KINGDOM OF SHADOWS:

"Last night I was in the Kingdom of Shadows.

If you only knew how strange it is to be there. It is a world without sound, without colour. Every thing there—the earth, the trees, the people, the water and the air—is dipped in monotonous grey. Grey rays of the sun across the grey sky, grey eyes in grey faces, and the leaves of the trees are ashen grey. It is not life but its shadow, It is not motion but its soundless spectre...

...All this is in grey, and the sky above is also grey—
you anticipate nothing new in this all too familiar scene, for you have seen pictures of Paris streets more than once. But suddenly a strange flicker passes through the screen and the picture stirs to life. Carriages coming from somewhere in the perspective of the picture are moving straight at you, into the darkness in which you sit; somewhere from afar people appear and loom larger as they come closer to you; in the foreground children are playing with a dog, bicyclists tear along, and pedestrians cross the street picking their way among the carriages. All this moves, teems with life and, upon approaching the edge of the screen, vanishes somewhere beyond it.

And all this in strange silence where no rumble of the wheels is heard, no sound of footsteps or of speech. Nothing. Not a single note of the intricate symphony that always accompanies the movements of people. Noiselessly, the ashen-grey foliage of the trees sways in the wind, and the grey silhouettes of the people, as though condemned to eternal silence and cruelly punished by being deprived of all the colours of life, glide noiselessly along the grey ground.

Their smiles are lifeless, even though their movements are full of living energy and are so swift as to be almost imperceptible. Their laughter is soundless although you see the muscles contracting in their grey faces. Before you a life is surging, a life deprived of words and shorn of the living spectrum of colours—the grey, the soundless, the bleak and dismal life.

It is terrifying to see, but it is the movement of shadows, only of shadows ... Suddenly something clicks, everything vanishes and a train appears on the screen. It speeds straight at you—watch out!

It seems as though it will plunge into the darkness in which you sit, turning you into a ripped sack full of lacerated flesh and splintered bones, and crushing into dust and into broken fragments this hall and this building, so full of women, wine, music and vice.

But this, too, is but a train of shadows.

Noiselessly, the locomotive disappears beyond the edge of the screen. The train comes to a stop, and grey figures silently emerge from the cars, soundlessly greet their friends, laugh, walk, run, bustle, and ... are gone. And here is another picture. Three men seated at the table, playing cards. Their faces are tense, their hands move swiftly, The cupidity of the players is betrayed by the trembling fingers and by the twitching of their facial muscles, They play ... Suddenly, they break into laughter, and the waiter who has stopped at their table with beer, laughs too. They laugh until their sides split but not a sound is heard. It seems as if these people have died and their shadows have been condemned to play cards in silence unto eternity. Another picture. A gardener watering flowers. The light grey stream of water, issuing from a hose, breaks into a fine spray ...

This mute, grey life finally begins to disturb and depress you. It seems as though it carries a warning, fraught with a vague but sinister meaning that makes your heart grow faint. You are forgetting where you are. Strange imaginings invade your mind and your consciousness begins to wane and grow dim ... "

Maxim Gorky, 1896

HAPPY NEW YEAR

WARP(?)

STRYX TERCERO

I found this while researching the stryx, from the same program that featured Grace Jones.
Thank you Norman Lear, thank you my father and mother.

CALENDAR DAYS ON WHICH I WILL DIE (PROJECTED)

Feb. 12th

Thousands of Februarys from now in a future where I live tethered to a potted plant. Forced into a compulsory one man focus group I will be beaten to death by my captors when I cannot answer which pair of underwear is whiter. The advertising campaign is a success because of my sacrifice.

Oct. 25th

In an accident on a highway. I am sitting in the front passenger seat. Someone I don't know is driving and someone I know is talking to be from the back.

March 8th

Killed by a two-headed woman in a convenience store bathroom. Domestic dispute. I am married to one of the heads. And living in the bathroom.

Jan. 12th

While on location as a talent scout for a reboot of a never popular children's show, the world ends. The last thing I see is glowing geometric patterns in the sky over the city. Crushed by falling architecture and left out of the final horribleness.

Aug. 7th

Killed by a complicated thought. I imagine a gunfight and am trying to calculate the amount of bullets shot from hypothetical guns, while the gunfight is interrupted by some characters, real and imagined, from my life. After seeing pets and family members torn apart in the fire-fight, my last brave act is to step out and wave my arms for a cease fire. Smugly proud of my own bravery, no matter how late, I die in real life as an old man in a hospital cafeteria face down in a plate of soup.

March 20th

Age 19, drunk driving. My car is found somewhere off of the Blue Ridge Parkway.

Jan. 22nd

While holding a telephone and looking at a cardinal at a bird feeder against a snowy backdrop.

May 3rd

Earthquake. My parents keep the hope that I am alive. Then they see a picture of me from ninth grade and decide to forget me.

Sept. 26th

At night I am choked to death by the cousin of a friend's boyfriend for not knowing the names of certain very important celebrities.

Jun. 15th

Killed by my fiancee in a complicated drinking game.

Dec. 14th

Self inflicted gunshot wound.
My spirit enters one of the following machines:
1. Gas flame which keeps the track switchers unfrozen on a southern freight line
2. Broken crane at an unused dock on the China Sea.
3. Automatic floor polisher at an art museum.
4. Child's toy guitar.
5. Mannequin
6. Random number generator computer used by codebreakers, a video camera with the lens cap on, assigning numbers to the visual noise.