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A New Road

T H U R S D A Y , M a y 1 3 t h , 2 0 1 0

My first day at Lingster Drapper working with the Drapper Ads team. Pretty excited! Ads are my all-time favorite pastime, and I just know I’m due for big things here. Duck Drapper showed me around the office and explained that Lingster Drapper has a “flat management” style, meaning that nobody’s in charge of anybody.

And I’m the MOST not in charge of everybody,” he said, cocking a thumb at himself. “I fired everybody at the company once. I could fire you and not even break a sweat.

I laughed at this, then looked around and saw everybody else not laughing. I trailed off.

He really did fire everybody,” Peter Campsten said.

Then he bought a horse,” George Holdeneer added.

Duck laughed warmly at these memories as he fed sugar cubes to his horse. “This is your desk,” he added. He didn’t point anywhere or look at anything besides the horse.

The horse is my desk,” I said for clarification. Duck looked at me like I was some kind of idiot, then pointed to a tiny desk under the horse.

All in a all, a big first day. Pretty sure I’ll fit in fine around here. Duck’s already given me a nickname: Big Face. Wasn’t sure what that meant. Duck explained that I had a big face, in his estimation.

Also, note to self: buy a hat. I seem to be the only person not wearing one.

.

Vrede

Today, May 4th is Remembrance of the Dead here in the Netherlands.

Vrede

 Komt een duif van honderd pond, 
 een olijfboom in zijn klauwen, 
 bij mijn oren met zijn mond 
 vol van koren zoete vrouwen, 
 vol van kirrende verhalen 
 hoe de oorlog is verdwenen 
 en herhaalt ze honderd malen: 
 alle malen zal ik wenen. 
 Sinds ik mij zo onverwacht 
 in een taxi had gestort 
 dat ik in de nacht een gat 
 naliet dat steeds groter wordt, 
 sinds mijn zacht betraande schat, 
 droogte blozend van ellende 
 staan bleef, zo bleef stilstaan dat 
 keisteen ketste in haar lenden, 
 ben ik te dicht en droog van vel 
 om uit te zweten in gebeden, 
 kreukels knijpend evenwel, 
 en ‘vrede’ knarsend, ‘vrede, vrede. 
 Liefde is een stinkend wonder 
 van onthoofde wulpsigheden 
 als ik voort moet leven zonder 
 vrede, godverdomme, vrede; 
 want het scheurende geluid 
 waar ik van mijn lief mee scheidde 
 schrikt mij nu het bed nog uit 
 waar wij soms in dromen beiden 
 dat de oorlog van weleer 
 wederkeert op vilte voeten, 
 dat we, eigenlijk al niet meer 
 kunnend alles, toch weer moeten 
 liggen rennen en daarnaast 
 gillen in elkanders oren, 
 zo wanhopig dat wij haast 
 dromen ons te kunnen horen. 
 Mag ik niet vloeken als het vuur 
 van een stad, sinds lang herbouwd, 
 voortrolt uit een kamermuur, 
 rondlaait en mij wakker houdt? 
 Doch het versgebraden kind, 
 vuurwerk wordend, is het niet 
 wat ik vreselijk, vreselijk vind: 
 het is de eeuw dat niets geschiedt, 
 nadat eensklaps, midden door een huis, 
 een toren is komen te staan van vuil, 
 lang vergeten keldermodder, 
 snel onbruikbaar wordend huisraad, 
 bloedrode vlammen en vlammend 
 rood bloed, de lucht eromheen behangen 
 met levende delen van dode doch 
 aardige mensen, de eeuwlange stilte voor- 
 dat het verbaasde kind in deze zuil 
 gewurgd wordt en reeds de armpjes opheft. 
 Kom vanavond met verhalen 
 hoe de oorlog is verdwenen, 
 en herhaal ze honderd malen: 
 alle malen zal ik wenen. 

Uit:  Uit Slaapwandelen,  Leo Vroman

Remembrance of the Dead

Address Unknown Part 6

The mind-bending finale in our Return to Sender-Marathon. The last episode
of Address Unknown... ever.



John: The poet Pool, in his poem “Somebody's been wearing my face again”
wrote “In this hall of mirrors/Built by liars, I am a pale reflection of
myself.”

I had escaped from the Pink Bird Mental Institute. I was lost in Noir York
City. I couldn't find my way back home. John Mirra had made me a killer.

