A Blackbird Fabulation.

by H.T.R Williams. Copyright H.T.R. Williams 2013. Thank you for respecting the hard ork of this author. To disco!er more please !isit htr illiams.com CONTENTS: Wrestling. " #lackbird $abulation. %ut of the #lack. "bout the "uthor.

Wrestling.
The priest paces. He&s eager to get it done ith. "n unlikely contender' old( ith a crinkled neck( tall but thin no ith the muscles shri!elled. )i!er*spotted hands( trembling and stiff. #ut life still knocks ithin. $eeling it no ( amplified by an+iety. The feeble heart thumping soft as a do!e&s coo. ,entle and e+citable as his atering blue eyes. He pulls the cigarette from his lips and crushes it into the pa!ement ith his brogue shoe. The boy&s late. The street is empty. $ull of early*morning silence as the sun creeps o!er the far*off hills. "t last there&s the clapping of feet on the pa!ing( echoing from blank bare alls of concrete and brick. "pproaching( faint at first but nearer and nearer( promising relief and hope if only momentarily. -ntil the boy arri!es breathless before him( and the priest&s orry melts as he looks do n into the bright cherubic face. The boy smiles. ./orry 0&m late(1 he says. His large alert eyes are an+ious too. The priest ruffles the boy&s fine blonde hair( forgetting hat&s to come. What must be. .That&s okay(1 he says. .0 appreciate your coming at all.1 2o*one else ould. Then he remembers. His bo els tighten. He sees the boy&s an+iety gro ing along ith his o n and realises he has to at least appear bra!e for the child&s sake. He sucks in a deep breath and straightens to full imposing height. .Well(1 he says. .)et&s go gi!e 3em hat for( eh41 The boy takes the priest&s bible dutifully from his trembling hands. The black co!er is glossy ith ner!ous s eat. /ilently( reluctantly( they march together into the community hall. The seats are mostly empty. There&s a poor turnout. He e+pected that and he&s grateful. Trying not to look at his opponent( a muscular youth ho appears keen and energetic( fle+ing beneath a tight hite laboratory coat hich he&s gro n too big for. Contrasting the priest&s traditional black apparel. His opponent seems practiced. #ut most discouraging is the youth&s corner man. "n older man ho looks to be the same age as the minister( half hidden in the gloom

beyond the perimeter of stark light. The light bathes the glaring hite can!ass of the ring. Through the glare he can hardly make out the figure. /omeone certain in their mo!ements( mechanical in the arranging of buckets( ater bottles( to els( and an arsenal of thick( bound !olumes on a trestle table near the light&s edge. 0t looks like a set of encyclopedia. Courage. He tries to propel himself sportingly up into the ring. #ut the ropes defining the boundary pro!e more elastic than he supposes. He staggers back again. " bald man in the front ro 5 a fat s eaty man ith an idiot&s face 5 opens his gaping ma and laughs as the priest cra ls a k ardly under the bottom rope and slides himself into the light&s stark circle. 6anting( dragging his belly across the cold can!ass like a ounded animal o!er sno . 0t&s humiliating. His opponent smiles at the foreshado ing of hope&s annihilation. The fat idiot in the front ro chortles( mindlessly pressing popcorn into his gob. The minister sees the light reflecting off his greasy chin. Who&s the spectacle here4 Which of us is pathetic4 With rene ed dignity and determination he slo ly raises himself up7 kneeling( then standing( then sitting gratefully on the small ooden stool that his o n corner man 5 the boy 5 has placed in his corner ready for him. The bell rings too soon. The priest has hardly reco!ered his ragged breath. His body yells that he should remain seated( but the child pats his arm reassuringly( and the priest is up( facing his opponent ho&s no stripped to the aist. The youth&s oiled pectoral muscles gleam and t itch. 0nflated biceps fle+. The youth crouches( and opens his arms ready to engage. $le+es his fingers ready to clutch and grapple. The priest rolls up his slee!es( tying to appear casual and calm. He copies the youth&s stance and then( 8uicker than he can anticipate( the youth is upon him. He feels the strength and s allo s hard. $eels nausea from pain&s anticipation elling in his stomach as the hands slide o!er him( fingers ferreting for a secure grip. %ne hand latches at his left leg. The other hooks under his right armpit( sliding about him like a serpent&s coil. He closes his eyes. The rollercoaster motion as he&s lifted( turned in the air( and dropped. Then the can!ass slams against his back( the shock of it bouncing through his hole being then 9arring to a dead stop as he&s crushed by the youth&s full eight falling onto him. The ind is forced out of him in a rush( loud and painful at his throat. He tries to gasp in a breath to replace it but is unable. Then the struggle begins in earnest. The youth begins to recite a meticulously prepared( strongly structured argument. " po erful litany landing one hea!y fact on top of another. " merciless bombardment of scientific rhetoric. The ords channel logic&s icy stream. The priest cries out at the sting of rationalism&s sharp slicing( the tongue&s scalpel dissecting and reducing e!erything under the sun. He can&t deny the facts. " point to the red corner. :et someho the ords still fail to con!ince. They&re insufficient by themsel!es( incomplete ithout the holeness that the priest kno s can only be achie!ed ith meaning. He&s agonised( stretching beyond endurance( bet een t o opposing poles' the necessity of accepting the truth hich his opponent e+pounds( but on the other hand( unable to do so( pulled back by the necessity of belief.

