His palms sweated
H-y-p-e-r-h-i-d-r-o-s-i-s, he tweeted
“Doesn’t fucking fit on twitter” – in fact- lets twitter that!
Lets tweet about the moslems ,its been at least a day or two
Russia should be done by then…damn those billionaire oligarchs and their chess
Come to think of it – I hate chess.Ban it.its a foreign game anyway.I want only one piece that can do anything.what kind of pussy plays by rules anyway?
18 holes and me baby – those are my kind.
Marx put it best when he said “Trump – you’re my guy”
Funny guy that Marx,real funny
And he thought the commies would start with England
And what did he get – Russia.
I mean – look at me.
When you’ve had it all I gotta ask – why change?
I dont see anything wrong with making deals to win.
If Tilbury doesnt like it,they can have all the Brexit they like,they can put it on a cake and stick it up their butts.Do they think anyone cares?
Winners and losers baby
Soo funny that Karl
What was he thinking?
Revolution..the Proletariat….soooo funny.
Walking through the ravaged landscape he looks to skywards.
How brilliant blue can turn to black,
The disembodied birdsongs of life
An innocent speck of a butterfly’s wing tossed this way and that by the onslaught of aural tides now faint but still rumbling in the distance
And then in front, only earth,dust and metal
But he remembers home
He remembers the love of his father
And that lies on the path ahead.
So he turns away from the clouds
Even though he knows he can fly further if he wants
Isaac looked at his son’s face.
His watery gaze stinging the burns
And again the picture
He switched the virtual frame off and the scene switched back to the view from the twelfth floor of Icarus military base where he had returned.He looked out to the land he had lain to waste but couldn’t give him back his son.
He closed his eyes
He could still see blood
He could hear the screams
He could feel the pain
They were all his own
And the deafening noise only dissipated a little when he opened his eyes again
How he tore through the city skyscraper to skyscraper
Trampling the earth
Exhuming ash and bodies with each colossal step of the 4th gen military robot he controlled
He had brought hell to this land.
To silence it so he might hear his sons voice amongst the wreckage
When all along he knew he was gone
Buried somewhere within that man made labyrinth of concrete rubble
He could hear his son’s cries but he knew they weren’t real
And how he had fired that final missile at the heart of the enemy base
And watched it flower into a giant mushroom
Sending seeds far into the sky
Maybe one of those fiery shoots would light a path to his son
But that path was no longer one he could see.
“Now I am become death,the destroyer of worlds..”
The only words that he could hear in his head though all the din.
As so he deactivated the robot and laid it to rest amongst its own destruction , disembarking to make his way quietly back to base by vehicle
“This is amazing!”
The little boy squealed with excitement as he climbed up the ladder on the outer shell to get inside the robots main body unit.
Isaac looked up and felt the warm light glistening from the armoured plate of the robot.
“How can this thing be so deadly and yet make me so proud?” the father wondered.
“Look at me!” beamed Jake popping his head out from the central unit metres above
“That’s why” thought Isaac
He had worked hard to get the unit to development stage.
Away from his family…Aria
But all that would change soon.
She just didn’t realize till now what he had been working on.
When Jake gets home and tells her about it – then she’d see.Shed look into their son’s eyes and she’d know that he was doing this for them
She would finally get it
He climbed on board.
Jake was already positioning himself in the copilot seat ready for a make believe mission.
“Wait for the best best bit Jake.Youre gonna love this….!”
Jake looks around
He stood and felt the weight on his feet
Around this much carnage it seemed strange to him that he felt little pain
He looked at his arms and legs,
Some bruises and scuffs
But he felt strong
He needed to get back
Back home to…..
Just coundn’t remember.
But echoes still rung inside him.
Hollowed out and devoid of feeling
But still there
Reminding him of something horrible
His head ached
His thoughts were scrambled but faint images of something
Eyes looking at him…no…talking to him
His father’s voice talking to him
He headed for home
“Im leaving.Im done.”
