Safe Word, Safe Gesture


I’m in a courtyard with other people. We communicate through a series of Dadaist actions and sentences. It’s some kind of improvised, surreal, performance. On a balcony, an old lady simulates being sexually assaulted by a young man. I’m concerned for a moment, but her acting is obvious. I can tell it’s not real. I’m in a room. In this play I’m K’s brother. The room has yellow walls, and odd tiles with bizarre images and messages on. 
My feet vibrate so fast, I glide across the courtyard. I fall, with cramp in my leg. I don’t know how to communicate actual pain, is there a safe gesture to let people know I’m actually hurt? A safe word to stop the acting? 
I wake. Cramp in my leg, struggling to breathe. 
🎭🎭🎭🎭🎭🎭🎭🎭🎭🎭🎭

Squatting the Ivory Towers


I’m living in a squat. I’m looking after it for a guy called Chris. His dog is there too, an old, brown Labrador. The place is a mess. I’ve started to decorate, to change black walls to white. The council knock at the door. We are to be evicted. They offer to help me find somewhere more suitable. Chris’s girlfriend visits. We have guilty sex, knowing that neither of us will tell Chris. 
He returns. He’s a dyslexic at a bible college. I remember how much I like him. We discuss theology, and his dog, that sleeps inside my hoody with its head out of the end of a sleeve. 
I decide to go home. Stepping through the door, I find myself on the moss covered roof of a castle. Like three Haldon Belvederes, melded on different levels. I can’t get through the tiny gap that is the shortcut. I wander across the mossy roof. Children play. Front doors are in the turrets. People live up here. 
We slide down a stairwell to an exit. 
S is waiting for us in a van. We drive across a bridge. The toll is a game. 
First, a hangman game based on how fast you pass checkpoints, second, a re-enactment game, where a passenger has to dress in era appropriate clothing and cross ahead of the vehicle at certain points, and finally, Commando Drowning, which is an off-road race through the flooded, muddy grounds of a former Soviet college. 

DMT with Jimmy


I’m in a limo. Jimmy Savile appears. He tells me about some DMT he’s getting for me. He shows me a Masonic handshake can use when it’s delivered. I tell him he’s a dead cunt. He agrees. He tries to feel me up. We stop the car and I drag him out. He changes into an Asian woman, waiting for her stuff to be unloaded. 
I’m actually in some kind of shared uber. The Asian woman is driving. There’s two massive piles of shit ahead, and she drives through them. I tell her there was space to go around. 

πŸ’©πŸ’©πŸ’©πŸ’©πŸ’©πŸ’©πŸ’©πŸ’©πŸ’©πŸ’©

Oh Come, All Ye Sitars


I’m playing Oh Come, All Ye Faithful on the sitar. I’m wondering if I can busk with sitar Xmas songs. The neck of the sitar vanishes, and the gourd of the body opens up, like a black leather flower inside. A tortoiseshell cat asks me how big I can make it. She wants to sit inside it. 
I’m in a shop full of music equipment. Outside, a young black guy tells me that there’s just a few more things I need to buy to be successful. I tell him I’ve had enough. I push him through the shop window. Me and a friend pelt him with fx pedals. I’m so pissed off. The guy changes, fights back, becomes taller, white, balding. He attacks my friend, pushing his face into a barbecue. I don’t know if I should fight or flight. The bald guy runs, I see he’s out of steam, we grab him, hold him down, and punch and kick him until he is subdued. 
I feel sorry for him. We’ve managed to stay sober for two years, he’s struggled with it. He hasn’t found any meaning in his life, nothing to replace the drugs we used to take together. 

The Treasure of the Buddha’s Cave


I’m walking home at night, with my brother. Overhead, military helicopters release anti SAMS flares. I wonder what’s going on. The night seems very misty, dark, and cold. 
We walk through an underpass, greeting stray dogs, and talk to a mother with two young children. She gets increasingly angry, until we’re worried about the children. The path we are on becomes narrow, and impossible to pass, I climb down a Buddha statue, and into a hidden cave. It is full of glowing, sacred artefacts. The children have been here before. A secret place, protected from shouting, angry adults.