Thursday, March 30, 2006

Simian Rage

Monkeys. A monkey can put on a face of almost unbearable cuteness as it snatches your last banana from your knapsack, leaving you to starve to death in the humid jungle. A monkey can point you out to the nearest poisonous snake, screetch with laughter as the snake sinks its fangs into your naked flesh, then tell you it was only a joke and wasn't it terribly funny really as you lie expiring in a pile of rotten leaves and shit.
I know this because both my lover and I are monkeys. (Among other things.) Monkeys are the most evil creatures in the galaxy, but always get off scott-free, because it was all just such a big jive, only kidding, don't take things so seriously, or else you are a truly boring individual with no brains at all to speak of.

BUT. Tables turned, and simian rage is a truly terrible sight to behold. Although often short-lived, this rage can leave a whirlwind of destruction that is almost as harmful as the monkey's jokes.
I know this because my lover is forever playing silly tricks on me and I am forever getting turning livid with indignation, a storm of fury most often directed inwards. I'm less of the tricks kind of monkey and more of the curious kind, so I don't incite his rage as much. Other things and creatures do though, and then WATCHOUT! Kabaam! Pow! Sperloosh! Tu est fini.

The funnyest joke my darling ever played on me AND himself (completely "unintentional" of course, was to take a small seed of his own, crystalise it, and hide it behind a church in an unmarked suitcase. Unbeknownst to anyone, the seed took root and sprouted. While I was making my love known to my lover, the seed was growing in the dark warmth of the inverted universe. When I first made love to my lover, the seed was busy growing gills, a tale, dolphin fingers and luminous eyes. When took the job piloting his ship, a promotion from secretary, the seed was born forth on the tide and became into the world.

Years later, as I was contentedly watching a homosexual porno movie with our homophobic butler, my lover burst into the room.
"I have a responsibility, but I'm not responsible!" he cried
I was stunned from placid silence into mullet-like silence.
I became sad, I became angry, I became guilty because I was not entitled to have feelings, after all, it was nothing to do with me.
The responsive seed had been swimming, typing, and breathing underwater for four years, he said.

I was rage. I was rage in the monkey sense and the female sense and the universal sense. I was rage in the most un-sensible and insensible sense.

And the seed was a monkey.

Sunday, March 26, 2006

Fat Pigs Fish

Today I read in the news that 'scientists' have created a new type of pig which grows fish oil in itself. Namely omega-3 fatty acids, which humans apparently should eat for the good of their hearts. Now, dont get me wrong, I'm all for a bit of sped up evolution. I myself have experienced the benefits (and pitfalls) of a geneticaly enhanced body. As such I'm a big fan of the X-Men. But these are all naturally occuring variations. I mean, the X-Men and I have experienced naturally occuring 'mutations' in response to our respective environments. Pigs dont even eat fish normally, unless its a stinking old scrap thats been fossilised in an alcoholic's compost.
Also, all this taking of the vitamins or fats out of a particular food seems to me likely to make that vitamin or fat not really do it's job anymore. Scientists are smart people, but they dont seem to realise that food has mysterious qualities that perhaps they will never quite grasp. For example, peanuts are enourmously fatty, and yet they have been found to have a mysterious weight-loss quality built into their very make up.
Where is the sense in a fish-pig?
I just dont think this is going to work out.

Saturday, March 25, 2006

Robert's Zimmer frame

Bob Dylan's pretty old now I guess.
Why aren't there any great musicians anymore?
There must be some.
Where are they?

Friday, March 24, 2006

A Little Too Much Love

When I found my current lover, I noticed that he also, was a hybrid of many parts. Of course he didnt notice at first that I was of his caliber, due to my vluminous outfits, which hid all of my various attributes.
When he did notice, it was all guns blazing, parties til dawn, oh yes we had a grand old time.
My lover, being as he is in his current incarnation as a space monkey, is not big on subtleties. Having eaten one banana, he will go on to eat the whole bunch, and everyone else's bunches, and also by that stage anything that may taste in any way banana-ey. He then becomes an altogether different individual to the one he was before. He has a great weakness for beautiful women, especially when under the banana influence. He will bat his eyelashes at all types of different animals, including sometimes single-celled organisms. Then he will try to overcome them with jokes. The single celled organisms dont get it, but they still know in some way that he wields great power.

Lake of sire

Today I went to swim in the communal lake in our village. When I arrived there and examined the bathing pools I noticed that they were covered in a thick film of orange slime and pubic hair. I whipped my pistol from my knickers. 'Pistol' in this sense refers to the industrial strength cleaning products that I keep concealed secretly in a secret concealed compartment of my outfit.
"Guaaaaaaaaaaaurgh! Your days are numbered!" I exclaimed to the slime as it tried to slip out of my deadly line of fire. The slime whined in ginger distress as I attempted to vanquish it with my gun. It was then that I noticed the smell. The smell of roast lamb flavoured chips in distress. The smell of many tissues in the bedroom garbage of a man with only a dog for company. The smell of an old cheese sausage.
It was come. Old caked-on come mixed with pubic hair that I was attempting to read the last rites to in my cleaning fury. I stopped. My heart beat for a moment. I felt empathy. Empathy for all the unborn half-babies that were desperately clinging to the beardy surfaces of the rocks.
"Never fear!" I shouted, "I shall save you!" and I whipped forth my silk lined cotton tissues. Gently, gently I removed the pubic babies from their womb of rock. As they slid onto the silk of the tissues I immediately water-slided them into a waiting glass canister.
To cut a long story short, my empathy soon ran out, and I crushed the babies into a paste. This paste I soon applied to my entire body thinking to emulate Jennifer Lopez. It made my skin as soft as never-born babies, and "hallelujah!" I cried.
My beauty was enhanced as never before. I was crying tears of joy and of conjuctivitis.
In the end I was so beautious that I had to get drunk for free at the local teachers' training institute. They told me off for being so drunk, but I showed them up by becoming 20 times more drunk in the next five minutes, and they shut their blasphemous mouths.

Wednesday, March 22, 2006

Non-event horizon

Well, I keep on saying that we'll all be downloaded onto computers soon, so I spose I'd better reserve a space for myself while the going's good. I've come along a little late in the goldrush, but thats what you get for being a woman with nothing much on her mind, and too many hooped skirts dragging her down rather than high-tech nano- spacepants. (I spose being nano they'd be the tiny-est pants in the galaxy.)
My name is Face and I'm a hybrid of many things. In my younger days I spent months at a stretch swimming in the ocean, and developed scaley skin, gills and paddle-like hands. I climbed trees and grew a ringed tail for swinging. I trained my vision on far away objects at night and grew large saucer like eyes, and a moon face to match. In those days I could change my form at will to match my surroundings, but as I grew older I learned to hide the ever present physical manifestations of my hybridity under voluminous outfits. The constrictive corsets and hanging drapery of these prevented me from carrying out so many high falooting adventures, and slowly my form cemented itself. These days it has become much more difficult to metamorphosise, Although if the occaision warrants I can still adapt, although with much more effort.
Currently I am suffering from a malaise of all my various parts, a different kind of illness to match each of my hybridities. I am miserable, but know that soon all will again reach that boring plateau of medium-ness. I look forward to that day, non-plussed.