Sunday, April 26, 2015

big bro

Remember, you're being watched.

Everything we say here is being picked up remotely by some fascist nerd in a shirt & tie.

If you live in or anywhere near the desert, the place I'm going to describe is close to you -- lots closer than you think.

This, I remember, happened at Spa, for it was   last year at Marienbad.

The name on the blue sign, "Honda Resort and Spa," might have been either Spanish or Japanese, and the decor of the place, 20th-century outer space, offered no clue. And where was the office, anyway? Twice around the building we drove, and finally parked on the west side, in an empty lot, and stared up at a three-storey wall pierced with dark windows. For reasons I don't understand, the unrestrained monotony of that pale green and extraordinarily flat and bland surface, glimpsed in rapidly disappearing twilight, gave the impression of  concealing indescribable rage and violence. One window in the top row was missing its glass; the unmistakable sheen of plastic was a tell-tale sign, of a human body either flung from that height, or jumping to escape the violence within, and sustaining mortal injury when it struck the broken pavement below.

Despite our feelings of dread, we continued searching, and at last came upon what appeared to be the front door of the place. After parking, we approached it and saw another human, a tall, slender, immaculately coiffed older American man talking earnestly on a cell phone. His conversation was
business jibberish, having to do with purchase orders, some canceled, and some still apparently valid.

We peered into the windows of what may have been the lobby. Chairs and other furniture were promiscuously heaped along the window wall, and the door was locked. At the far end of the long room an old man was shooting pool. He seemed to take the same shot, over and over, from the same position at the end of the table. He'd shoot, then stand up, walk toward the other end of the table, which was obscured by a partition, then reappear magically at the visible end of the table, which he leaned over and sighted and shot. It was like watching a videotape loop.

I stood there disoriented & dizzy. ""Seven four three six eight seven seven zero zero one eight nine," said the phone man. The old man shot.

& then the fear was on me. We were being watched.The tremendous evil that had been done in that place, and which was yet to be done, was settling all around us, piling up in thick layers. I quit rattling the locked door and said "Let's get outta here" as we hurried back to our vehicle.

Now it's a year later & I'm still trying 2 figure out what all that was all about. 

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