I’m flying down gothic dark corridors to the music of Rudimentary Peni.
My dark wings sweep over people. I use echolocation to detect patterns in the walls.
I wonder if people are like a ripple on water, having no real existence, being just a temporary arrangement of matter. A collection of behaviours that pass for a personality.
I am at Seabrook Road. It is late at night. We are watching a Chinese nighttime TV station that doesn’t broadcast at night. I am dozing in dads chair with my iPad. Mum is asleep on the sofa.
A Chinese guy comes in and changes channel to something quite noisy. I squint through my eyelids to see what it is. Some documentary about slappers on Channel 5.
He leaves and I turn the TV off. My mum goes to bed. The TV turns itself back on. I turn it off at the plug. It struggles and slowly restarts. I swear at it and turn all the plugs off. It is some evil spirit trying to intimidate me.
I go up to my room. It has red walls, not green. The spirit is banging my door. I open a window. I am the Spirit of Turbulence and I fly around my room with Voronoi wings of electric, filigree light, singing, healing old versions of myself in this small room. I ask the spirit to reveal himself. A wall becomes mirrors, then glass. I fly at it until there is a break. Beyond a huge werewolf like creature is trying to attack me. I grab his jaws and wrestle with him, biting his sensitive nose into submission.
He is tamed, and now on my side. He asks if I’ve ever had sex with a liver pâté sausage. I say no. (A clear reference to ‘fucking your liver’). He says its not enjoyable. I believe him.