[Phone rings]

John: I had become him, John Mirra, maybe I had always been him.

[He picks up the phone]

John Mirra: John Mirra?

John: Yes. This is he.

John Mirra: This is John Mirra. Welcome to the next level.

John: [Gasping, frightened] Ahh..! ahh ah!!



The mind-bending finale in our Return to Sender-Marathon. The last episode of Address Unknown... ever.





John: The poet Pool, in his poem “Somebody's been wearing my face again”
wrote “In this hall of mirrors/Built by liars, I am a pale reflection of
myself.”

I had escaped from the Pink Bird Mental Institute. I was lost in Noir York City. I
couldn't find my way back home. John Mirra had made me a killer.

[Phone rings]

John: I had become him, John Mirra, maybe I had always been him.

[He picks up the phone]

John Mirra: John Mirra?

John: Yes. This is he.

John Mirra: This is John Mirra. Welcome to the next level.

John: [Gasping, frightened]
Ahh..! ahh ah!!

Address Unknown Part 5

Address Unknown continues.



[John breathing heavily]



Doctor: You have a tumour in your brain. It's making you mad. We're forced 
to operate... [Whir of drill] aggressively.



John: The fake doctors were trying to confuse me, saying I was John Mirra, 
pumping me full of drugs.



[He steals the drill from the doctor]




Doctor 1: No, no, none of that! Give it back! He's loose! He has the drill! 
Restrain him! No! No! Ahh! [Sound of drill being used]



Doctor 2: All right now! Easy... Easy, just hand it over, there's a good 
boy! [Whir of drill] Hey! Stay back! No! Aghh! [Sound of drill being used, 
screaming]



John: I was in charge, but still woozy from the drugs. I had to escape. I 
couldn't let them stop me.



Patient: Death is coming! It's coming! He's coming! Get away! Get away! 
Aghh! [Sound of drill being used, screaming]




Other patient: The flesh! The flesh! Aghh! [Sound of drill being used, 
screaming]

Address Unknown Part 4

John: Mirra's men had caught me. Their black van took me out of the city. 
The countryside was sickeningly pretty: The sun setting on a sweet summer 
day, rain sparkling on grass, birds in the trees, children playing. The 
Pink Bird Mental Institute. [Panicked breathing] Mirra's men pretended to 
be hospital wardens.

Patient: The flesh. The flesh. I think I died. I think I'm dead. I don't 
know. I don't know. Death is coming. It's coming. They're here. They're here. 
Get away. Get away. I'm gonna hurt you. I'm gonna hurt you.

John: They said I was an escaped mental patient.



Doctor: Diagnosis: Paranoid Schizophrenic. You are insane, psychotic. You 
have to eat plenty of pills to get better.

John: They lied that I had killed my girlfriend. John Mirra came to mock 
me in the bathroom mirror.

John Mirra: [Evil laugh]

John: The flamingo was with him.



Flamingo: .mirrorS arE morE fuN thaN televisioN

John: Mirra claimed my girlfriend had turned evil, joined him.

Flamingo: .shE haS dieD . . . heR haiR reD

[Frustrated scream]

John: I smashed the mirror. I'd kill them all.



 Stay tuned as 'Address Unknown' continues.

Address Unknown Part 3

Address Unknown continues. 

John: Wherever I went, the pay phones started to ring. Finally, I collected
enough courage to answer one.

Girlfriend: John? You must run. He is coming for you. They are closing in.
John, I love you. Don't give up. [She hangs up]

[John hangs up]

John: I wasn't going to give up on her. I could hear her voice in my head
wherever I went, guiding me. I traced my double to a classy uptown
nightclub 'Pink Flamingo'. It was happy hour, they were serving Flamingo
cocktails. Somehow the Flamingo was tied to my double. A stripper in the bar
looked just like my girlfriend. Mirra's men had found me. I ran.




Doctor: Stop him! There he goes! Stop him! You can't escape! We're coming
to take you away! You have nowhere to run!

John: Mirra was an influential figure in Noir York. His men chased me. They
wore white uniforms. They looked so clean. They chased me in black vans with
the logo of the Flamingo on them. I ran.