./ubmit; /ubmit;1 the youth yells eagerly. #ut the minister realises ith horrifiying understanding that there can be no truce. He can no more submit than continue( and so he must continue. 0t&s an illogical thought( but the thought is itself another truth. The rack of parado+ again. 0ntuiti!e truth stretching him one ay and logical fact the other. The t o can ne!er be reconciled( can they4 What then4 Will he snap like an o!erstressed guitar string4 2o. The bell clangs( the clapper strikes hard against brass and the sound rings out clear. %ne long sustained note brought to birth by t o opposing . . . This makes him think harder. He returns to his corner( aching and faint but someho encouraged. The boy sponges at his bro . .He has a strong argument(1 the boy concedes. ."nd you&re too frail to sustain if he keeps on attacking like that. :ou ha!e to get him on the defensi!e. :ou&ll ha!e to lead this ne+t round.1 0t ould be funny if he asn&t in such dire situation. The boy&s ords and serious manner are comical in one so young. The sincere concern is a comfort( ho e!er. Though things are bleak( perhaps they on&t be so bleak in a time to come. To think in this ay has become habit. 0t&s faith&s obligation. He hopes that the boy&s a areness and compassion might help bring relief to some later( more enlightened generation. 0n the meantime his opponent is limbering up for the ne+t round. Consulting ith his corner*man( ho in turn consults the books he&s brought ith him. The dark figure flicks 8uickly through the pages( arri!ing ith a grin at some ne possibility. The minister sa the corner* man&s eyes shine briefly through the gloom7 !acuous( empty. His opponent is up( bouncing nimbly( a sickening e+pression of smugness( arrogance and surety. The bell clangs again. The priest is gal!anised into action. Whate!er the young man has planned( it ne!er gets to happen. His opponent&s underestimation of faith&s tenacity allo s an opportunity. Without hesitation( the priest finds himself on the other side of the ring( engaging the youth before he&s able to get o!er the surprise. He catches the young man&s hand and bends it up ards. Then 5 ith an agility that surprises e!eryone including himself 5 the priest steps around his opponent so that he&s facing the back of the young man&s head. /trength comes from some here. The priest forces the hand up ards. "ll the despair and angst 5 all of his energy goes into the up ard thrust. There&s an almost inaudible crackle of sine tearing in his opponent&s shoulder. The young man screams. 0&m a pacifist. What am 0 doing4 #ut he must ne!er flinch from the task. He kicks do n as hard as he can into the back of the young man&s knee. The strong legs fold. "fter that it&s a simple matter of falling for ard and landing on top. 0f the youth tries to struggle free( the priest only has to push the hand up ards again. He has his opponent pinned. .:ou ha!e failed(1 the priest gro ls into the young man&s ear. .:ou ha!e failed to pro!e . . . and as a scientist . . . that is hat you must do . . . :ou are unable to pro!e there is no ,od . . . though that has been your intention . . . to dispro!e . . . to reck . . . rather than disco!er . . . To reduce . . . and not e+pand . . . #ut your en8uiry . . . has been limited . . . to the empirical only . . . and so you&!e failed . . . to concei!e . . . of hat is . . . beyond . . . behind the

ob9ecti!e orld . . . 0nto the gaps . . . bet een the rational . . . you cannot go . . . :ou see only . . . absence there . . . #ut that absence . . . parado+ically implies . . . presence.1 The priest is gasping( but on&t let up no that he has the ad!antage. Through gritted teeth he continues his hard* on sermon. .)ike a shape . . . cut from a piece of cloth(1 he rasps( .,od&s !ery form . . . is re!ealed . . . by the nothingness . . . you stri!e for . . . 0t makes us hunger . . . e!en more . . . don&t you see4 . . . "nd the hunger . . . has forced an a areness . . . of hat it is . . . that e lack. . . . :our logic . . . :our e8uations . . . can ne!er eradicate it . . . %ur mutual failures . . . are the hammer and the an!il . . . $aith is forged . . . tempered and strengthened . . . by the pain of the blo ;1 He gi!es the young man&s arm a last sadistic thrust and sets him off screaming again. $inally he releases his grip. The bell clangs again( the beautiful long clear note( sustaining itself through the silence. 0n the beginning as the Word. #ut ho hard to concei!e( to bring to birth. )ike trying to describe the subtle fla!our of !anilla 5 ithout using the ord 3!anilla&. %r trying to describe blueness to one born blind. The ords a!ailable aren&t enough. To bridge( to 9oin reality and the ideal. #ut to not attempt; That can ne!er be sufficient either. The minister retreated to his corner again. He atched his opponent raise himself slo ly off the can!ass. The youth as himpering and the minister couldn&t help pitying him no . He looked a ay. 0nto the ro s of seats here only the idiot as left( to la<y to get up. He too as preparing to lea!e it seemed( his supplies of popcorn e+hausted. This as not the sort of entertainment his kind en9oyed' it as too immediate to and too distant from his understanding all at once. 0t re8uired an effort he couldn&t muster( long*suffering before the gratification( a strength he ould sadly ne!er find. He burped loudly and obbled from his seat( and the minister atched him shuffle a ay. The hall as empty no ( e+cept for the contenders and their corner*men. The restling continues. The minister ins one round and his opponent the ne+t. 2either side submits. The mysterious corner*man continues searching( probing his bound !olumes for ans ers. .The ans ers aren&t in your books(1 the minister calls across to him( but the man ignores him and continues his research. .:ou&ll are your eyes out ith all that 5 end up more blind than you already are. :ou&re looking in the rong place.1 2o ans er comes back. %nly more and more books accumulating on the table. %utside( the sun is sinking behind the hills beyond the to n. The silence of e!ening has replaced the day&s bustle. .)ook(1 says the priest. .=on&t think 0&m begging off( but it&s getting late. 0&m sure e could both use a rest( and my corner*man here has to be home for his dinner. We can resume again tomorro . 0ndeed( e&re obliged to continue. #ut for no . . .1 The opponent rubs his shoulder and stares into the blank of the can!ass. >acant ith e+haustion( he sniffs. "s a rationalist he has to agree. The priest sags ith relief( 9oyful at the prospect of sleep&s darkness. " return to the origin( the root7 free from the light&s agonising flo er( the petal&s multiplicity. The youth seems relie!ed as ell( although he&s trying to hide it.

The boy congratulates the minister on his untiring performance and tells him he&ll return tomorro . The opponent and his corner*man put on their laboratory o!ercoats and head a ay( lea!ing the priest still sitting on his stool inside the ring. Reco!ering. He stretches his arms out along the ropes to either side. Hanging there( like the ,od he champions. Thought possesses him. The cross in hich he finds himself tenant is a soft thing( more fragile than the mind that rithes ithin it. He looks do n at the hea!ing ribs beneath the soaked shirt. The dry( paper*thin skin of his arms( torn and bleeding. The blood pounds in his brain. He feels life returning( slo as a tide( the pain reminding him that the fight&s not o!er yet. He must go on contending. With chromosomes( cells( chemical elements collected and 9umbled. " parcel of atoms( of gore. 32othing more( there&s nothing more(& the scientists ill counter. "nd there in the eye of the storm( the tran8uillity of that space in the midst of struggle( he disco!ers faith&s gift. " rare pri<e hich years of prayer ha!e failed to deli!er. "n intuiti!e but certain kno ledge that he&ll someho outlast the doomed receptacle hich contains him as the chalice contains the ine. 0t ill kill him( this cross of flesh. That is a scientific fact. #ut ho much more !aluable than the pro!en fact is the hope of a ne da n yet to arri!e4 /uddenly there&s clapping( slo and deliberate( loud amongst the gathered hush. " single pair of hands. ?ach strike dispelling the church*like atmosphere hich has gro n since e!erything settled. The sound drags his focus back to the immediate present. He realises he&s been sitting there a long time( ho long he doesn&t kno . )ong enough that he can no longer feel his backside against the ooden stool. He rouses 8uickly from his trance and scrutinises the darkness beyond the light&s circle. .Who&s there41 he asks. .Who&s there41 comes back the echo. /ilence settles in again. .0 kno ho you are( 0 think(1 he says. "gain his o n ords echo back at him( as if someone is ans ering from a great distance( a mirrored en8uiry. .Will you help me4 To kno you( to better understand41 This time no reply is heard. The priest becomes enraged. He shouts at the darkness. .Why do you hide from me4 Whene!er 0&m near( you pull a ay; Can&t you see4 Ho much 0&!e struggled4 Ho much 0&!e suffered4 =on&t you care4 Why ha!e you abandoned me41 2o reply. #ut another !oice emerges no ( from the darkness ithin him instead. %r more like an instinct( s athed in gra!eclothes( long buried( rising from some defunct inner chamber."n ata!istic arning. The priest drops to his knees. He tries to stop his body from trembling. Tears as he raises his bony hands in prayer. .)ord(1 he begs. .6lease help me. /trengthen me;1 This time around the minister aits. He aits patiently( kneeling on the can!as itrh his eyes raised imploringly until it&s da n( and the sun begins to slo ly rise from the earth once again. He refuses to submit. He on&t gi!e in to the idea that there&s nothing out there( atching from beyond the light&s perimeter.

