CHARACTER

For Igor Stepanov

 

CHARACTER

Immense plastic sruface reflected immense plastic surface. Lemon hair, potato
nose, shirt, trousers. Distant music.

DOXA

Rift of Beethoven, fart of Mozart, dash of Haydn.

DESCRIPTIVE

"Which hotel are you staying at?"
"Schwarzwalderhof." I lied.
"Enjoy the local wine."
"I will."

SUSPIRE

End of fire. Redlight district. Creak of stairs, unloosened, unhinged, unredeemed.
Image of mindblistering cunt.

Breathless on the stair, caught between the devil and despair.

COMMUNIST PARTY HQ

4 men unfurling a banner. They direct me to a room on a lower floor. When I
arrive there, a derelict, no voices, threats, enchantments, a burnt out derelict.

THE COMMUNISTS WILL EAT YOUR CHILDREN!

Banner headline...

NARRATIVE THREAD

I re-hook. Back and forth went the engine in the no nonsense night. Back and
forth, into the womb, tomb and charnel house. I unhitched the lever, pulled, and
spewed forth the perfect story machine.

4TH STAIR

A slow motion shot of me ascending the stair, 4 men unfurling a banner
concealing the deep bucket of baby's bodies. Back and forth, back and forth
thrummed the machine, it seemed to say, in the repetition of the machine's
humming, in the thrum, the deep bowels of the machine, the story is generated.
Back and forth, back and forth, my foot touches the 5th stair. Everywhere penises
are pushing, pulling, back and forth, a tidal wave of semen is rolling down the
stairs towards me, wrapped up inside a cosmic tortilla. A universe of babies, all
neatly eaten, all gazing like dead squid with great rotund eyes, out of the
bottomless bucket.

And the red tide of Communism is stopped, because out of the vacuum
reverberates the never-ending push and pull of the miraculous Capitalist penis,
pushing the Communists back and back.