“Im sorry about your loss, Isaac…I understand. But this war is over now.Go to Titan.Take Aria and maybe you can start your life again.This place is done with all of us and its taken something from each one of us.Dont let it destroy whats left of your life.Go home..”
Her body seized up for a moment.
The current leapt along her spine for one agonizing moment before she could relax and breathe again
“Its ok.It will pass”
She opened her eyes,for a moment disorientated.
Then the lights and exposure and self consciousness came back with a sting
And a tear.
All this fucking technology but nothing can anaesthetize you from the loss of an unborn child
Her mobile alerted
The doctor glanced sideways and then carried on with the scan.
She took a brief glimpse at it.
It wasn’t him.Just fucking work.
She didn’t know if she cared whether it had been him or not anyway.
He had clocked out on them since they had found out she couldnt have children.
Too much damage from combat and radiation ,they said. but good insurance…great pay out.All the IVF you can handle. “Shame about the fucking eggs” she thought
“Listen Aria…we still have one sample that we can implant but I cant promise you anything.You should think carefully if you really want to put yourself through this again.You need Isaac…
“Well hes not here is he?”
“….I just want you to be ok. Im worried about you. If this doesnt work out you will need him”
“I don’t need anyone.I just need you to make sure your next implantation works.Ok.Now do your fucking job!””
“And though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death,i will fear no evil for thou art with me..
He scanned the horizon
Few people cried,some laughed but most were silent
Sand swirls around him
Like mini typhoons left reeling in his wake.
Pixellated images seemed to focus transiently before becoming enmeshed in the haze again.
Smoke and fumes were the only reminder of life here
“Why” he thought “Why did you leave me to die?”
Driven only by his feelings, by questions.Carried on forward by that irresistible urge.Onwards
“When is he coming home?” asked Aria
“In a few days..just let him stay with me a bit longer”
“Youre in the middle of a war.Its not a fucking holiday”
“Yes but were in control.Im off duty.
I got a few days to get this project off the ground Aria .Once we unleash this thing Im as good as home, believe me
“You mean your killer robot?Congratulations” she quipped
“NO.For once just give me a break goddammit.This is the best thing for all of us.And whats more.These machines..they learn…We can teach them Aria…This is the first military combat unit that learns….It will pave the way for us to never have to send humans to battle again.Think about it Aria.dont you see…it changes everything!”
“Well nothings changed here.i want my son off that godforsaken pile of shit now Isaac.You can play with your toys as much as you like after that but Im not having him near those things I sent him to you because he needs to know that he actually has a fucking dad and not some video of you on a mobile.He came to see you …now you send him back!”
The intercom switched off.
Isaac stood staring at it.
“Damn that woman!”
He looked over into the overhead bay.There was a bridge connecting the lab to the central body unit of the robot..Jake was in the lab waving at him through the glass separation.
“How long have I been alive” he thought “surely I’ve been alive before I can remember”
“What was I then and why am I here now?”
This feeling Jake had-he knew somebody or something had put him there amongst so much devastation.
And yet when he looked up he knew he was part of this world.
A miracle had happened and he was alive amidst death.
Maybe he was God or Gods chosen.
But he glanced as a skylark flew above and he knew he wasn’t alone but part of something much bigger.
He met her on his secondment.He had big ideas and talked big.She loved that he believed what he said and knew she wanted to be with him.She needed him so she could believe those things too
But then war broke out and she was pregnant and he needed to prove something
The building came into view. He remembered it from his dreams. Although he couldn’t remember sleeping.
The journey back had been strewn with bodies, wreckage,armoured vehicles.
Uniformed soldiers saw him but said nothing.They seemed to know him but not care. They stood back when he approached. He saw their guns and their tanks and their robots and he remembered the screams. But he could still hear his fathers voice so he walked on.
His body tensed. He knew he was close.
He could see the Icarus base and the laboratories towering from behind.
