It all started one tired morning with the rumbling dark ambient noises of Necrophorus, in all of its babbling bubbling creeching buttoning demonic glory. Of course at this point I was not in the position to fully appreciate this glory, and stumbled out of bed to turn down the volume of my speakers, eyesight bleary, balance unstable. I was rather tired, having only slept for 4.5 hours, having gone to sleep at 12am out of depression and wishing to put off the task at hand for as long as possible. The task at hand was this: write job applications. Yes, I am not the only one incredibly good at avoiding things until the very last possible minute when you just have to face them.
My Grandmother Sally was coming to pick me up on her way north at 11am, and I had to finish the applications by then. Of course one of the things I hate doing more than many other things is bragging about myself and attempting to make some critical person in an office battling an ocular hernia and an intestinal ulcer, leaving to go defecate streams of blood into the garbage can every 15 minutes because the toilet is broken and he really doesn’t have a choice like me and think that I’m the ‘man’ for the job. Of course this is what I had to do, and although there was some small satisfaction to be gained from imagining the just plight of this imaginary executive, I still had to write things. Curse you things! I said to myself as the letters went out of focus on the screen and I blinked but the goo was still there. A plague of goo, and no words.
6 hours later, I had napped for 2 hours and finished one application (the one for electronic media. I rushed to upper campus to attempt to turn it in and get back in time for the Grandmother arrival and the packing of things for the trip. Of course I don’t have the slightest clue about what sort of self-agrandizing or insane psychological drivel-tangents i wrote about in my application, but one thing is certain: they will think I am not mentally stable enough to work any job, let alone their job. I also talked to the computer center slave, and they said i could turn the application for that in on monday and still get an interview, which is what most of the hiring was based on anyway. Curse you interview!
So I drove with my grandmother, who is actually quite pleasantly neat up north of seattle and eventually to Anacordis, where there is a ferry boat, which we got our car onto and rode in for an hour accross the ocean of puget sound, and between various island isles, eventually arriving at a place called Friday Harbor on the san juan island place. i’m sure this is all quite fascinating. i should probably get to the exciting things.
cut to a few hours later, after some dinner of potatoes and delicious blackberry pie. Malcolm is fiddling with a moldy 8mm projector, trying to get a very moldy old roll of film to load. I am holding a flashlight and trying to help. moments later we are watching a glorious 70s porno on a towel hanging on the door to the bathroom in the trailer where they live, fully featured with minimum poduction value, minimal stimulation of female genitals, and a very well endowed man standing with arms akimbo being laboriously sucked off, while fractal mold patterns pulsate and attempt multiple times to take over the frame completely, but never quite do. after the finish of that glorious film, (my mother’s mother having gone to bed already), we start up the next one, which appears to be in rather bad shape, despite having a cover that hadn’t disintigrated entirely, on which you could make out the letters “swedish erotica”, because each of those words is in fact its own letter. we load this film, with less trouble than the first and start it playing. of course the mold has taken over the image so much in this one that there are only abstracted shapes of the images that used to be there. Sometimes you can make out a face or arm or penis, hair white skin black wall grey. Like Brad’s direct animation, except filthily organic and fractal chaotic, as only mold goo can be. about halfway through the second film goo stuff starts piling up on the edge of the screen, and you can tall that there is all sorts of filth sloughing off and catching on the gate. sure enough, when it’s over, we open up the gate, and there is a ton of black goo inside that reminds me of tar in texture consistency and smell. it was worth it though. needless to say, i brought both the films and the projector home.
The next day we embark upon a journey to the beach to water the dog called Clause who was my dog and best friend and constant exploring companion ever so long ago in the alaska days (who sally was bringing north). On the way there we stop to see Mona, who, by birth, is a camel.
We feed Mona some apples, which is of course the only reason that an advanced creatures such as herself would tolerate us lowly human-beasts, because if she were to even desire to acquire apples by her own devices she could merely wish it and that thing would occur. Do not be fooled by her rough, un-ultra-camel appearance, for she is indeed mighty.
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