Pop Smellers and the Spine of the Earth - Part 4

“I woke up today and something was wrong.  I knew this from the moment that I opened my eyes.  Perhaps even before.  I think that ‘wrong’ is the wrong word to use, but what else could I say?  That it was incorrect?  Askew?  Different? 

Yes.  I woke up today and it was different.  I don’t know what was different, maybe me, maybe the room, or possibly my bed, perhaps even the entire world.  I couldn’t be sure though; it was too early in the day to leap to conclusions; at least not while I was still in bed.  I got up at this point, and that’s when it struck me; cold and hard, rather like a fish with a claw hammer…I realised that the world as I had previously perceived it was no longer valid, no longer solid…no longer real.  I had awoken and was no longer absorbed in this supposedly ‘real’ sphere; I could indulge no more in petty emotional or intellectual games; I could not even trick myself with the idea of the material world.  I could quite easily see my dressing table in the corner of the bedroom but it shone with an intensity that I had previously been unaware of, and yet in the same instant of seeing the full glory within this piece of wooden furniture, I was also able to see through its alleged ‘realness’ (though how a dressing table could allege its own existence, I could not grasp).”

The pit of my stomach had fallen like an elevator down a shaft.  My mouth was dry like a camels’ bum-hole.  I seemed to throb all over.  I finished my pint and hurried to the bar to get another drink.  I was shaking and disjointed.  I ordered a brandy, paid for it and returned to my table and continued to read. What the fuck was wrong with me?

“It was, in essence, the sum of our entire existence, yet it was all trickery and illusion.  For all these years I had been duped by an inanimate object.  The rage flared inside me.  I wanted to hurt the dresser, as it had hurt me.  I wanted to destroy it for humiliating me for so long; and I wasn’t even aware of it!  It made me sick.  It was typical of that kind of furniture, perceiving itself to be superior, with its fine varnish and wonderful burnished walnut grain.  The harsh, grinding humour of the dresser burrowed deep into my psyche.  It was just too degrading.

My anger was suddenly replaced by a profound sense of grief and sadness.  I began to weep.  It was just so unfair!  I had done nothing to deserve such torment.  Especially from a piece of mere carpentry.  Oh, the injustice of it all!  Then came the terror; a sweeping sensation that tore through the core of my very being; leaving my body empty and shaking.”

I knew where this cat was at.  I too had been mocked by furniture on several occasions.  It was one of the reasons why I avoided those furniture superstores that are always advertising on the telly.  I drank a deep draught of the brandy, feeling its warmth spread through my belly.  I looked around, noticing that the bar had become crowded, and that a noisy chatter filled the air, smoke wafted around me, and I realised that I hadn’t had a cigarette for some time. I drew one from the packet and rummaged about in my coat for a light. I found an old box of matches and struck one, inhaling deep and settling back into my chair. The brandy was doing its work and the cigarette was fine. I noticed it was dark outside and realised that I should be getting home to Audrey. My loins stirred instantly, and for a brief moment I was awash with pornographic images of myself and wifey. But I pushed them aside so that I might finish this extraordinary communication from Zagley. I read on. “Devoid of reason; I had been on the verge of destroying an innocent dresser, it had been a gift from my mother too. What was happening to me? It seemed as if I had no concept of anything – or rather; no thing – no ability to distinguish between good furniture and bad.

But it didn’t seem to matter because the way I felt was once again changing, the fear dropped away and was replaced by the most uplifting and invigorating feelings. They pulsed. They flowed. They cascaded through the very core of my being. I was totally joyous, I was enlightened, and this I deduced, was due to the sight that I beheld. It was the sight of my carpet.

Wondrous swirls and whorls of colour, all manner of hues, tones and- did my senses deceive me? Were there not tastes and flavours within my carpet? I could taste the beauty, I could see the many flavours that my carpet gave off. Rich reds merged with stunning blues, golds and silvers throbbed and spun, throwing up the most bizarre yet delicious flavours. Somehow it was all too much, too erotic, and I began to masturbate.