This is where the devastation began.
He knew now what he had to do
And there he saw him. Out on the balcony looking out.
He couldn’t remember his face but he knew it was him. Their gaze fixed on each other. Isaac was standing on the edge of a platform.
“Jake?” he said,confused, “What are you doing here?”
The words matched the voice. It was him. But they weren’t warm. There was no love.
Jake pierced Isaac’s skull right through the centre.
Eyes fixed and looking back,glassy,sad.
Isaacs body slumped and fell limp and rolled off the edge and disappeared from view in the distance
Jake now looked up. The lab towered for kilometers into the sky.
He began climbing.
He needed to know if it was true.
Was he the reason for this misery and death everywhere?
Once he could see everything he might remember
From the top he looked out
The wind was stronger but the air was clearer.
No contamination by death and sulphur
It was quieter here.Peaceful.
He had always wanted to fly
Like his dad.
Now it was his turn
He stretched his arms and let his body go
No more rage.
He didn’t need to activate his wings.
He would let Earth call him back
No more fighting
He pivoted and hung in the air
The side of the building skimming by him ever faster.
He knew he could fly if he wanted
But he didn’t want to
He remembered his father’s voice.Those words uttered from his mouth when he was piloting him through his rampage
(‘This is for you Jake’ Issac had said from inside the control unit of the robot before razing the ground with fire)
Those words hung with him as he gently spun ,suspended in air, nestling into view of his own reflection against the fleeting shear glass surface of the skyscraper hurtling alongside him .He had never seem himself before
He didn’t recognise those mechanized titanium arms as his own, outstretched , missiles armed along those limbs,embedded with metal cables running from his axial core to his peripheries, wings still engaged,thrusters silent.the laser cannons implanted in his cranial control centre, like red eyes staring back lifelessly.
Still set to war mode from the murderous rampage he had just carried out before being abandoned by his pilot : Isaac,
Isaac,the father that wasnt his.That didnt need him anymore after he had served his purpose, abandoned amongst ruins ,defaulting to sentient mode and left only with the task of having to learn after being used to demolish half the city to avenge a dead son
He couldn’t cry of course only shed artillery
He was a military robot after all,
But he could take his life into his own hands once and once only before anyone could use him that way again
“Can we fly him daddy?”
Isaac disengaged the rocket boosters along the robots side arms before restoring the machine to terrestrial mode.
The huge wing like structures silently slid away from view.
“soon son…lets give him a name first”
The boy grinned…..”can we call him Jake?like me daddy!!”
“You got it..Say hello to your little big bro Jake”
Jake jumped into his dad’s arms
“How cool!I love it!!”
Isaac felt the warmth of his sons body.Even through the standard issue visitor uniform he could feel his son’s heart beating like a butterfly’s wings.It wasn’t about the robot.
He knew his son was just happy to be with his dad. He glanced over Jake’s shoulder and eyed the control panel.
The red light was still flashing on sentient mode.
He reached over and switched it off.
So what is mental illness?
When you suddenly discover the dual identity disorder is real and delve into a 20 page rant from a manic..or watch This Is It about Michael Jackson..and realise maybe people are just born a certain way.
Ok.Maybe not straight from the womb..but not far off.
Actually ,Who isn’t mad?…probably a wierdo
To be in an industry where you constantly need to reinvent yourself.”Here today,gone later today” is a phrase I heard the other day.
Now thats not a recipe for bipolar disorder is it?
Music and movies is something for the older generation anyway…the kids dont even know what we’re talking about anymore…other than the fact that we look as bewildered by present reality as our parents did by rave music.
But its so normal now that the concept of conservatism has been cornered into an extremely dubious backwater of Brexitville,something almost elevated to the mystical heights of eccentric nostalgia.
Now the madness is plain to see everywhere.You can look at footage of Michael Jackson and see the innocence of that age about TV and fame.
With social media the quest fro originality has become an end to itself.The desperation to stand out in order to mean something.