The message arri!es ith sudden fury. " presence no more tangible than the air itself( yet it&s frighteningly present all the same. The priest closes his eyes. 6aralysed ith fear.-nable to breathe. He feels the lightest touch of a finger( then blinding agony. The hollo of his thigh burns as though impaled ith a hite*hot lance. There&s a loud crack as his hip*9oint pops. %n his back( he ails and rithes until the can!as is soaked ith his tears. The pain at last subsides. The air returns to normal and he feels more gratitude for this than for anything else before. He limps outside( seeking a fresher perspecti!e( the grace of the morning&s light. .0 don&t understand(1 he says( s8uinting ith e!ery painful step. .0s this your blessing41 He rests against the all of the community centre. This time he doesn&t pace as he puffs on another cigarette. He&s not eager to ha!e it commence all o!er again. /omething&s knocking ithin. 2ot life this time( but doubt7 not doubt about ,od&s e+istence( but doubt about ,od&s character. What kind of ,od 54 He tries to ignore the 8uestion. Watches a hite do!e flapping free of a black slate roof. Hears the rush of ings( like an applause. The street is empty( full of early*morning silence until the boy&s footsteps herald his approach and echoe from the concrete and brick. $inally he arri!es. Return to Contents.

A Blackbird Fabulation.
World famous art collector $ist*head( born of a cash*mouthed stock e+change legend( ears a tu+edo and hankers for art* orld assets. 6osing for a family portrait( he grips the tubular brass neck of a bedpost*head ife ith his crocodile clip hand( stands proudly behind number one $ist*head son( is indifferent of his bedpost*head daughter ho comforts a bedpost*head doll. /topping in at a domed church of tessellating stained glass fists( he refuses to kneel( roaring prayers for fa!ourable auctions at the hippo*like knuckles of a giant( iron*fist god. $inished( he fits his family into an oil black land*cruiser( plucks a child&s tricycle from the barbed* ire* rapped bull*bars. #ehind the heel( laughs ith number one son during their regular bonding ritual of flame*thro er*ing the homeless as they dri!e by like a glossy ocean*going liner( spe ing smog from three red funnels. =elin8uent glue*heads and bearded ino losers flee and scream( oof into balls of orange flame. ./ome darn tootin shootin( son(1 he dra ls from under a /tetson. 6resses a red button on the dashboard and deploys a former locomoti!e&s co catcher( scrapes on ard to ard the blackbird e+hibition( grating e+posed ro s of potential competitors& parked cars( launching sparks into the night( filling the Welly ood streets ith groans( shrieks( pops of stressed crumpling metal. ,rits his teeth( meets a horrible organised end in the form of accident( becomes an open red palm on the bonnet( fist no more( flapping through cubes of indscreen glass like a aterless fish in pink salt crystals( a @ohican of bloody splayed fingers. 2umber one $ist*head son is catapulted through indscreen( through the stratosphere( holds his breath as he dips a 2ike training shoe into outer space before being pin*balled back do n by a passing( bus*si<ed satellite. His fist*face glo s red upon re*entry( like 2e ton&s

lapsed apple. Reconnecting ith the earth( he spoils an "uckland fight night( disappearing into a black hole in the ruined can!as of the bo+ing ring. The 9udges deliberate and decide to a ard the !ictory to the only bo+er remaining standing( ho ins by assumed sheer strength of ill and the technicalAactual decapitation of his opponent. BBB The blackbird e+hibition is a conceptualised orkshop*style e!ent. Tele!ised it becomes the ob9ect d&art itself( broadcast !ia a net ork of satellites around the orld. CCT> cameras ha!e been installed in each room of the installation( and millions of !ie ers tune in to atch( their o n realities blander than the hyper*real arts e+tra!agan<a. =e!ouring( mechanical eyes smoke long into the night( da<<led dry by floodlights( hypnotised by long pendulum shado s( magnetised by boredom and the by*no eternally*springing hope that the uni!erse ill e+pand for them some hat more( all because of their itnessing and nominally being a part of this' the blackbird e+hibition( the blackbird e!ent. 0n turn( e!en the installers themsel!es 5 tattooed muscular roadies( gang*patched 6olynesians in rap*around sunnies( hopping about in leather aistcoats and black t*shirts and tool belts 5 become important characters ithin the spectacle. Tickets ha!e been on sale since the first day. The paying audience 5 illing to shell out thousands for the relati!e no!elty of actually being physically present 5 begin 8ueuing three days in ad!ance( camping out in the hope of being amongst the first through the gates. The roadies are filmed taping snakes of cable through the camp( signing autographs and interacting ith the aiting cro ds. Riots break out( the instigators achie!ing global infamy( their recorded actions !iral on*line e!ents( spa ning mass* produced t*shirts aimed at fans of misanthropy. >ie ers participate by !oting a ten*year*old boy into pole position for entering this 3li!ing e+hibit.& Trampled in the first stampede( the boy has become a blurred angular deformity of his pre!ious( clearly delineated and sharply defined self*image( capturing the hearts of millions ho later atch him cut the ribbonAsmash the inaugural champagne bottleArelease the blackbirds at the opening ceremony 5 from se!eral different angles( from billions of screens earth* ide. %rganisers are satisfied that preliminary occurrences induce sufficient interest( e+citement( and o!erblo n hype to render the e!ent itself a meaningless anti*clima+. Therefore( the hole is sure to become a meaningful comment on the postmodern dilemma. BBB ?nthusiasm 2 da @a+ arri!e in a sil!er !an before ten that e!ening. " sliding door in the side bears their trademarked logo( roars open. They 9og out one by one( each of them tanned( young( gorgeous( female( smiling at the brink of ner!ous e+haustion( each dressed in an official team tracksuit ith cheerleading gear underneath. #arbie( the eldest of the group at t enty*one( 9umps into starting position( pompoms at the ready. Her blonde pigtails s ing( her collagen*in9ected lips thick as life rings. /he dips one

