

Next, I'm wearing muffles over my ears, with a roll-up in my teeth, in the snow...I'm disguised as a boy, and I'm in a Russian Gulag in Siberia...I work there...And the only Russian I know is "Dah..." Then I'm found somewhere by Russian soldiers, discussing Americans, The Americans are God, are you God...are you good...don't care about Americans, no good...then a Jewish man, watching us says he will take me away and marry me, before anything bad happens....

Then the worse book. The second book, was becoming total Hell, not in the way I wrote it, but in what colours it made, and what;

Was being read between the lines....

Start on the story of the Choosh, and pick a special language, use the pen above the writing to pick up each word...and glowing, new, white words appear...

The first language I chose was Aramaic, because of Adalia. It involved the word Sedition, I didn't know what that word meant...Then Greek, then Chinese, some Japan...a lot of annoying Japan,:

I am a star! I drive the car!! I go far!!! The car is a star!!


And so on for some pages....

The Arabic was amazing to me. The Book and the Sword!! it began...The thief holds a dagger, he holds a book....


Kurt Cobain got involved


So many stories were coming to me, so quickly and with little of my own thought....


Molly and Ben and Eloise. Something off-key form the other books, a saga about three people in one couple, and that never stopped, I could always go back to the story of this threesome, if I was a little lost for words, of the naughty Ben who visits Priests, and then makes love on the beach, sings and defies, always wondering whether I am put-upon Eloise, if Polly is Molly...Molly is the bitch...Molly is out of order....

There was the Story of Our Little Sister...

"What shall we do for her??? Silver Palaces or Cedar???

WHAT do we do when she gets into the car, with the knife or the fork....

The book shone like the moonlight outside one night, and I heard many voices, women's voices,, I turned towards the window, still at the desk, as the words I had just written, actually danced in swirls in the air, and spelt;

I Love You...

"This is Elf Language!!!"

It was late so I went to sleep, I went to sleep...

Everything is dirty after that.

The second book, began to shine dull disgusting colours, a dead silver, a deep yellow, a black grey, a lime green, a dull red...the stories were all in the same vein, though I stayed away from translating this one....

I had no idea why this book had got so tainted, because I don't think I had shown it to anyone...

Anyway, that's all about why I'm trying to write in this blog, and rediscover some of the stories...

I'm tired...

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