Bored!

Well, I guess bored is the wrong word. Tired would be better. I have done a LOT of writing the past few days. ‘How to Kill your Father’ is well underway (I cut it, again! From nearly 70,000 back to 35,000) but I am now wondering why 80,000 has been chosen as the word count? How many times have you started a book, and in the middle you get bored because the Author is obviously just “padding” in words to make that total?

I hate that.

Anyway, ‘Memories of Life in a Gin Bottle, Volume 111,’ ‘Talks with an Alien’ etc are also going very well. I think (am thinking!) about making the Talks with an Alien a short series of books, different subjects. I LOVE writing that one!!

Cookie? Who the fuck is Cookie?

Jade
I do not know if you know love? But I loved my sister, She was older, OK, so, I guess one is supposed to love the older sister, well, in China, at least.
You see? Jade was the pretty one. Now? They tell me I am pretty, but, then? Back then? It was always Jade. She was the pretty one. Talented, and first to die, for that reason?

How can I tell you what that did to me? To see her, tied up like that, beaten with hammers? To see her eyes rolling around looking for a socket and then, again? No blood? I learned that eyes to not bleed? Cynical? You have no idea what I learned from Zao.

Now, this part I am going to gloss over very quickly. But, it is a part of my life that I will never, do not wish to, ever, forget.

Ax came.

(Now, do not forget, I was naked and tied to a chair, there were four our them. armed and, obviously, highly dangerous? Ax was one person. Not “armed” I saw it. OK? I fucking saw what he did.) Zao made it OK.

Ok, now , moving on.
He picked me up. I was naked. He wrapped his coat-thing around me. And carried me. I cried. OK? Yes, sorry, After watching what he did? I cried. Sorry? Na, I went to grandmother in China.

Then, that phone call? I come to you. He said no. Did he have a choice? No. I was now a different “Cookie” to the one he saved.

More, beginning talks with that fucking Alien

9/11
Nine/Eleven or, Bush and Blair. OK, it said, and, well, racing we went, and he started with that darkest of all horses. Bush, Blair and the towers. So, tell me, he said, what is the story (ye all say that, he he!!! with the 11th September? Are Bush and Blair still walking?
Lol! I had to laugh! Where the FUCK did this Alien think he came from!!! Er, of COURSE they are still walking, I said. They are rich!!!
So, people with, er, money, get to do what they want on your planet?
Er, sorry, yep!!
And what do the people say?
Now, I admit, THAT got me. We? Say nothing. So, I told it.
What? You accept it? Why? Because they are richer?
No, of course not, it is because we are. Because we are, er, and, because we are, and, and, I had nothing to say.
Why did we accept what they said? Even their movies told us, years in advance, what they were going to do?
Because, see we are poor. And they are rich.
He just looked at me
Poor? Rich? OK, one question, are they happy? I shall tell you about A and B later, how I got here. For now? Just answer the fucking question.
OK, he got me there, kinda… see, they buy the prettiest girls, you know, the young ones, do what they want, then spit them out, no consequence?
What? No consequence? So, nobody cares? About your children? Shame!!!!
Na but, if you do something against them? Their army will kill you!!
They have an army? he asked? Who are they?
Just people, I said.
So, these, Just People, kill you, for them, so, they are scientists?
No.
So, they believe in this God of yours?
Nope.
So, what do they belive in? Why do they kill you?
Money. Sir Alien. Money.
What? I thought you said that this planet had morals??
Yes, but not when it comes to money.
So, this is, like energy? This money stuff? Like , it is valuable? We gave Tesla all that stuff for nothing?
No, Sir, our nickle? USA? well, it used to be in silver, now? it is just cheap, the cheapest tin.. to save them money.

The Alien just looked at me. Shook it’s head. Sir, you deserve everything they do to you.. If that was us? You would fight.. Just say no. Humans? Are weak, right?

What could I say?

Converstations with that feckn Alien!!

