Dreamland Express, all aboard.

You put your head down on the pillow and nod off to slumberland, where all notions hail from fluffy contexts, leaving the black and white world behind. ENTER into a kaleidoscopic rainbow awash in new colours and old shapes, spiral spiral, until you forgot where you just were. Now you run.

This was a typical dream in Eevee’s life, who had her fair share of hard knocks. A Sydney girl, she kidnapped a boy from home to leave for Europe with it, where she settled in at a pub working as a pushover, waiting tables nightly, trying for the ransom daily. The boy was her neighbour and inside this dream he was a big green meanie, chasing Ee across the floating rocks spasming with square waves and filtering out bad juju.

“C’mon, it’ll be OK,” the meanie said. “Like it’s another Tuesday and I got a kettle on for ya.”

But Ee just kept on running across imagination, never looking sideways, just ahead at the sun’s face, which looked like Shaq chewing a pineapple while looking at Ee’s friend Smith, a silly lad in overalls who was dreaming about buying electronics from Hawaiian Shirt Bill Murray, workin’ a beach shack down in Manly. He was rude that day to Bill Murray, so Ee yelled “You stupid idiot, come here,” as she jumped across dreams. But as Smith turned up to look above him, he didn’t see anyone up in the sky, nor would he, only birds and Cadillacs up there.

In the next dream, the meanie was gone and Ee was all alone in a vast space of burping sponges. As she looked around, there was a small cat-o-dile peering at her from above the nightmare foam permeating the Below. “Someone pinch me, I think I’m done,” she said. But she’s not anywhere near done, not until she makes it to the rapid drop fall off the bottom of the faraway hanging cliff. Dreams tend to go like that, she thought. They never end, they just keep going on with or without you. Aye.

Oz

Preserve the balance

I came across these quotes today from Hayao Miyazaki and they were too good to pass by:

“Success?I do believe in the power of story. I believe that stories have an important role to play in the formation of human beings, that they can stimulate, amaze and inspire their listeners.”

“Many of my movies have strong female leads- brave, self-sufficient girls that don’t think twice about fighting for what they believe with all their heart. They’ll need a friend, or a supporter, but never a savior. Any woman is just as capable of being a hero as any man.”

“You must see with eyes unclouded by hate. See the good in that which is evil, and the evil in that which is good. Pledge yourself to neither side, but vow instead to preserve the balance that exists between the two.”

Hayao Miyazaki

The Cyberpunk Collection

When you’re locked down, the perfect late night genre to find solace in is Science Fiction’s dazzling young son, Cyberpunk.

In it, you will find dystopic futures where cybernetic, mutagenic, nightmarish low-lifes with high-tech fantasies are enthralled in the oncoming breakdown of a city’s social order.

The heroes are either cops or crims and usually possess or are in search of the key to unknowingly unlocking a more dangerous and promising chapter for the world around them.

Cyberpunk can be Film Noir with technology (Tech Noir), a police procedral with cyberised mecha or a crime drama with pretty much everything sci-fi.

To help you dive into the cyberpunk experience, I present to you this list:

Continue reading “The Cyberpunk Collection”

Escaping Reality

The best thing to do sometimes is shut off from the world and just lose yourself in the worlds found in science fiction books. It’s the one place where things make more sense than all the made-by-committee dribble you now find on streaming services, the net or social media – which together form the triumvirate evolution of the idiot box – palatably made to keep you placid and flaccid.

There’s even more of a reality escape in the worlds of indie comics, which have been fighting the system for generations – offering black-n-white, no-frills action, drama, romance and brain frying concepts that weave wickedly divine stories about everything you want there to be. They make more abstract sense now than they ever did.

404 No One Is Listening

Apache/12.4.20 (Gibson) Server at http://www.self-isolation.net Port 85: netcasting into the digital grey yonder where carbon meets plastic. Society is losing face with the industries supposedly keeping shit together, the dregs are onto the Org’s scheme, as cracks form in the mis-information supply-chain and the capitalisation of the sick. The pandemic virus wastes the streets, keeping jobless norms imprisoned in their dusty hovels that are still being siphoned by the banks, forcing these shmucks to peck at their inheritances or use up their super funds, as the elite laugh from inside their gated residences and the little guys get the finger. The fat cats need to be shown and the alarms need to sound. Spread the word not the virus.

Detention Life Cycle

Isolation Day plus 15 or more and hardly counting, I’ve lost track of how many days, weeks, months, lifetimes I’ve been imprisoned within the walls of this enclosing apartment, the stagnant air, the constant screen glare, the caution over the outside world – they’re out there, man! And they want in! There’s no stopping the little freaks except with a gas mask and a couple sticks of TNT, dynomite from hell. The gloves are skin tight, and I’m getting used to them, man, I am I think, even the smell. The others you see outside eyeball you, questioning if you’re one of them or under the microscope; hell, we’re all asking those questions in both orders. That’s what this station lifestyle has given us, paranoia and missing toilet paper. Oh shit, I see one coming now, no, stay back, stay baaaaaack…!