hand into /ilicone >alley and pulls out the golden histle that&s attached to the end of her necklace. " single shrill blast sends a aiting blackbird frantic. #arbie suddenly appears to be reflected back in a series of mirrors as her si+ practically identical teamsters 9ump from behind and mimic her stance in a receding line of perfect perspecti!e. Thin as telephone poles edging a road( they merge( scissor( split like an opening <ip. The light snags their teeth( flashes from reflecti!e pompoms( platinum and pero+ide locks. They > into flight formation( cart heel free as the screen fractures into a kaleidoscope of shapely legs and ra<or*marked arms( landscapes of breasts capped by crescent moon smiles. The cro d erupts into cheers. The ?nthusiasm 2 da @a+ director 5 a giant in food*stained shell suit 5 finishes a cell phone call and steps out of the dri!er&s seat. The !an bobs up on its strained suspension7 he&s obese( face creased from age and smoking( hair sil!er( mostly in nose and ears. He signals to aiting technicians ho set off the fire orks that bring the opening routine to its clima+. The girls stand panting( blo ing stray stra s of hair from their faces( naked conca!e bellies t itching in and out o!er belt*like hite pleated skirts( chests pumping to the sturdy beat of eager young hearts( the entire cro d diseased ith tinselled optimism. The director a!es his hand like a and and it&s o!er. He opens a portable toilet and the girls cro d inside( heads to the bo l like kittens at a teat( lapping up au de toilet laced ith sugar( losing smiles( me ling and snarling( flashing paranoid glances then cramming fingers do n their throats to purge. $ans dissol!e a ay to other e+hibits7 the girls prepare for their ne+t number hile #arbie heads inside a pri!ate trailer to ser!ice the boss. The director sits on a couch and offers her brandy. "lthough she can&t afford the calories she also kno s hat&s coming. /he&s nearing the sell by date( so hat does anything matter4 =o ning the brandy and pri<ing the hole bottle from his hand( #arbie onders hat else she might be able to steal and take a ay ith her hen it&s time to finally go pirouetting off to rehab. "ll her money is tied up in contracts( hich he controls. Her head spins from fatigue and malnutrition. The future approaches ith frightening acceleration( the director&s hand enclosing her head like a baseball glo!e round a ball. He pulls her do n. The last thing she sees is the oblong of an opa8ue trailer indo . The shado of a blackbird crosses it( to and fro. /he traces a mood in the bird&s shado 5 it echoes inside her( indecipherable( urgent. 0t is the nameless thing that condemns her( the nameless thing that offers sal!ation( obscure( some here else( ungraspable( as though from another time or reality. This is ho it ill end( she ill suffocate here in this trailer. /he pushes back the a!alanche of his stomach and feels muscle stiffen beneath blubber( stones under a ater*filled mattress. /he tries desperately to think of the blackbird. "ll she can picture is her bedroom back home( the posters( the small pink portable stereo( the unicorns and glitter stars. /he ants to return( to enter that room and ne!er come out again. #ut she kno s this moment ill stay ith her fore!er no ( no matter here she goes. 0t cannot be undone( indelible as the pee*stains on his undies. #arbie looks up at the ancient( turtle*faced per!ert and spe s o!er his knees. /he can&t stop. 0t runs do n hite legs and dyes the tops of his socks ith yello bile. .,od damn it(1 he says. .:ou&re fired.1

BBB " huge cro d gathers in the studio of celebrity conceptual performance artist Cruiser Cames. He&s obbling about in the blue clouds of smoke that chug from the signature pipe clamped in his mouth( a look of mystical calm on his eathered face as he balances on top of an upright double base( and sa s out seemingly random discordant notes ith a bo attached to a broom* handle. The double bass stands encircled by distorting mirrors( and se!en chainsa *9uggling d ar!es race around anticlock ise. The big ne s is that Cames is earing a ne style of hat 5 a black /tetson replacing his usual plum beret. Critics argue hether this has any significance in regard to his e+hibit' .The hat is meaningless( incidental(1 says one. .%b!iously the piece centres on the act of balancing( symbolic of the difficulty of approaching old things from refreshingly ne angles.1 .2onsense(1 says another. .Cames is master of the understated. His ork abounds ith e+amples of misleading simplicity. " hat cannot 9ust be a hat 5 not on Cruiser&s head( at least.1 They&re s ept aside by a a!e of fans pressing against a ne ly opened stall. The stall is selling Cruiser Cames merchandise 5 tee*shirts ith Cruiser Cames sketches printed on them( glossy posters bearing the same images( or larger than life portrait photographs of the artist himself in hich Cames looks thoughtfully into the bo l of his pipe( his beret tilted at an angle hile the cloud of a pop*art thought bubble offers a slogan*ised gem of his un8uestionable brilliance. There are se!eral =>= documentaries about his life and ork( and a =>= documentary analysing the phenomenon of Cruiser Cames documentaries. There are Cruiser Cames action figures in time for Christmas( so fans can recreate their o n miniature replications of Cruiser Cames performances as centre pieces for sophisticated dinner parties. .0 didn&t mean meaningless meaningless(1 the first critic spits( back*pedalling as he senses the tide of popular opinion sucking a ay from him. 0n spite of the accepted and endorsed multi!alency so crucial to his ork( he&s a are that only one official 3truth& ill remain at the end( and that his ri!al is attempting to force him into an heretical position. /uddenly he sees himself metaphorically reflected in the artist&s immediate precariousness. The critic&s eyes dart about. He tugs at his bo tie and unintentionally s allo s do n an oli!e ith a gulp of hallucinogenic martini( chokes and splutters. " camera cre mo!es to cramp his po dered face into close focus shot. He sees the cre!ices of his o n tight mouth t itching on the big screen( feels creeping depersonalisation transforming him into a paper*thin facsimile of himself( feels his ner!es mesh ith adrenal*ised synthetic circuitry and begins to s eat. .0 only said the hat has no particular meaning to the rele!ance of this particular piece. Clearly it has general meaning. "nd 0 ill grant it has specific meaning or meanings to the artist himself. #ut Cames does not intend it to function as a signifier ithin this configuration( hich is primarily articulating the impossibility of an original position hilst at the same time ironically demonstrating one.1

