26. A Memory of Abel in the future

Abel at Barons Court Station. Monoprint and pen.

The harmonica woman is sitting in the corner of a dark damp tunnel. She still has the white face paint on and bright red lipstick, though it’s running somewhat, giving her a monstrous appearance. She is stitching something together, slowly. carefully, in the candlelight. Her thoughts are of Abel. How she first saw him at Barons Court Station, as we saw him, horror on his face, blood on his hands, in the near future. How he loves Elsie then, oh yes, how he will love her then as he never loved her when she was alive.

Time will go slowly then, so slowly. He will live every second since his very first Spletzer-Martin tablet as detailed pictures in his head. But all that is yet to happen for him. This horror he knows only as confused drug inspired dreams, along with his own death. Currently he lies semi-conscious at the harmonica woman’s feet, registering nothing but the flicker of the candle flame.

She is stitching herself a child.

 

Last episode Red Wine and Revolution 3.

For a list of all the Spletzer-Martin 5 episodes go to The Further Adventures of the Spletzer-Martin 5

Perfect Child

11. Her Pet Project

Elsie was a good girl. Always had been. From a middle income family who wanted the very best for their little girl. She was an only child. At 12 Elsie was remarkably good at art and harboured an ambition to go to art school. Her parents informed her otherwise. There was no point in them paying for her to do an art degree, what good would it do her? Certainly wouldn’t get her a job. So she went into arts admin, and worked hard. She became PA to a notable art director. He grew dependent on her so she got a decent salary. She was very good,  but she was very bored. That’s when Abel came along. An arty type, he played in a rock band, full of dreams and ego. They met at a gig in Dalston and the very sight of this guitar-abusing beast on stage made her heart turn somersaults.

“Looks like a tramp!” her mother said.

Elsie knew he was trouble, a self-obsessed nobody who cared for nothing other than his guitars and effects peddles, but she also thought she could change him.

Previous:

10. Water

9. So where were we…

8. Drunken Delirium

7. Hallucinari

6. Dread

5. Slapdash

4. Eyes in the Machines

3. Underlondon

2. Abel

1. What YOU Need!

6. Dread

Dread sat in the corner picking his nose. He was naked. A large man, his skin took on the colour of the shadows in which he sat, altering shades of grey throughout the day, a green tint, a blue tint, a touch of magenta. It could be best described as having that quality you get if you’ve been using watercolour paints but never bother changing the water. You dip the brush in, take it out and splodge it onto the thick pimply surface of the watercolour paper, the result you get is like Dread’s skin.

Abel had been seeing him in the corners for sometime now, particularly at work. At first he’d been afraid, a strange naked man appeared to be following him. No one else seemed to notice though.  He didn’t dare ask people outright,  he knew his colleagues thought him odd already.

He panicked, was this proof of his insanity? Then he came to the conclusion that even if he was mad, he couldn’t afford treatment so probably best  just to keep on as normal and ignore Dread, everything would probably be alright.

Once he tried to talk to him, but Dread is a silent creature, the only noise he makes is a munching sound when he eats from his hands. Abel was not sure what he was eating, it appeared to be light.

Attempts at communication were given up. Gradually though, through some kind of thought osmosis, Abel knew that it was Dread, but dread of what exactly he didn’t know. He briefly mentioned it to Elsie once, but the look of terror in her eyes made him shut up. Still it left what felt like a large hole in his gut, and a churning feeling that made him manic when in public. It didn’t help that his diet now mainly consisted on Spletzer-Martins and alcohol.

After six months of Dread hanging around, Abel was getting used to him. At work in the early hours of the morning Dread was somehow a more comfortable companion than those all seeing, all knowing eyes in the machines.

Next – 7. Hallucinari

Previous –

5. Slapdash

4. Eyes in the Machines

3. Underlondon

2. Abel

1. What YOU Need!

Derek Part 6. Fear

The Derek heads I made to place under my bed.

I imagine you who have followed this Derek story think it to be just a story, a made up piece of slightly odd fiction. It’s not though. It is all true. Or at least was at the time to me. To the left is a photo of the Derek heads I made, out of old bed sheets, pillow foam and strands of my own hair. They were made to protect me from the real Derek in the loft. Fifteen of them in all.

I am a coward. I pretend to be brave. I do all sorts of stupid and humiliating things to pretend to myself and others that I’m brave, but I’m not.

I don’t have my brain operated on, not because I’m brave and can live with the alien, but because I’m absolutely terrified of some bloke rummaging around inside my head with a glue gun.

I deal with things by turning them into stories, jokes, games, things not to be taken seriously. I couldn’t tell anyone I was really afraid there was a man living in my loft, they’d think I was mad. So I turned Derek into an odd poem, which I performed on stage whilst wearing a large blonde wig. I then turned it into a silly song I recorded on an old children’s Fisher Price tape recorder. The guitarist from the Rude Mechanicals  created a riff for it and it became the song that the band now play. All to deal with Derek.

No one knew how really scared I was of him.

So the Derek story had to have an ending where I somehow dominated Derek, turned him from the large dark presence watching me from the loft, to a silly lovable character I could deal with.

To be continued… Part 7.