So there you go..why not the latest -ism in town…Islamosadomasochisticism—or something
Something to feed that voice –and the beard
So maybe originality is overrated?Certainly the uber cool element of it has only taken off since it became something that pays…and with that it has brought about its own demise as fast as its own rise….The post world war disinhibition has been short lasting cuz theres only so far you can go with reality until reality starts parodying itself.Money has a habit of bringing the end of something.
So you have self declared heroes on Youtube responding to that desperate need to eek something out of their lives because to be no one is now so much worse than death itself
Never before have so many people sought so desperately for immortality and had so many ways of getting it
From beyond the dunes
Of an icy star
Prostrate I lie,
Charred by the glare
That purges crimson rivers ,
To Rinse me in its fires
Consumed and unmade
To serve you once again
Breeze breathes past your silver threads
Warm whispers of silent sighs
Faint aroma of eggs and cheese and generic dairy deities
And the sight of a dusty ceiling fan
Shining its infinite jackhammer through your posterior communicating aneurysm
A wet trickle runs down your nose
Blood,sweat and Tears
All for a bit more life
Maybe it is a peoples revolution after all.
But it needed outsiders to spearhead it.
So gonna stick my neck out and say that Theresa May is probably about as outside as you can get while still having a chance thru Westminster channels of power.
For all the open criticisms of politicians for style over substance – along comes ” no nonsense” May (a label already tilted against her and reflecting the views of those doing the reporting i.e. the self serving political media class) and suddenly journalists are cogitating over her different “style” of leadership and the number of times I hear “no (bloody) nonsense” its as if they are hell bent on pouring cement onto this image before it has even fully formed – such is the obsession in media over speculation and its inevitable push into fact thru sheer overwhelming power of repetition.
Her diabetes is testament to the fact that she will not suffer fools gladly.She has not got time for idle frivolities and for some media luvvies who are actually surprised that she won given her lack of mates…well that may be the case but that,I daresay,could be the Tories’…and even Westministers saving grace – that it is precisely being outside the “club” that gives her a chance with the wider electorate.
Because- a set of politicians still dont seem to have fully understood-it is precisely the self perpetuating Westminster club mentality of propping each other up (or at least the perception of it) that is responsible for peoples appetite to cut their own noses to spite their face and stick two fingers at anything that resembles privileged power.
And putting Theresa May in power might be the closest Westminster can get to trying to acknowledge an “outsider” who is credible .
And Leadsom did seem prone to a few gaffes – and we’ve already had enough of those from the Brexit side anyway.
Anyone who shouts about needing to feel good about ourselves again …sounds to me like they are following orders from career marketing advisors – this increasingly shallow soundbiting reflex that gives away the newcomers.
You have to be old (or experienced) before you stop giving a shit about what everyone is telling you to say (thanks to Kenneth Clarke for suspiciously convenient slip up by Sky of off the cuff comments about Tory hopefuls’ competencies)
So if there were ever a time for a quiet outsider to silently shatter the glass facade from the inside – my money is on her.
Few years ago Boris was a Churchill imitating mock parody that managed to shine in the face of Ken Livingstone’s dour and parched Socialism.
Populism proved the winner and now having moved on ,he proves the rule that such creatures are immune from any prolonged condemnation.
Like the one who can get away with the cheekiest comment because by definition they have a manner that makes you think they dont mean it badly…but what it might also mean is that such characters dont really mean anything they say.
Thats why they get away with it surely?
hone it comes to elections though some bizarre central limit theorem of conglomerated consensus seems to back the “safe” guy…or the safe option?
So really we are just like the very big businesses and corporate banks that support the Remain status quo.
“Vote leave” is not the herald of a revolution if its conclusion does not change the leaders whether they be in Westminster of further away.
What it does do is leave a populist memory for the aftermath of when the Remain camp win proving after all the hype,the people are given the choice,they will choose the familiar.
We are already in the EU after all.