His opponents hiss( dra a ay in disgust( regroup. " toothpick flicks bet een the feminine lips of a Cim @orrison replica arts columnist. The columnist is earing mirror sunglasses. The critic sees himself melt and bend( and for the first time notices that the d ar!es are earing feathers in their headbands. .)ook(1 he says( almost pleading. .0t&s 8uintessentially postmodern. The !ie er is free to recognise any meaning they can find in it.1 His opponent lea!es him hanging ithout an ans er( gi!es nothing but the snub of a raised eyebro as he turns aside. The critic&s panic fills the big screen( people step a ay from him. He&s a agon*full of scalp for the taking( hite dot on a ide open prairie. " spotlight slams and he ithers in its heat( skin on his rists and hands begins to blister. They&!e spiked his martini( he realises( flushing ith humiliation and the paranoia*inducing in9ection of instantaneous global fame. His psychological meltdo n is broadcast li!e in o!er three*hundred countries( in billions of homes. They&!e designed the hole thing( made him part of the sho ( calculated his disintegration in terms of dramatic potential. Ratings skyrocket as he sees himself thirty feet tall and screaming( the chainsa ielding d ar!es car!ing his thighs into slices of ne sprint. Cruiser Cames is at the centre( and for a moment longer the critic is too. 2o one notices the blackbird. 0t is atching from a far green corner( shrilling its unheard song( launching into a clean diagonal of escape. Return to Contents. BBB The ad9acent studio is almost silent by ay of aesthetically pleasing contrast. Heinrich Heimlich( reno ned ,erman screen*printer( stares ith cold blue eye through a peek*a*boo fringe of straight blond hair. His circular monocle reflects cumulous clouds( machine cogs( stylised lightning strikes. There&s only the ticking of a cuckoo clock on the all( the creaking of his one* piece blue leather motorcycle suit( and the pounding and panting of his fat assistant( %tto( hose trembling hipped*red flesh is packed into s eat*soaked lederhosen( and ho has managed to capture the blackbird at last. 0t flaps in a green net( hich Heinrich presses o!er the flat bed of the image*scanning machine he&s engineered for his e+hibit. Heinrich&s e+hibit ill criti8ue the mechanised process of mass production( the sameness( the soulless rationalisation bleeding into e!ery Weberian sphere under the imperial standards of marching hite*collar armies( the red and gold standards of capitalism gro ing like those of Rome( forcing e!ery business model to conform to the fiscally fertile( numinous shape of glo ing golden arches( e!en those applied to the fast mood industry of art consumption. .Cah(1 he says( s8uashing do n the lid and scre ing it tight ith t o large and hea!y ,* clamps. .=ass ist funky.1 The blackbird&s blood drains into an empty Campbell&s soup can to be efficiently recycled as an engine coolant ingredient. The machine shudders into life( its middle gurgles like a belly( it shits deliberately poor*definition black*unt*!hite photocopies from its gro ling arse. 0mages of the mangled blackbird sho a slushy grey creature crushed into sno ( its tongue like a tiny pressed tealeaf( popping from its ruined beak in a mass*produced( last*e!er song. The prints spit e!ery here in a bli<<ard( drift into corners to curl up and spin. Hysterical Heinrich screams'

.%tto( schnell; Retrie!e <ee images;1 The hip cracks( licks %tto&s naked hamstring and sends him leaping into action. %tto himpers and scurries to his master&s satisfaction( s ollen brat urst arms rapped around a stack of images. Heinrich eases himself casually into a mo!ie director&s chair( sets his knees ide apart( flicks his fringe clear of his eye( puts do n the hip and picks up a megaphone' .Cah( das ist good( %tto. 2o staple <ee images in precise ro s( nine ro s high. 0 !hant each image to be separated from its neighbour by precisely nine millimetres on all sides( Cah41 %tto stops( confused. .0s <hat nine <ee ?nglish number or nein <ee ,erman negati!e41 The cuckoo clock strikes nine( sounding Heinrich&s fury into higher gear. .>hat;1 he screams( grasping for <ee !hip. .:ou piece of shit #a!arian stereotype 5 are you mocking my aussority4 =u bist ein imbicile;1 His leather suit creaks as he slo ly raises himself out of <ee chair like an arthritic septuagenarian. .#end o!er;1 he commands. %tto cringes and s8uats to re!eal the huge passi!e moon of his deeply cleft backside. The hip histles and snaps. %tto shrieks and hinnies. .2ine <ee number( dum kauf(1 says Hienrich. .0f it !o< nine <ee negati!e <en <her !ould be no separation at all.1 %tto gro!els in apology( retrie!es tape measure unt staple gun from a nearby fold*a ay table( and begins meticulously assembling the images. 0t takes him si+ hours to complete the task ith the degree of precision his master re8uires( but <iss ist not fast enough for Hienrich. Hienrich dispassionately sur!eys his !urk sroo a steaming monocle. @icroscopic cloud reflections arp o!er the tiny fish*eye beads of condensation. He barks into the megaphone' .Dee product must repeat !i< e+act recogni<able formula. #ut <ee image itself must not be recogni<able. 0t must be angular( distorted( deformed( dismantled( disfigured completely( 9ah4 Dhat ist too ob!iously ein blackbird. 0t disgusts me. "re you trying to make me !omit4 Take it all do n at !unce;1 0t takes %tto a further t o hours to gather and incinerate each single image from #lackbird /eries %ne and annihilate e!ery last trace of its e+istence. Heinrich orders him to don bright yello dish ashing glo!es and disinfect the entire studio ith chemicals. His knees s ell painfully as he cra ls around on all fours ith a scrubbing brush( his eyes atering from the ammonia( strings of dribble hanging from the sides of the ball gag Heinrich no instructs him to ear. The artist is still not satisfied. He paces( slaps a riding crop against the side of his thigh and chain*smokes Russian cigarettes. The cogs of his mind race on( but there&s apparently no ay of a!oiding the ghost in the machine( that predatory e+istential horror that stalks( torments and dri!es him to e+cellence. .:ou kno ( %tto(1 he says( thoughtlessly standing on his ser!ile assistant&s fingers. ./ometimes 0 can&t shake <ee feeling that !ee are nussing more <han clichEd characters in <ee mind of some omnificent ,od*like ausser.1 "s he continues pacing and pondering( there is no sound but the ticking clock( the tap of his riding crop and clop of his be*spurred boot*heels. .Diss in!isible shaping force concei!es our actions before !ee carry <em out( unt has ritten our !ery !urds before !ee e!en speak <hem.1

