The peculiar episode with the blue phalli was of course put down to a reaction to the expensive red wine she had been drinking, and the fact that she had drunk far too much of it. Although at the time it had felt that there was an intense meaning to it, a big answer of some kind, it soon started to fade. She briefly mentioned it to Louise and Jackie, neither had experienced anything peculiar about the wine that night so it must have been a personal allergy or something.
Two weeks later Elsie was at work in the office. Douglas was being charming but insane again, telling a bunch of potential business funders that it wasn’t just him that believed the riff raff, or Twilighters as he called them, should be killed for the better good of the planet, it was becoming more common amoung the “respectable” classes. He said it with a grin on his face, and the business men chuckled along with him. Elsie wondered if underneath this jovial charade there was a serious malicious truth. She was considering turning round from her desk to confront them on this, instead she smelt the strong smell of burning rubber and the scruffy falling apart cardboard box next to her desk became God. It spoke to her in words she could not understand. Her mouth filled with saliva and with a groan her head sunk down onto the desk.
She was sent home early from work that day. The next morning she saw her doctor. Stress was the diagnosis, and she was given a couple of weeks off work. Elsie was beginning to get frightened. She had been through far more stressful things in the past and she hadn’t seen God in the office. She found these episodes, this loss of control, loss of her mind, terrifying. Like reality being torn apart. She was an intelligent, well educated woman with a good job she felt secure in, but now this seemed to create a huge hole beneath her feet, an unknown. Almost as if she could no longer trust her own senses, and when you can’t trust your own senses what can you trust? She needed something to cling on to. Abel had gone, what was there to help her feel secure? And so she turned to me.
Elsie was very drunk indeed by the time they left the club. Somehow she got herself on the tube and onto the Piccadilly line. Her brain was fizzing but she could not think on anything for more than a minute. The train was quiet. She snoozed for the first two stops to Green Park. At Green Park three women got on and sat opposite her, they were chatting in an excited manner, they’d been to see a film together. Elsie ignored them at first, shut her eyes and started to snooze again. Then she woke up with a start, a peculiar heat and excitement consumed her body, a tension took hold of her that made her grab her seat tight. Her mind was racing, thoughts going through it so fast she couldn’t catch them. Then an unearthly growling sound forced her eyes wide open and focused them on the three women opposite her, only now they weren’t three women. Three large blue shinny phalli sat opposite her now, they looked plastic but weren’t, they were alive. They oozed liquid as conversation, what’s more they knew her and knew her well.
Elsie attempted to cling on to some rational thoughts, something that would turn them back into chattering women, but her thoughts were obsolete at this moment, mere ripples on a huge ocean of terror.
She passed out.
This is part of the Spletzer Martin 5 story, all episodes to be found:
This is my first blog in bloody ages. Why return to blogging now, after a good few years? The washing of underwear perhaps. Because I use this space as a kind of pit for the entangled, obsessive and confused me that gets all tightly twisted inside and needs somewhere to get out that doesn’t involve cruelty to humans.
So, I’ll start with new years resolutions as it is a new year and it seems like a good start.
Bowie, I loved you, but I must grow up.
Stop getting obsessive about people, it is crazy, I have done it since I was 6 years old and fancied Richard Johnson in school. I must stop now! I have even stalked people a little, which is very bad. I’ve written about my first stalking on here Part 1. A Bit of Old Fashioned Stalking, if your interested, like I said its dirty underwear.
Find some security of my own. A part time job teaching evening classes and doing the occasional illustration commission just isn’t enough. It leaves me too dependent on others financially and emotionally. I realized earlier this year that it is crazy for my future to lie solely on someone else, for them to be somehow held responsible for me finding somewhere nice to live etc. Just plain silly. I enjoy illustrating, I must make a career out of it, and with the added teaching it should be a good career, shouldn’t it?
STOP MOANING AND DO
STOP TRAINING AND DO
Get the book done. I’m writing/drawing a book about drawing trees and woodland, it will be very beautiful.
Grow up, but know that there is magic, you wont loose it just because you are a grown up.