{THE PILL BOX } spacer
powered by blogger



Has this ever happened to you?

So you're in like a deep deep DEEP sleep {you're dreaming, in fact, about, well, you remember the original TV series version of Batman? Remember Catwoman in it? Well - ... well uh no, better not get into that, here}, anyhow, you've been having trouble sleeping the past coupla nights and last night into the bargain you had this new proof copy of a GREAT book by J. Hoberman* about U.S. cinema of the 60s/70s and its relation to politics and paranoia and you were naturally looking up all the bits about The Parallax View and Shampoo and what have you so it must have been gone, like, half three minimum before you gave in and even then you had recourse to half a 20mm temazepam, so when somebody starts knocking on your front door at, like, 8:33 am, you're still raining still dreaming BUT, like the practised PRO you are you are straight up and into yer cut-off denim shorts and PRO Zombie Steps One Two Three down to open the door 'cos it's a fairly regular occurrence this it's only the postman / there's no need to be alarmed so even tho you are 75% near literally STILL ASLEEP this is a practised drill for you ...
... and sure enough, crack door open: "Parcel for you ..."

... but hang on this guy ain't my burly Postman he's some barely started shaving kid in a creepy shit brown uniform but a {I assume} parcel of CDs is a parcel of CDs and so, like I say, "Parcel for you..." and I reach out my paw to... BUT THEN he sez "...and there's £17.87 to pay" - and I say WHAAAA? oh no - 's been some mistake here ... I get stuff ALL THE TIME {sometimes its LESTER BANGS books, sometimes it's pink JENNIFER ELLISON CD-45s but like the old skool sez these - are - the breaks ...} - so you've got to remember I'm a) deeply chemically asleep still, here and b) head scratchingly perplexed becoz this is literally the first time this has ever happened {and I've been sent big framed prints from Arizona, hampers from Escosse, strange Japanese takes on Kid Creole in odd lil' handmade wooden CD boxes and I have never but NEVER been asked to pay so much as a penny on any of 'em} ... and I mean, I don't know about you and your life, but I am not the kind of dawg HAS £17.87 lyin' around at 8.33 in the am for C.O.D. purposes, don't ever had no NEED to, like I say, but not for any purposes, comes down to it, becoz I am the kind of dawg who is generally and deeply and permanently CASH POOR, like, does this LOOK like Kensington to you, Brown Uniform Boy?, who is starting to make with a Major Attitude now which you do NOT do with me before I've had cup of coffee ONE I am here to tell you {closer friends will testify under oath that I am not the kind of dawg you say or offer even PLEASANT or loving things to before I've had cup of coffee ONE} and his Major Attitude is like, c'mon, this is business as usual what's the big deal here, dude {altho of course the SUBtext might well be: 'What's the COSMIC deal here that I got to get to be runnin around in this here SHIT awful brown unifrom makes me look like one of the Bad Guys outta Farenheit 451 wasting my young life away while some Obvious druggy no-count Slob like you gets to lie around dreaming 'bout Catwoman all hours the sunny morn, HAH} and all I do is reach out to check out the smallprint of this here cuboid package {it's not a BIG package, about the size of 4 or 5 CDs stacked end to end or s/t} which you should always do, kids, and he FREAKS, Brown Uniform Boy, pulls them away from me in a cartoon speeedy blur, like EITHER he takes me for the sorta council estate SCUM is gonna grab the package and slam the door in his tut-tut face OR {and this is where my paranoia kicks in, oh yes, the Super Ego works 24/7, awake and vigilant and PARANOID all hours, no days off} OR he doesn't want me to see the smallprint - Ah HA! - becoz this is a SCAM they pull like you see on those populist-investigation BBC progs at 7.00 in the pm, they deliberately call when they know you'll be half or fully asleep and fending off hungry cats and get you to pay this loopy charge which is either non existent or an irregularity should have been payed the other end, but Brown Boy's 'tude is increasing by the sleepy heartbeat and he actually chooses this moment to heave a heavy SIGH like, c'mon MORON, this isn't rocket science and the people I usually deal with would have just given me the £17.87 by now so I could be on my shitbrown skinny assed way by now ... SOME of us got WORK to do paw boy ...

... and so the combination of his majorly officious attitude {it's true what They say: give a guy a UNIFORM, any uniform ... and he turns into the sorta blank faced clerk eyed fascisti who turned Walter Benjamin back at borders or made him discard his manuscripts on a technicality ...} and the out of the blue irregularity of this and the fact that I KNOW for sure that one more heavy SIGH from Virgin Face here and he'll have a tyre iron where the girls don't go ... I just wave him away and he splutters "Shall I come back tomorrow then?" and I'm, like, You can come back any time you like but that £17.87 has got to make its way down into these tar coated lungs and into these cute little cats bellies and into the nutrient poor soil out back there LONG before it's going anywhere near YOUR anonymous corporate claws kiddo ..."

... and it is indeed only like 90 minutes later haflway through Coffee Number Two that I think I vaguely recall a SECOND sigh and a statement in that tone of voice like 'Well the SMALLPRINT SAYS ...' that the package in question was from "Forced Exposure" which to my still-Catwoman-embracing head means LESS THAN ZERO, some fucking midWest post-Rock "ironic" Heavy Metal concept band who think "Black Magic" is about horns and tats and sacrificing sweet innocent beautiful defencless animals when it couldnt be FURTHER from that ...altho the look on Brown Boy's face {TEE HEE HEE HEE: this IS funny in retrospect} he obviously thinks it's some kinda kinky BONDAGE type deal, weirdo deviant probably barely legal DVDs from the States and just for spite he's probably off reporting me to some MI5 dept even as I type ...
... but hey, hang on, Forced Exposure, that MIGHT be, altho I'm still not 100% sure, the distribution wing of Mille Plateaux, who are indeed meant to be sending me a round up of works by activist group ULTRA RED who I am writing about for this Finnish Arts Festival {AH, the things we do for LOVE, and it IS love, I DO love what these guys do, and I AM looking forward to writing about them, and if those WERE their CDs, well, I've probably just caused a major cross continental diplomatic incident an SORRY n'all but, comes down to it, I'm a PEON too, guys, and not the sorta critic who EXPECTS free CDs as a right, but rather the sort of council estate livin' cat welfare providin' dude who is EVER goin' to have "£17.87, Brokerage plus V.A.T." on my person at 8.33 in the am, uh uh, never ever {I even attempted a funny to ease the situation, I said "Brokerage, like, you mean they're BROKEN?!" but he just tutted, Brown Boy - do they give them classes in that, TUTTING? Becoz that was what he was best at, didn't even say who he was from, or 'GOOD Morning Sir!' or 'Have a Nice Day, anyway sir, I'll check this out and get back to you I'm sure there's a perfectly good explanation ...' the way you KNOW he woulda done if this has been the good ol' United States of A where they at least do a good job of faking the courtesy of addressing you politely as Sir or Madam even if yer the lowest trailer trash, cos they KNOW come a month or two you could be EMINEM or you might be HOWARD HUGHES on the hide out from Aristotle Onassis or ... anyway tho' ...
... talking of which ...:

Movies, Media and The Myth of The Sixties
J. Hoberman
[coming out Novemeber, The New Press, £17.95

... and HEY! I coulda should oughta have subheaded this whole piece:
DREAM ON ..., no?

posted by Ian 8/14/2003 11:16:00 AM

Comments: Post a Comment