The combined ticking( tapping( and clopping fall into a mechanical rhythm. They are the sound of cogs turning some here behind the scenes. %tto scrubs to the beat and loses himself in a trance. He sees the starry sky reflected on the highly polished surface of the floor. "s the cogs turn( ropes tighten and dra a ay clouds like curtains. Three roadies( no di!inised( descend on a utility stage suspended from an illusion of da!its and lo ered by a comple+ se8uence of pulleys( =eus e+ machina style. They fold muscular tattooed forearms o!er slab*like pectorals( appalled by the e+ploitation they itness beneath the scuffed toecaps of their dusty ork boots. .Dhis entire e+hibition(1 says Heinrich( still lost in philosophy( .i< <herefore nussing but ein predetermined farce( a meta*see*atrical !urk of little originality designed to criti8ue unt satiri<e itself. >ee( <ee characters( are nussing more <han <ee trapped( imprisoned puppets of <iss presently unfolding destiny. ?!ery a!enue of our sought must no lead ine!itably to <ee ultimate limitation of yet anu<er brick !hall . . . @ine ,ott. =as ist freaky( 9ah41 #ut %tto is not listening. He&s lost in the !ision( rapped in the shining night of a blackbird&s ing. Rainbo s in preened oily feathers become aurora borealis( the @ilky Way a smear of reflected photons. The three ise roadies( three dark angels( speak. Their halos bounce like bent balloons taped on sticks( neon tubes glo ing in the shape of toilet seats. Their annunciation is proceeded by a po erful earth8uake. Their !oices sound like the roar of many aters( re!erb like thunder as their eyes become bla<ing meteors. 0n chorus they open bright orange beaks and prophesy in melodious birdsong' .%tto( du bist ein highly fa!oured one. The )ord ,od says unto you( rise up and form a union for set* orker&s and artist&s assistants. The union shall hence forth fore!er be kno n by the more !erbally ergonomic acronym /W"""-. :ou must lead your people out of bondage( sayeth the )ord. 0t is He( the )ord 5 not us 5 ho speaks to you no . =emand more pay( He sayeth( more holidays( and better orking conditions. @edical care and gym use should also be included in your contract( sayeth the )ord. The artist must submit to recognised standards of safety at all times( and himself pro!ide any re8uired e8uipment( materials and uniforms. =o not be afraid to stand up for your rights( %tto bro( for 0( the )ord( ha!e decreed that this thing shall be undertaken. 0 5 that is( the )ord 5 ha!e contractually obligated myself by the ord 0 ga!e to your fathers before you and by the ord hich 0( the )ord 5 not these humble representati!e intermediaries 5 gi!e unto you today through the mouths of these three messengers( hom( 0 must once again re*emphasise( bear no responsibility hatsoe!er for this message( the in!iolable commandment no gi!en( hich states that in undertaking this task you must ne!er e!er e!er under any circumstances 51 The !ision implodes at this point as a tumble eed plants itself in %tto&s face like a ind* dri!en custard pie. When he remo!es it( the first thing he sees is the indented stamp of his o n in!erted features. The tumble eed resembles a bird&s nest. He spontaneously decides to ear it like a hat and unkno ingly founds one of the many traditions of the religion he&s un ittingly about to hatch. The ind ho ling high in the night sky abo!e. Complicit stars ink back at him. There&s the lonesome sound of a morepork calling in the asteland distance. Heimlich positions the megaphone directly o!er %tto&s ear and yells' .Ha!en&t you been listening to a single !urd 0&!e been saying4;1

When the metallic screech of skull*rattling tinnitus finally clears( %tto knits his bro s( puffs out his cheeks and protests' .:ou could deafen a person like <hat( you kno .1 Heinrich reels( screams like <ee melting !icked !itch of <ee !est. .>hat; :ou dare to 8u!estion mine actions41 He beats his assistant repeatedly o!er the head ith the riding crop. .=as ist !erboten; =as ist !erboten;1 .2ein(1 %tto shouts( rising to his feet( thro ing do n the scrubbing brush and setting his hands defiantly on his hips. .:ou&re a dictator( your aussority o!er me only e+ists because of <ee ideological superstructure 0&m about to iconoclastically deconstruct i< <ee help of ,ott.1 Heinrich cools( cramps into a stance of organised e!il. He stuns the rebellious gimp&s re!olutionary ideas ith concentric blue circles of disappro!al that pulse from his arctic*cold( monocled eye. The circles emit the sound of a sci*fi ray gun as they roll out in a!es and flo er like t irling lasso smoke rings. %tto senses the frosty mind grip on his throat7 his !oice falters under the constricting pressure of many centuries& orth of aristocratic loathing. .Doh(1 Heinrich muses. .Dee !urm turns( as <hey say.1 He e+tracts a black leather glo!e from his delicate hand( 9abs his first t o fingers into the corners of his mouth and histles. =ouble doors bang open and Cruiser Cames& d ar!es heel in a card*table*si<ed frying pan on roller skates. "udience ratings spike in anticipation. Heinrich grasps the handle( hea!es like a 2orse god. The camera team traces the arc of his tennis*ser!e s ing in a strobe*like series of psychedelic free<e*frame shots( accompanied by the sound*effect of the bionic man achie!ing superhuman feats of strength and athleticism( borro ed from the popular /e!enties T> sho The /i+ @illion =ollar @an. " Tom "nd Cerry /)"@ 5 back to real time and %tto&s flattened. Heinrich folds his former assistant like a ser!ice station map( prepares a sensory depri!ation tank lined ith micro cameras. He flicks %tto open like a fan( smoothes him out and floats him on the surface of the skin*temperature ater( closes the lid( depresses a s itch on a hand*held de!ice ith his thumb and 5 C)0CF 5 takes thousands of simultaneous photographs of %tto&s body from thousands of subtly different angles. The !isual information is con!erted into binary language and fed like ticker tape through a se8uence of e!er*decreasing spools into a soft are program. The program initiates the opening of a hatch in the top of the computer&s >=- from hich a shaft of light hums up ard( light*sabre fashion. " smoking hologram egg pops up like buoyant toast( menaces asp*like around the cringing heads of the snarling d ar!es and floats to ards Heinrich&s machine aka 3The Replicator.& 0t falls( a billiard ball inside a s8uirming scrotum*es8ue pocket( gets groped by ay of tactile processing and then 5 F?RCH-2F 5 the scrotum gets !acuum*sucked inside( a sock puppet turned inside*out( and the egg gestates its nascent image. The Replicator 9udders and rumbles( spits out a life*si<ed t o* dimensional clone in lederhosen. Heimlich dismisses the d ar!es and inserts the no<<le of a foot*pump into %tto /eries T o&s anus. /il!er pastry*cutter spurs gleam and spin at the heels of his boots 5 he yodels hilst inflating his ne assistant. BBB

