Flying Whale, Standing Cow


I’m in a city. Victorian red brick suburbs and large trees. In the sky, a single cow is standing. Chewing the cud. There’s a whale flying toward it. An orca, but with some features more like a humpback. I hold a joystick. I control the whale. It’s a game. The aim is to collect the cows. 
Buildings and trees obscure my view. It’s harder than it looks. I steer the flying whale nearby, I want a closer look. 
Up close, I can see that the whale isn’t a solid, single thing, but is made up of many small flickering blue fish. They swarm around trees and chimneys, reforming as the flying whale on the other side. 
An amazing thing. Made up of many smaller amazing things. 

๐Ÿฎ๐Ÿ‹

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Black Hole, Black Metalย 


I’m in Scotland. I have a cartoon hand on the end of a stick. I joke about using it for sexual harassment at a distance. Then I use it to pat a dog in a garden. It’s not a dog, but a wild boar, and he’s annoyed by it. A woman in the garden tries to calm him down. 
I’m lay on my back, looking at the grey sky. The clouds are different here. They swirl in angular, kaleidoscopic patterns. I get out my iPhone to film them. It takes me a while to get the camera to work. The clouds have lightened, and reverted to normal. I film them anyway, focussing on a single small cloud near the horizon. I see a vapour trail head toward it. I suspect a meteor. As it hits the cloud, the cloud distorts and is swallowed up. It was hit by a tiny black hole. 
I talk to others about what we have witnessed. I tell them I’ll put my video on YouTube later. I wonder how many hits it will get. 
Back outside the pigs garden. I left some busking equipment here, but it’s now gone. I walk to a nearby shopping area. I’m with Cory Doctorow, playing in a street band. He’s drumming, and I’m on keyboards. I have way too many keyboards on a huge stand, like a black metal cage, and a green, detuned tambura. 
As the band sets up, small children excitedly ask questions. I hear a fire alarm, but it’s just a kid playing with one of my synths. One of the kids asks about the black metal cage. I tell them it was for an unrealised project where I would track dancers body movements to generate the music that they danced too. 
I wish I could play the Vibraband, then I wouldn’t need so much equipment. 
๐ŸŽฅ๐ŸŽžโœ‹๐Ÿผ๐Ÿถ๐Ÿ–๐ŸŒง๐Ÿ“ฑ๐ŸŒง๐Ÿ’จ๐Ÿ’ฅ๐ŸŽน๐ŸŽค๐Ÿ“ข๐Ÿ‘ฏ๐Ÿ’ƒ๐Ÿป

Live Poor, Die Soon


I’m with my brother, Don. We play a game called Suicide Boy. The character on screen leaps from a high rise window, and you have to steer him as he collects jet packs and other items to speed up his demise. 
Then I’m in the game. I’m the Suicide Boy. I don’t want to die. I change direction with my jet pack, head up instead of down. I see others doing the same thing. As my power runs out, I bash someone into the wall. While he’s unconscious, I use his jet pack to get higher, I keep doing this, fighting people, stealing their power, and moving upwards, until there’s no one left to acquire power from. As I’m trying to jump to the last person, we all run out of power, and fall, landing on a grey stone tower. Speakers below announce that we are to be executed by sonic weapons for trying to escape our suicidal destiny. 
We huddle on the wet rock. Sad and resigned to our fate. I shuffle to try and get more comfortable. I notice behind me, a red brick staircase. There’s an easy way out. 
I lead the others down, through a busy market place, where a radio reporter is looking for us, wanting an interview. We slide by her. 
There’s an ambulance moving slowly away, with gravel pouring out of its open rear doors. Vron holds on to a water ski bar, riding the gravel like a wave. I grab another bar and join her. The ambulance speeds up, I ski through long grass and hedgerows on the roadside. When we’re far enough away, I let go. I walk into an office block. There’s equipment here I need to collect. A fax machine. An Apple TV. An office worker asks about the small black box. I tell them it’s a quantum processing plant for fairy power extraction. They give me a business card. I listen to messages on my fax machine. My sad girlfriend is crying, I’ve only just got the message. 
I walk along a muddy riverside. Jef and his family are there. I climb a bridge with them. Jef is moaning about something. Barb makes the Spock LLAP sign, then turns her hand around, indicating the opposite. 
๐Ÿข๐Ÿ–จ๐Ÿ’พ๐Ÿ“กโ˜ ๏ธโš”๏ธ๐Ÿ’”๐Ÿ’€๐Ÿ––๐Ÿป๐Ÿš‘๐Ÿ•น๐Ÿ”Š๐Ÿ“ป