I was pulling on myself, touching, tugging, I was being swept upwards on an erotic carpet of colour that was beyond all description. I could feel my approaching orgasm; a tightening in my stomach and a surge from the very core of my being. My mouth was being stimulated by the vast array of tastes thrown off by the carpet, my eyes drunk from the constantly charging warp and weft. I was on the edge, the cliff top, the very moment before spilling my seed. But that all ceased immediately when I caught a movement from the corner of the room and realised that I was not alone.

I turned around and found myself face to face with the most insane looking thing that I had ever had the misfortune to lay eyes upon. Coupled with the fact that I still held my now rapidly wilting penis in my hand, it was not a good moment. In fact, I would go as far as to say the situation was very bad indeed. The creature before me was obviously human, or at the very least sub-human; it was hunched over and its hair was bedraggled, its eyes were wild black holes, staring into me. I was filled with a mixture of curiosity and revulsion. As I put my cock awkwardly back into my pants, I realised that oddly enough the monstrosity also had what I presumed to be its penis out and it too was attempting to stuff it away. It was at this point that it dawned on me that I had merely been observing myself in the full length mirror on my wardrobe door. Another piece of sly furniture behaviour, and to think that i had been curious yet revolted by myself! Oh! The degradation! The humiliation! It was too much. Why was this happening to me? But it was too late, I had already begun the descent into tortuous self-reflection, despite having no mind with which to process the analysis of ‘me’. No mind.

No mind! That was it! This was the reason for my strange sensations, the reason why I leapt from one feeling to the next without rest. I had no mind and therefore could no longer be real. I did not exist. It was all trickery and illusion. But how could I grasp not the concept of having no mind without actually having one? I didn’t want to think about that. I went out into the street in a vain attempt to be real. A bad mistake.”

I stopped reading for a moment. I too, was assailed by a strange sensation. My brandy was gone and I needed another drink but my legs felt like jelly. I braced myself and got to the bar without collapsing in a blubbery heap. I bought a pint of lager and managed the return journey to the table. Gulping half the pint down immediately, I paused briefly to light another cigarette with shaking hands. What the fuck was wrong with me? I looked at the stack of papers on the table. There were a couple of pages left before I’d finished this ‘letter’. I pushed on. “If nothing was real in my room, everything outside was even less real. If that’s possible. The pavement buckled and rippled like a grey ocean – I had to concentrate with all my will power just to stay upright – yet all around me people were going about their business as if nothing was wrong. The very sky was drawn to a single point as if it were a vast billowing sail suspended by an unseen hand, and all around me buildings towered upward, leaning at such obscene angles that I could not understand why they did not come crashing down upon me. And the noise! It whirred and hummed and shrieked like monstrous gears grinding together; crunching, static like. It was driving me insane.

Perhaps this was what had happened to me? I had awoken this morning and had become completely mad? Surely it was the only possible explanation? I was once again gripped by a dreadful sense of unease, the feelings of utmost terror overwhelmed me, coupled with the noise; I fell to me knees, covering my ears with my hands and shutting my eyes tight against the world, drifting into a black void that was once my mind.

Drifting backwards.

Back.

Blackness.

Silence.

Black.

Nothing.

Silence. The original state.

Indeed! That was a strange one. To perceive oneself as mad! What contradiction! What folly! But what now? To experience great joy? To suffer? But what? For what? For all is transitory. No thing is real for me for all is real to me. Just to see, just to be, for a day, a lifetime, to be someone else, something else.

Perhaps tomorrow I will be a clock. Or a hamburger.

Anything to break up the monotony of absolute divinity.

God, I hate being God.

It’s so boring.

And man thinks he’s got it bad...as the alleged ‘Supreme Being’, the one and only ultimate deity (HA!), I am alone. Who can I pray to? I get bored and that’s why I invented man.  A bit of amusement. I get to experience myself subjectively, see the world through the eyes of others.

But it always comes back to zero. Back here again.

You can only trick yourself for so long.

So here I am again.”

I sat back in the chair, everything in the pub seemed ultra-loud, ultra-garish. The music pounded and the people laughed but beneath it all I perceived a very deep fear and an even deeper sadness. I had to get out. I went home to Audrey.