=ressed in the plain black suit of the gaucho( slee!es ending too short at the knobs of his s arthy rists( the mad "rgentinian glares through curtains of greasy black hair. His skin is yello ( his sallo cheeks scarred from acne( prominent cheekbones hourglass do n to thick bristled @e+ican moustaches. Cracked teeth( shamanic necklace of bird bones and anti8ue keys( "ngelos /armiento is kno n on the arts circuit as 3"ngel Rat&. $ace stabbing from ide hite shirt collars( his bony big*!eined hands grab a chainsa ( pull the chord. The cro d sucks in surprised breath( leaps back from the circle of his reach as he s ings the air*gna ing bu<<*blade in their eager faces( gro ls( chases them back further( laughs as he s ipes for their thighs. /omeone hidden four ro s a ay can&t resist pushing the person in front of them( 9ust to see hat happens. They plant their hand in the back of a fat man and launch him for ard. "ccording to 2e tonian mechanics( three collisions later an e+*addict grandmother from Hokitika gets a floral*print skirt recked and 8uadriceps sliced deep to the femur. 6aramedics break a path through the cro d and drag her free. Watching officials rule "ngel Rat should be allo ed to continue( but he has continued regardless( grinning in response to the cro d&s booing( shocking them further by stamping on his blackbird&s ing( pinning it beneath the polished toe of a tan leather inkle*picker( and studying the creature&s ild tugging for omens( creati!e direction. He ga<es up( eyes narro ed at onlookers as if selecting further !ictims. "n amphetamine*blistered tongue runs pink gums like a mollusc inding in its shell. He mumbles laughter through his teeth and raises the chainsa again( high abo!e his head. $or a moment he&s catatonic( mesmerised by the plume of blue e+haust. Then the chainsa stutters( releasing him( and he plunges it do n in a smooth cur!e( bending his knees and s8uatting on his haunches as the blade 9ams in the ooden stage and sets the helpless blackbird&s ing apart from its body. The ing detaches easily( a black petal dropping from a ind*tormented flo er. The cro d begins to boo and hiss. $ront seat sophisticates shout at them to be 8uiet. "ngel Rat is deconstructing the blackbird( they e+plain. " hush infests the air and sunrise stains spectators faces orange. The floodlights e!entually slam off. "ngel Rat is crouched o!er the no *dead bird( the noisesome chainsa traded for scalpel subtlety. /adism dissol!es from his features( the moment shrinks to a child lost in play. He dra s the blade around the circumference of the blackbird&s eye( le!ers it from the head like the lid of a paint can. The trunk falls in half ith the smack of a clea!er. $eathers are e+tracted ith t ee<ers( pressed into an industrial blender ith bones and s8uee<ed out blood( entrails. His fingers ork nimble and smeared. 2e+t he collects hat tiny flesh is left( bakes it in a chiming o!en( mounds it on a mirror and taps it rapidly ith a ra<or blade. #y the time the sky&s blue he&s left ith a clear plastic salt grinder full of hat looks like gunpo der. The orld atches it as a still camera sits a locked ga<e to frame it( a frame that fills screens of e!ery si<e( a ready*made famous frame containing this minimalist ork initially entitled ?ssence of #lackbird( until that title( too( is stripped( replaced ith the almost e+pressionless abstract' 0. 0t is re!erently set upon an austere metal table top( its shado gro ing shorter as the sun clears hills. The open*air studio ears a tense( Wimbledon ambience of respectful silence( broken only by the odd distant cough( until "ngelos finally raises his hand( as though displaying stigmata( signalling that the ork is complete or has at least reached some stage of completion.

0t&s as if a possessing spirit abandons his body7 intensity drains from his fe!erish eyes and he begins to shi!er like a greyhound. His assistant )eon pats a blanket o!er his shoulders. "ngelos perches his matador&s buttocks on a chair*back( crosses his boots and contemplates them. He looks sad( broken( hollo ( finished( pitiful( and only re!i!es hen a bunny girl strides o!er stage in fishnets and heels to present him ith a photo*opportunity kiss and a glass of mate. )eon tries to get in on it( cro ning "ngelos ith a coal black galero. The hat seems to re9u!enate the artist( ho suddenly grins and alks across to a cro d of aiting media. .#ello(1 he says ith an alarming grin. .0t is all so beautiful( yes41 Return to Contents.

Out of the Black.

0&m blind. $i!e years ago 0 asn&t. $i!e years ago 0 as about to cross "n<ac "!enue hen 0 suddenly kne ith certainty that 0 shouldn&t. 0t as like completing a pu<<le ith an angel&s hands co!ering my eyes( and this angel hispering directions into my ear. @y shoes became an!ils. @y limbs ere hea!y and 0 9ust couldn&t mo!e. 0 stood there and atched a truck 5 hich 0 hadn&t heard through the noise of my i*pod and someho hadn&t seen 5 go hurtling past. " truck that ould&!e put me on the moon and ended my life. $or the rest of the day 0 had to sit and 9ust mar!el. 0 couldn&t stop thinking about this in!isible force that had stopped me. Why had it stopped me4 The ne+t morning 0 a oke( opened my eyes( and found myself alone in the dark( like my hole orld had been submerged in an ink ell. 0&!e been 3seeing& a therapist 5 Cli!e 5 e!er since. He has a yello aura( a alrus moustache( and coffee*breath. Cli!e&s been energetically trying to complete hat he&s termed 3the 9igsa &. He regards me as his most intriguing case( and 0 can actually see him glo like an orange coloured filament in a light bulb. 0 can see his e+citement before he e!en opens the aiting*room door. This is here the hole blindness thing gets complicated. 0&m sightless but 0 see things( things on the inside( the missing things about others that 0 sometimes ish 0 couldn&t see. ?!ery Wednesday 0 secretly atch Cli!e thresh the emotionally*loaded atmosphere of his consulting room. His hands go back and fore like he&s doing breaststroke. "s he rants his psychobabble( his energy&s a yello cloud confined inside an in!isible( pungent cube. He&s a golden retrie!er( s imming in a soup of logic( trying to locate the missing piece( the piece that&ll re!eal hat&s behind an other ise symptom*free hysteria. 0 shouldn&t ha!e told him about ho 0&!e al ays felt o!erlooked( in!isible to others( a ghost or a clear block of ice. He&s con!inced my blindness is some in!erted( poetic response to this( enabling me to get the attention 0 unconsciously need. "s much as 0 ant to share my burden ith another( 0 ne!er tell Cli!e about my !isions. 0 can predict hat ould happen if 0 did. The dimensions of his cube aren&t big enough to recei!e it( and the starchy logic that fla!ours e!en his braces( his pressed trousers( the neat arrangement