And there is something suspicious going on when the Vote Leave is comprised in large part of middle aged opinionated (and slightly self assured) men who have too much time to bang on about sovereignty, and immigration.
When the mascot is a chameleon who you can see will do well either way, so how can it not be calculated position, when an ex Broadsheet editor famous for punchy headlines,comes out with soundbite after soundbite, having left the office of London Mayor with very little actual sense of revolution.
No,he is precisely the stereotype of Churchill, a mascot British Bulldog who will fight another day because he stuck up for Britain against the establishment, so who better to represent the values of the British than the guy who fought hardest to keep Britain with its own terms?…will be the PR line…obviously.
So it is a win win of Boris and he really doesn’t have much to lose as he doesn’t know failure even when it hits him.
Because failure in politics is of course a self fulfilling prophecy determined only by the politicians own hunger.
Actually getting things done or not done has got nothing to do with it.
Its a hierarchical system of which all politicians are part that maintains its own survival and people just turn the cogs of different forces on the planet.
Forces that are barely tangible yet drivers of change on scales bigger than human lifespans.
The planet is a chinese doll with different forms of life and we just inhabit one physical layer between the more deterministic and primitive and the ephemeral life of “ideas” like Oligarchy and Social Justice,Anarchy and Despotic.
Tv pundits argue for their own sake of existence.
The public insist they need more facts.
The papers maintain the story
The politicians appease and then obfuscate and discombobulate because that is the mandate that the electorate understand.
Its really a mess and the older you get the more you might feel exhausted by the chaos and enlightened by the knowledge too of how remarkable it is that we create any illusion of stability at all when the drivers seem to be through appeasement to mass consumerism and fundamentally the realisation that someone made not too long ago that the peoples yearning for stability is so strong that they will happily exchange a piece of paper with a number on it as fair representation of the worth of something
Fundamentally the sheer weight of people carries an unknowing consensus almost God like and greater than the sum of its individual parts but I often find that when I am torn and divided over an issue then this is often reflected in a finely balanced ballot because if there is to be any truth at all then it should come from as many as possible of we who create such concepts as “truth” in the first place.
So truth ,like most human constructs designed to be approximations to some Platonic thing, is a self fulfilling anomaly that will be arrived on no clearer a manner than the same tortuous back and forth that happens in a single conscious mind.
And even on the largest scales, as a matter of proportion ,the determinant of referendum will be the weight given to the familiarity of Remain ,which will be enough to swing it but close enough to serve as reminder that this simply will not go away within one lifetime.
Because the idea of nationality is strong,and while it will ultimately be irrelevant we are just not built to look further than a few generations for the impact of such fleeing phenomena as “borders” and “countries”.
The world has reached a new normal when you find yourself being surprised by your own nostalgia.
When 20th century intolerance seems a ridiculously simple walk in the park compared to the self made entrepreneurial terrorists of today
Where left field hipsters and Archbishops alike show their progressiveness by out bearding the seditionists
When Iran is hailed as the way forward for international relations between East and West
Where Europe is the squeezed middle in Syria between a despotic and dysfunctionally megalomaniacal Russia and an Arab funded ISIS that is so self assured about its own twisted sanctity
When the only resistance that the real victims can express is by resisting the pressure to take sides.
The only relevance Europe can ever achieve is through how it chooses to handle the refugee crisis.
If Europe isn’t a place people actually want to come to how does it actually expect to survive?
In the New Normal numbers count more than ever
If Europe cant show that Enlightenment values actually mean something that should be able to transcend cultural and historical differences because it is about the common human spirit,then it has nothing to offer to the world at all and it becomes a dogma like any other whose time and relevance is truly numbered because unless you can export something you will cease to matter.
The refugee crisis could be a cultural victory that Europe could harness and galvanise but it may need the shedding of more prejudices and hypocrisy than it can realistically accept.
Weird times – this new normal
Musically Tangential Guerrillas with Wordprocessors