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A tall skeletal figure, Whitecoat shirt tail billowing in the wind like a sail, pulls a small, rattling blue trolley across the tarmac courtyard. It is stacked with white boxes all printed jauntily with the legend; 'Niceday'.

The Paper Shuffler, trundling sheaves of beautiful, blank white paper to the place where they will be soiled. He gazes longingly at the gate, and pictures himself, rattling blue trolley and cargo, sailing between the posts like a proud Straitjacket Galleon. Just striding over the threshold. Stepping out of the Whitecoat cave and into the bright sunshine, launching himself on the waves of dynamism, the ocean of chaos. Walk, walk, just keep walking.

And he can taste that feeling, the exhilaration, the ecstacy of that moment. He longs for it, dreams of it, desires it.

Faxman is in love with that mythical moment.

It grows within his mind like a seed , a tumour, a scream.

Edvard Munch's 'Scream', that moment, captured on canvas. He sees every white 'Niceday' sheet printed with that glorious burst of colour, that silent scream. Stuffed in the printers, crammed in the cabinets, lining the waste-paper bins. The Whitecoat World on fire....

....and the flames fill Nero's eyes, as he watches the inferno.

Yes, Faxman's come loose from his moorings.

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Thursday, May 03, 2007

Dreams of The Paper Shuffler.
Category: Life

Dreams of The Paper-Shuffler.

Shuffle-pat-tap. Shuffle-pat-tap. Shuffle-pat-tap. Stop. The edge of the stack. The white paper pile looks like marble steps leading upwards. Each sheet a step, each gap, each sheet, thousands of steps.

Shuffle-pat, tap them flat, a neat white stack, but still the image trapped; steps, thousands of white steps......

.......a tall ectomorphic figure, whitecoat billowing behind him, runs up the staircase tearing off his hangman's noose tie. The white marble steps stretch up, up, and he is no longer descending, no longer falling down into a sea of chaos, but lunging, sprinting, leaping upwards towards the blue ocean of the sky, towards the golden fractal clouds.

Biting huge, gaping paces from the air, he rises. Skating, flying up, up, ascending the flight of white steps cut into the edge of The Paper-Shuffler's stack.Flick. Flicks his thumb across the edge, a cold paper-cut slice. Staring with wide unfocused eyes, looking upon the pile with his mind's eye, looking upon the steps, he sees red spots of blood drip-drip. Droplets dripping from the ice-cold slice. Blood cascading down the staircase from the fine, thin red line, split across his skin.

Oh, if you could glimpse the scenes, the dreams of The Paper-Shuffler. His tiny pipe-cleaner figure leaping up the staircase. Flick-flick. That's where he is. Drip-drip. Jumping the scarlet puddles.

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Monday, February 26, 2007

Escapology: The Wallpaper in the toilet/bathysphere

Here they have the most amazing wallpaper in the toilet.

It is at once like standing on the edge of a dense pine forest - a fractal landscape of emerald green fronds and then within them a man with a curly moustache and the body of a slug. There, a naked roly-poly woman with rams horns, the face of a smiling buddha, a dough-faced wasp-man with hypnotic lollipop swirls in his eyes, some of the slugs have babies heads, fists, intestines, foetuses, snail shells, a one-eyed blister-skinned old man with the neck of a giraffe made out of a string of sausages......

This toilet is a bathysphere that has descended deep into the dreamtime....sunk into the fatty tissue of an infinite brain where you can view the subconcious pressed against the glass windows, a slice through a beautifully marbled mindscape.

This is a Nekyia, a night-sea voyage, and I, a submariner, an underwater Ulysees swallowed by a sea of insanity.

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Monday, January 15, 2007

Lab-rat.

Lab - Rat.

I see life as a series of punishments and rewards.

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