Issue XLI
Concerning seven dreams I've never had, Tongue Head, & The Popcorn King hisownself, Mr. Joe R. Lansdale...
From the Desk of William Pauley III
I never dream, but if I did, I’d imagine it’d be a lot like screaming, vomit and ash flying from my mouth and nostrils in waves, in waves, in oceans moving fast, stretching over the sands, into the streets, flooding the earth and everything outside it. There is no room for space in dreaming.
Here are the seven dreams I didn’t have this week (in no particular order):
DREAM #1: I was standing before a mirror, open mouthed, examining my tongue. Etched upon it were the words, “Never be too hard to kill. Don’t protect yourself from outside forces. Let it happen. Let something happen to you. Don’t be afraid of anything. Let it come at you and kill you. Let knives inside you, let bullets penetrate your skull. Never stand there shielded. Never have control. Never fucking never. Goddamn it, for once in your life, be brave.”
DREAM #2: I tried to paint a picture of you, but all I had was black and white, and you’re so colorful. I can’t substitute emptiness for something so full of life. So I made a self-portrait instead, chest up to the head. Black eyes and a busted tooth, my black tongue is sticking straight at you. You smile bright oceans of white.
DREAM #3: “The night tastes like electricity,” she said, then went inside to brush her teeth. He looked up at the moon, installed wires into it, and flipped the switch. She said she loved a full moon, so he gave it to her. She didn’t even bother to look at the gift. She’d be giving up soon.
DREAM #4: I sift through my pockets and unlock the car door. I push the key into the ignition, but wait to turn the engine. A memory finds me: her scent, her skin. I can almost see her sitting next to me. I catch a glimpse, but she’s already gone. I turn the key. Car barely starts.
DREAM #5: The devil be hiding. His bones be the keys. The woman be playing black notes, weak knees. If angels be calling, they be deaf to the ear, for the devil be shouting. Broken chords keep her near. The woman still singing, still swimming in fear. The devil still howling, still painfully clear.
DREAM #6: Dee held her baby in her arms and told me her mother attempted suicide the week before. She almost smiled when she said it. Her mother was asleep in the chair beside us. Her own snoring often woke her. I stood to leave and kissed Dee goodbye. Our second kiss was at the funeral.
DREAM #7: I’m distracted by light. I’m an insect, just as we’re all insects. The more I realize and accept this, the faster I work, the faster my little insect digits type. I will continue to spit ink onto pages until all of these goddamn creatures crawling around in my brain have vanished. Words are parasites, and I’m infested.
“Tongue Head”
Animated by Shigeru Okada
Last Week / This Week
BLOODY HOLLY dropped on Thursday, and the response was unreal! It was the second highest amount of traffic in a single day that DOOM FICTION has ever seen! Thank you to everyone who read and/or shared it! You all made my day. Haven’t read it yet? Check it out here.
Last week, on Storytime!, we went on the hunt for a creep stalking the coastlines in my folk horror tale “Autumn.” Haven’t had a chance to listen to it yet? No worries! It’ll be available to stream for free for the rest of the weekend. Check it out here.
On this Monday’s episode of Storytime!, we’ll meet a resident named Ellie. Sure, she has a deep-rooted psychological issue or two, but hey… who doesn’t? Besides, she knows a way to be rid of those troubles completely. All she needs is a good vein. Be sure to tune in to “Bad Blood” when it drops on Monday! Oh, and by subscribing, you’re sure to never miss an update!
Check out this excellent reader review of White Fuzz! Thanks, Brenda! Pick up a signed copy here.
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Oddities Theater
Mary and Max is a 2009 Australian independent stop-motion animated film written and directed by Adam Elliot and was his first animated feature film. (Wikipedia)
Synopsis: A tale of friendship between two unlikely pen pals: Mary, a lonely, eight-year-old girl living in the suburbs of Melbourne, and Max, a forty-four-year old, severely obese man living in New York. (IMDB)
“Shootin’ the Shit with Joe R. Lansdale”
by William Pauley III
(originally published on Bizarro Central - August 22nd, 2011)
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