of items on his desk( ould send him into fren<y. He&d be chasing his tail( trying to make it all fit together. His mind ould try to orbit do<ens of ne theories all at once( hipping around from one to another like a promiscuous blonde electron. :ou can&t force s8uare people into circles 5 they can only get rounder ith time( shaped by their o n e+periences. "fter my session ith Cli!e( 0 snap out my folding hite stick and tap to ards the cafE. :es( 0 still need the stick 5 it doesn&t ork like that. @ost of the time 0&m trapped in a dark !acuum( ith only occasional coloured shapes to guide me. %ther times 0 9ust sense things( or someho kno things for sure if 0 allo myself to really trust the feelings. 0t&s like /piderman&s spidey sense. @y senses are tingling right no 5 as 0 open the cafE door and set the little bell ringing abo!e my head. 0 ha!e to focus( and try to ignore the fa n coloured all of roasted coffee smell ashing through me. There&s some relationship happening bet een the sil!er sound of the bell and a person sitting to my right7 a oman7 a beautiful( dark*haired oman7 a deeply lonely oman ho&s aiting for someone and looking at a maga<ine on the hite*topped table in front of her. /he&s probably earing a blue or lilac summer dress. /he&s going to laugh. /he&s going to read something funny and laugh. "nd there it is' a sil!er foil butterfly( fabulous and gentle( pulsing briefly through the black( same pitch as the bell abo!e the door. 0&m intrigued. 0t&s pu<<ling ho 8uickly she s8uashes it( crushes it into a dry paper ball and s allo s it do n again. /he&s conscious that others might ha!e noticed. There&s a mi+ of orry and embarrassment. /he&s seen me' looks directly up into my face and 5 click; 5 it&s like the lightning god 9ust took a black and hite photograph of her( a camera flash etching the details ith momentary light. 0&!e come to refer to this phenomenon as 3the lightning god(& by the ay. The mysterious re!ealer of secrets that ga!e me this regrettable gift. That&s ho it comes sometimes( like a blink of lightning sho ing me hat&s there. 0 don&t ha!e any choice in hat 0 see( and mostly there&s no apparent reason behind it. Who kno s hy anything happens like it does4 /ure( there&s a pattern to things( an o!erall picture( a meta*plan that orks itself together regardless of our personal hopes and schemes. #ut hen you only get to see a life&s* orth of pieces . . . We&re all in the dark( all in the soup together. 0 take a seat at the indo table directly behind her. =oris calls good morning from the other side of the counter and asks if 0 ant the usual. 0 nod( kno ing =oris ill be looking at me( then settle back in my chair( sensing the oman&s shoulder blades only a foot or so a ay( imagining her slender forearms( ho they must glo in the hot sun lancing through from the busy street. 0 hear her turn a page of her maga<ine. 0 can smell her skin( the hot chocolate she&s finished too 8uickly( make*up she rarely bothers earing. Her hair&s the best thing 0&!e smelt all eek. #ut there&s something else. There&s an absence at the centre of her emotional person( a black hole sucking happiness a ay( stealing the light from her occasional ner!ous smiles. 0t&s an emptiness car!ed in her chest7 but sometimes( someho ( hea!y as a cannon ball. 0t&s non*li!ing( but in the same ay that a ghost is non*li!ing7 disembodied( but located in a specific space behind the breastbone7 atemporal( but ha!ing its o n tragic history that refuses to dissol!e7

ithout identity( but identifiable due to its uni8ue ay of haunting her daily life7 formless( but o ning shape( according to hate!er li!ing peripheries surround it. )ightning in the darkness behind my eyelids e+poses the landscape of her trouble. /he&s a grape. Her body&s an ice green grape and her skin is soft and thin( her centre s eet and fragrant. #ut the pip doesn&t belong there. " callous shell&s gro n around it( and forking !eins stab a ay from it in a radial net ork. There&s a painful circulation of memories( a scribble of !oices clamouring to con!ince her she&s orthless( ho ling like storms that shake her hen there&s no* one else around( or hispering on through 8uieter moments( through the breaks in con!ersation. The space demands to be filled. 0t gna s at her like a parasite( this unclean bird cupped by unseen hands. /ometimes( it descends like a thundercloud( settles in the !alley of her clea!age( translates into actual pain akin to aching and hunger. "t night( alone in a hite bed( she curls around the centre of this absence like an apostrophe on blank paper. /he chokes and tries to s8uee<e it a ay( s8uee<e it out. /he has a history of drinking( to dro n and deaden it( to fortify herself against the horror of this leach 5 it&s a leach no 5 oily and black as a cold et eel( clamped at the top of her peritoneal ca!ity( its mouth ready as a basketball hoop( teeth like shards of glass. 0t hangs all its eight do n inside her until she&s forced to fill it. /he inhales smoke( gulps do n li8uid( until it inflates like a indsock. Then it lea!es her alone for a hile. T o eeks( a month at the most( and it&s back demanding again. )ately she&s been o!ereating( trying to fill it ith food instead. /omething odd happens then. /he turns and pats my arm( sending arm sparks up as far as my shoulder( do n as far as my rist. 0 can tell she&s smiling( but not at me. /he&s focused on the indo and the street( like she kno s before it happens. " fe seconds later and the bell rings as the cafE door opens and in alks her date. He&s out of breath( apologising. / eaty armpits sho on my inner radar like t o blaring trumpets that herald his arri!al. He gi!es her some e+cuse that&s full of lies. He&s distorted( a arped !inyl )6 that keeps playing his o n sound track( the glossy black rings of /aturn turning on a transparent( o!er*inflated centre. /he deser!es better( and she kno s it( too. #ut the connection bet een her and this man is ine+plicably strong. /he&s bound by the gra!ity of an unfortunate destiny( and there&s resignation( s irling and clouding inside her like dust motes choking sunlight. 0t&s not enough to dim hat looks like heroism. Today( the absence has e+panded( a superno!a of 0ndian ink gro ing at the centre of her dry( blotting paper life. Her entire uni!erse is a strange construction of origami figures no . /he&s an origami oman and he&s an origami man. The table di!iding them is flimsy and the danger is that he could set her orld alight( perhaps. /he hopes that he ill. Then she&d feel the agony of burning for another. 0t ould be a elcome change from the pain of her personal emptiness. Who kno s4 0t might consume the absence along ith e!erything else. Fnock it right out of her like a flying( turning skittle. /he plans to lead him to her bed and submit to hate!er catalytic flame the flesh of his confident body might secretly be guarding. #ut she kno s already that 9ust as it as ith the last stranger( and the one before that( she on&t disco!er hat it is that&s missing. Rising in the morning( she&ll scrub the film of ash a ay so hard that her grape*skin ill break( and the ater

spiralling do n the plughole ill be pink( and for a hile she&ll feel much better. #ut hen she mops condensation from the mirror in the bathroom( she&ll see that no lasting( longed*for transformation has occurred. The same demon ill remain( staring hatefully back at her( despising her ane for yet another failed e+orcism. Then the lightning god clatters through me like a speeding truck. 0 see hat&s coming and free<e. Why her4 0 drop my stick as 0 attempt to rise and arn her. They&re already heading for the door. /he&s seeing me( looking right at me( stopping to help and touching me again( pressing the retrie!ed folded stick into my hands. There&s a moment that stretches like che ing gum( ide as the girth of a planet( the most memorable single piece of my life to date. 0t&s like scales are melting from my eyes( defrosting into tears. 0 can see again( and 0&m looking right into her face. 0&m looking into ice green eyes that are looking right back at me. 0 see her mouth. 0 hear her speak. .We&ll understand e!entually(1 she says. #ut no ( instead of being blind 0&m struck dumb. 0 can see but can&t ans er( and 0&m too ama<ed to e!en mo!e and stop them. When 0 finally manage to tear my shoes from the earth&s surface( =oris arri!es ith my order and gets in my ay. 0 push her aside ith too much force( atch her collide into one of the hite*topped tables( atch a sil!er teaspoon 9ump like a fish on a fro<en lake. 0 atch the last piece lock into place( as the couple step out into the road. Return to Contents.

About The Author:

H.T.R. Williams is an a ard* inning Welsh riter resident in 2e Dealand. )earn more about his ork( bro se and do nload more e#ook titles( and read articles for $R?? by !isiting htr illiams.com Copyright H.T.R. Williams 2013. 0/#2 GHI0GG22JIJ2I.