Address Unknown Part 2

Welcome back to our Return To Sender-Marathon, two days and two nights of
the 90's cult series, "Address Unknown", all the episodes in a row, a real descent
into madness.
page-break

John: [Breathing heavily] I was lost in the streets of Noir York. The city
had swallowed Mirra and my girlfriend. I was part of some elaborate game,
complex for it's own sake.
[Laughter]
John: Every time I looked over my shoulder, I saw a shadow disappearing
behind the corner, or the glint of binoculars in a window. They were spying
on me, following my every move. When Mirra killed again, the map of the city
changed.
[Gunshot]
[Long woman's scream]
addressunknown2
John: Like a shifting glacier, a new crack appeared with every gunshot. I
had abandoned all conventional methods of navigation. I was following the
bloody signs he kept leaving me, and he was watching me do it.
page-break
The next episode of "Address Unknown", right after the break in our Return To Sender-Marathon.

Address Unknown Part 1

addressunknown1

John: I was trapped in a nightmare. My evil double had taken my  girlfriend.
Following him, I had somehow slipped into a twisted alternate reality,  
Noir York City. My double was John Mirra. He was the devil incarnate, a  
fallen angel.
Flamingo:.thE flesH oF falleN angelS
John: He was a serial killer. He had framed me for his murders.
I was hiding in a cheap motel. One night, I woke to a knock at the door.  
Someone slipped a note under the door. It was a clue. I descended into a 
mystery, desperate to catch him, to find my girlfriend, to save her. A  
labyrinth of my double's making, from one grisly murder scene to the next.

Quick Update

There I was just checking out some www.sirfuture.com statistics and realized most my hits relate to blog post-entries.

EVIDENCE A.

March 2010 Statistics

As you can see, the sites traffic was greatly improved during the Consul/Humanity Blog Story Series back last week.

Looking towards the future (represented on evidence A as a question mark), we need to make a change and revert the on-going traffic drought. In other words, time for coffee. In even other words . . . A new mini-blog-story series coming up. Actually episode one will be up shortly after this post is done.

Yes yes, you don’t need to tell me to stop this entry and show part 1 of the mini series – I’ll stop when I’m done writing!!

(now)

Finality

Tonight I look down on the uprising rebels crowding around the streets and feel a dark, bitter repulsion. I neglect their comfort, their vibrancy, their… life. The Citadel remains silent.

There is not a more certain cure for aversion than anger. And I am filled with enough of that to bring the world to a smouldering halt. That people will accept death and despair as part of life — as fate — is beyond my comprehension. I find myself wanting to shout into their ignorant faces, to shake them out of their complacency. Surely they are insane. This world, and every living thing in it, must be insane.

There is no alternative; enforced labour is the only option to create our new collaborated world and have it be completed within my lifetime. Sometimes conventional notions of morality must be subverted, suspended, no matter how difficult that may be. Morality is a fine thing… but taken to its logical extreme, it can hold us back from true greatness. Each month it becomes harder to imagine a return to mundane duties. The Citadel whispers to me, somehow familiar and comforting. As I lay my hand upon the walls that are only now beginning to take shape, I can almost feel the heartbeat of those that came before us. Tonight the peace is being interrupted by a minor uprising. I have no choice but to deal with them harshly. I do not begrudge the men that stand against me and our Benefactors; for they simply do not understand. They will learn in time.

Within this facility the technology of our benefactors increases exponentially, and today – –

It seems the previously mentioned disturbance has escalated beyond our initial expectations, but I can guarantee it is nothing we cannot handle.  In fact, if you have relatives pushing forward to their own demise, I suggest you call them back to safety – we will find a proper way to forgive those who make the right choices at the right times. Those unaware and incapable of making the right judgement shall be taken in and dealt with by our personal standards of punishment. Of course we cannot take crimes versus the one right motion for humanity lightly.

There has never been a valid need for sides to appear and scrape against each others ideals – these were simply constructed by the ignorance and stubbornness of your –-What is the meaning of this? No.. No you cannot — Guards! Get in here! You will be destroyed in every way possible, and even some essentially impossible.

I warned you this was futile! You do not know what you will unleash, you could bring the entire Citadel down. Think, man, think of the people below!

NO! You need me!

– – A B R U P T   E N D I N G   O F   T R A N S M I S S I O N  – –

poster
DR>J.W.P.B. [L. SW] Pos. O57 URB-LOC 0022