Rusalka

Water Demons

I am possessed by demons due to wearing the evil mask Simon Aronson made me. But luckily it will all be alright because the 11th June is Rusalka Night!
It is in early June that the Rusalka water demons are most dangerous. They leave their watery depths in order to swing on branches of birch and willow trees by night. They entice bachelors and children dragging them down into the watery depths or tickling them to death!
To render these water demons harmless and perhaps lay their souls to rest the Rude Mechanicals will be celebrating Rusalka week on Saturday 11th June with music, dance, and the ritual burial of mermaids. http://www.rudemechanicals.co.uk

Derek part 3. Above the Bath

An eye looking through the hole above the bath

After that I noticed lots of tiny little holes in my ceiling. Whoever or whatever was up there was obviously spying on me. Watching me eat, watching me sleep , watching me get dressed, watching me…

One evening I was lying in the bath and noticed a hole in the ceiling directly above me. I was sure I could see an eye staring down. I tried to get out of the bath but couldn’t move. I was paralyzed, naked, lying there in the bath.

For just a moment it was fascinating, everything suddenly made sense. The bath water and I had a deep, intense love for each other as we swapped atoms, and everything was going to be wonderful.

Then snap – the sound of the radio playing in the next room. I didn’t have the radio on. No it wasn’t the radio, it was people in my flat talking about me, I couldn’t quite make out what they were saying. Suddenly the walls came alive and were walking towards me. The ceiling started collapsing,  crumbling into the bath. Then the part with the eye came to float just above my head. I was staring directly into the eye. It was reading my mind. It knew my  guilt.

The walls were laughing at me now, almost deafening laughs, the people’s voices had turned into a huge black raven, swirling around in the sky above.

“Remember me remember me remember me” came the voices

White white white bathroom walls, holes and cracks and yellow stains, breathing, everything breathing, all seeing, all knowing, remembering everything ever.

Not me, I’m , I am,  I, I, i, i. NO!

Nothing.

“Drown drown drown drown”

To be continued…

Part 4.

Derek part 2. The Loft

The loft above my flat

My flat was on the top floor so above it there was a loft. Strictly speaking I wasn’t supposed to enter the loft, but I had a lot of junk and nowhere for it to go. It wasn’t as if I had to break in, the loft entrance was in my hallway, all I had to do was get a stepladder climb up and open the loft hatch. It wasn’t locked. I felt I’d be a fool not to use all that empty space, criminal almost given the shortage of space in London. So I started putting boxes up there, I had to be careful because not all the loft floor was  boarded. Going through the middle was a rather odd brick wall, it only went halfway to the roof and didn’t meet the walls on either side, but it was very neatly built and kept half of the loft hidden from me, I dared not look behind it.

I must admit the whole loft made me feel uncomfortable, like an uninvited guest, a trespasser. It was very warm up there, the air was close and had a sickly sweet smell like the smell of  sweat on someone who is standing far too close. Though in this case it definitly felt like I was the intruder on personal space.

After my initial desire to unpack and put things away  I forgot about the things in the loft. It became a bit of a black spot, I would rather buy a new item than venture back up there. The banging began about a month or so after I’d moved into the flat. It came from the loft and it wasn’t just banging, there was scratching, whining, mumbling, squealling, and talking. It would happen a lot at night. I lay in my bed looking up at the ceiling, considering the situation of my soul, and I noticed there was a tiny hole just above my bed, big enough for someone to put an eye up close against it and look down.

To be continued…

Part 3

Hot Passion

Illustration for Erotic Review

Friday 28th May 2010.  Hot passion is what my star sign promises for the coming month, but, it says, I musn’t initiate anything myself, I must wait. So I’m waiting…

In the meantime I’m drawing illustrations for Erotic Review magazine, and discussing my darkest fantasies with the Acid Panda on the W3 bus to White Hart Lane. My star sign also says I musn’t reveal any secrets this month so I’m not telling you any dark fantasies right now. The Acid Panda is Anarchistwood‘s depraved drummer. The first time I ever saw her she was on stage naked except for a fine layer of chocolate sauce. She tells me drummers come in two types, the sober straight laced type and the Animal. Acid Panda definitely leans towards the Animal side. Rude Mechanicals are borrowing her for this Sundays gig at Inn on the Green, Ladbroke grove, where we will be playing with Anarchistwood and loads of other really good bands. It’s all free so if you’re around come along, it starts at 4 and is bound to be sinful and warped!

illustration for Erotic Review.

Lynda Beast may be returning for this gig. It is rumoured that Stanley Bad has had a nasty accident with a razor (Miss Roberts denies all allergations). Which reminds me I must do that chocolate eating video I said I would do to prove I can be far more sexy with a bar of chocolate than Stanley, who was mere vile flotsam.

On the subject of fortune telling and fate I had a vivid dream last night where I was in a windowless room with Scooby Doo. I think I dreamt this because yesterday I’d been talking about what sort of dog I should get with Cos and Dylan. I’m going to Battersea Dogs Home next wednesday to look for a dog.  Also on Tuesday Tommy G was singing the theme tune from Scooby Doo in rehearsal. He always sings that, some kind of minor malfunction which we havn’t corrected yet due to it being mildly endearing. Though it does remind me a bit of 2001 Space Odyssey where HAL’s logic is completely gone and he begins singing the song “Daisy Bell“.

In the dream I was talking to Scooby when he turned into china and became covered in a black and yellow zig zag pattern. Although this made a nice ornament it wasn’t very good to talk to. Then the china cracked and Scooby Doo crumpled into tiny pieces on the floor. I had to sweep the pieces up with a dust pan and brush, but I wasn’t unhappy about it because inside the china Scooby had been the real Scooby Doo all along. Is that dream telling me I need to get a large brown daft dog that will break all my china? I also keep having dreams where I’m two people which is hard work because all decisions have to be made twice, so nothing much happens in the dream. Do dreams and stars decide our future? Are they at the meeting table putting forward proposals and budgets as I write this? Are they in the end just knocked into towing the party line by the whip of fate, and whose side is he on?

I’m still waiting.