ghosts CAN be straight
they just like you to wait
and struggle to figure out
just what the hell it is they’re banging on about
they seem to get a buzz
from moonlit rustling in spooky shrubs
walking through walls in empty pubs
irritating jump scares face to face
creeping & sneaking about the place
honestly – it’s obscene
they’re totally gabby but basically mean
SO anti-social, slamming doors
sending weird texts by ouija board
huh?
okay
yeah
thursday
I think
today yeah today
although
apparently
in albanian it’s e enjte
(just googled it)
in faroese, hósdagur
in slovak štvrtok
and in welsh, dydd lau
because
names aren’t the thing itself
are they
they’re just the mark
we make on things
to help us feel better
oriented
in control
moving forward
the past falling away
yeah
thursday
dydd lau
things are really happening
If you see something which doesn’t look right
could be anything
How much time have you GOT?
some have an irrational fear of honey
for example
others might be tripped into an existential malaise
by a three bean wrap
I know myself
I struggle with the concept
of jaffa cakes
I mean
who are you KIDDING?
it’s a BISCUIT not a CAKE
a sinister, STALE kinda biscuit
something you might find in a cellar
after the apocalypse
and eat out of desperation
a spongy monstrosity
infected with jam
they distilled from old car freshener
bleurgh
interestingly
VAT is added to chocolate-covered biscuits
but not chocolate-covered cakes
hmmm
I wonder whether THAT’S significant?
anyway
speak to staff
or text the British Transported by Trivial Matters on this number
We’ll sort it.
See it
Say it
Sort of
Chapter One
She walked into the kitchen
smile as soft as a rolling pin
oven ready eyes set to broil
superhot fan-assisted no tin foil
herb to make a sous chef faint
haute cuisine without restraint
hair as fine as curly fries
that’d drive a monk to gluttonize
handy as a kitchen aid
iron ware enamel sprayed
moulds of the finest silicone
I nearly blew a kidney stone
I need a chef detective she said
know where I can get one, Red?
Okay lady, what’s the beef?
I said, conscious of my teeth
(I cultivate a cool guy image
and I’d just put away a plate of spinach)
There’s a certain party in New Orleans
who dined and dashed if you know what I mean
I’d like to hire your culinary skill
and hold his clip to the charcoal grill
My rates are high, or did you forget?
Twenty a day and a crusty baguette
Fine she said and shook my hand
like flipping eggs in frying pan
She winked real easy, gave me a jostle
iced my heart with a piping nozzle
sorry if this is a horrible surprise
but there’s really no such thing as SUNRISE
objects in space have no up or down
they just troll around
the void
devoid
of direction
their only connection
with Earth
a gravitational line for what it’s worth
it’s not even called THE SUN
it’s just a ball of plasma that runs till it’s done
like that light you keep at the top of the stairs
so when you wake up at night you don’t feel scared
to summarise
re sunrise:
all directions are equivalent
(Newton had theories but remained ambivalent)
I mean – is the universe isotropic?
(hot topic)
does it have uniformity in all orientations?
or is it changeable in some situations?
is the CMB dipole purely kinematic, or does it signal anisotropy of the universe, resulting in the breakdown of the FLRW metric and the cosmological principle?
(I can tell by your frown you’re not convincible
but of course I didn’t KNOW all that
as a matter of fact
it couldn’t be easier
I copied it straight from wikipedia)
Anyway – it’s five o’clock – am I awake? – you betcha
there aren’t any taxis so I’m coming to getcha
(Darkness. GRAND MOFF TARKIN walks on, brooding, intense. A spotlight snaps on. He looks out into the audience, and begins his monologue)
If it it were gone when ’tis gone, then ’twere well
It were gone quickly: if this planetary erasure
Could sweep up the field of debris, and net
In one deft swoop, success; one detonation
And ’tis done, and dusted, here
Upon this safe and orbital moment,
We’d punch the button. But in these cases
We still have judgement: and th’Imperial Edict,
Being receiv’d, turns upon itself,
And tempts us to touch another button
A big red one, marked
WHATEVER YOU DO, DO NOT TOUCH
A button I’m drawn to overmuch
On these long and lonely travails
Through rebel infested sectors;
Hath cause to make me overthink
And talk to myself like this a lot
Truly hath this planet need of my help
First, as the greater intelligence
Who perforce shoulds’t know better
Than to simply shrug and zap the equator;
Then, as protector, who shoulds’t provide
Th’inhabitants with Superlaser Deflectors
Not bear the Superlaser myself
This planet hath borne its faculties so prettily
A lush miscellany of cones and ferns
That were wont to set the CGI beasts at a roar
Verily this chorus shoulds’t plead like jurors
‘Gainst the unfair ferocity of their erasure;
And pity, like a ghastly Ewok
Inadvisably introduced in Episode Six
Striding the blast on a dumb ass glider,
Horsed upon George’s drear imagination;
Blowing the horrid deed in every nerd’s eye,
That tears shall blur their spectacles.
I have no spur but a talent for cruelty
Tight boots and tunics, all gains’t a background
Of underwhelming underlings
Stormtroopers who don’t seem to know
Their articulated arse from their blaster
Oh, well. Whatever
(Destroys Alderaan)
(Scene: an arid plain in what used to be Egypt. THE ALIEN wanders on, wearing a protective suit and respirator that looks like a pharaoh’s headdress. Checks the atmosphere with a wrist gadget, then tentatively takes the headdress off. Crouches, takes a handful of sand, and watches it play through the fingers of their glove as sad music starts to play)
INTRO: What can you say / when your love’s gone away / and the only thing left is a memory? / where do you go / when the love you used to know / has been burned up by nuclear weaponry? / you made your choices – that’s understood / we had our moment and the moment was good / but now that we’re here and the planet’s baked clay / I’ve stopped by / for a while / just to say …
I’ve … been …
… here all along
with science and song
and loved you fulfilling yourselves
you were clever enough
but it was never enough
to keep you from killing yourselves
I guess I should’ve known
the project was blown
when you used my knowledge for ill
my tech getting weaponised
I’d never have recognised
the madness inside you, but still
we had such a time
as I brought you on line
to civilisation from primordial slime
now it’s such a damned shame
you’ve gone up in flames
your beautiful planet
a scorched pomegranate…
(THE ALIEN breaks down, wipes away a tear. Eventually recovers itself to continue)
so … this … is … the …
hardest of divorces
of course it’s
quite true
and the problem
we’d gotten
was always me
not you
I thought you’d be cool
with my alien tools
I brought you in BCE 3202
and those pyramids
we did
so the spaceships were hid
were funny as hell
and the codes as well
cute and absurd
all those beetles and birds
but the cones got blown up
and the grown-ups
flew doughnuts
and the whole world went so nuts
and smoked the place overnight
as I watched from Andromeda
the dreadful phenomena
and couldn’t believe
the feed from my thermometer
but…
What can you say / when your love’s gone away / and the only thing left is a memory? / where do you go / when the love you used to know / has been burned up by nuclear weaponry?
(Somewhere an alarm starts to sound. THE ALIEN takes one sad look around, then hurries off)
a model spinosaurus
(the real thing was enormous
weighed 8 tons
and not much fun
to share an upstairs space with us)
stands by a pen pot
(a repurposed lobster can I got
that’s probably fake
but good to take
the scissors and pencils I use a lot)
waiting for its chance
as my words slowly advance
through the swamp
so it can chomp
on a swordfish or a coelacanth
jim clayton 