First Talks
So, it started. I have decided, since I still do not know, to call him a “him” for lack of anything better. I asked him where he was from. I shall also dispense with the usual quotation marks as it shall be obvious who is speaking and since I am actually interpreting his noises into words.
He said, well, not here! Obviously!
Well, what could I say? I looked hard at him, and asked What? Are you seriously trying to tell me that you don’t come from planet earth?
As an answer, I received a reply that even I cannot argue against. He laughed, and said, well, do I look human to you? No, I said. Well, where do you think I come from? Well, obviously not earth, I exclaimed! Exactly, so, where IS exactly not earth, then? Well, said I, that would be (he really was stupid, this Alien) other planets, perhaps even from another solar-system.
He smiled at me then as an adult, a parent perhaps, would smile at a child. A rather backward child. Nodded that head thing. And said, can I ask you a question? (A retarded child?)
Sure, I replied, willing to show willingness.
OK. So, you are from Earth? Where is Earth? Since you know where it is not, do you know where it is?
Fuck me this was going to be a difficult one!! I said, that is not known. Our planet, this planet is in space. In our galaxy. I smiled.
OK, he said. You say space is infinate? So, where, (cartesian co-ordinates do not work) do you place this earth, this planet of yours in an infinite space? Are you not lost? Did you not say take a left at Andromeda?
I swear it grinned at me. It was laughing at me. I felt like an ant!
Yes, as well you may, it said.
What? It could read my mind?
Of course, it said, leering again! We could crush you at any moment! Ant!
It took a deep breath, rolled all three eyes and said, look, OK, I am not, as you say, from Earth. So, can I ask you what this planet is like? How is it run? By whom?
Whoa!!! I said! That is three questions in one go!
Sorry, he said! OK, What is this place like?
OK, then we had our first actual talk.

Earth
Well, we have around 30% landmass and around 70% water, just like our human bodies, said I.
Oh, interesting he said. So, you are like the water?
Oh yes, everyone knows that! We are exactly like the water, in fact, there are scientists who say we CAME from the water!
What is a scientist? He asked?
Don’t be silly, I said, even you must have scientists!
So, what is a scientist, as opposed to, er, not a scientist? he insisted.
Well, mostly, scientists do experiments, work things out using maths and physics and chemistry etc, know mostly, or try to work out how things work, whereas people who are not scientists do not know of these things. (Or, are not allowed to know about such things!)
So, Scientists rule your world?
No, I laughed, God rules our world!
And, what is God? he asked?
Well, God is, well, it depends, you must just believe. He made everything, has a long white beard, is a white man, lives in heaven, sends you to burn for ever in Hell if you do not believe in him or do bad things. And, to date? We have, er, on Earth, over six thousand versions. You see, you see, we call it religion. Catholics believe their God is better, the Vatican (where all the Catholic paedophiles and despots, including the Pope live) charges gold, builds huge gold churches, owns most of the world’s property, paintings etc, and is the richest instutition on the planet. I should say, the Vatican has the largest library of books of knowledge of our species on the planet, but ,it is all a secret, and only a chosen few from within the church can have access to them! Of course, God, that is, the catholic God, who is obviously very rich, knows everything. )
Hang on, this “stuff” about humans, er, you are not “allowed” to know?
Er, no. We are not allowed. You see, there is, well, for lack of anything better, let me call it “normal Christianity.” These people believe more or less in the same God, but, some say he is against women as they do not allow women to become priests (neither do the Catholics, by the way) and some?
Well, let us just say there are many offshoots, some live very spartan lives, but all of them agree that if you do not do what their God wants then God (their God) is going to send you to hell, because you are born a sinner. Then, well, then we have the problem child of our day, not to mention before. That is called Islam, and is a religion of peace, because Mohamed, their prophet ,cut of the heads of anyone who did not believe in him, and, sadly, is still at it today! He said, basically, that he was Allah (God) and that he was the last one. Ever. Oh, and don’t even think about being a woman priest in the Islamic church. It is bad enough being a woman. Still, it must be said that before Mohamed? Women were priests, could even enter the same part of the same church as their husbands! But, that is all gone now. Because “Allah”, “God” by another name, told him everything and told him to write it down, or memorize it.
What? The Alien was frowning. He looked at me and asked. Why would this “God” thing say memorize it?
Oh, I said, that is easy, you see, God only ever tells all his secrets in the space of a few hours at most, to illiterate people in caves. Then, they write volumes and volumes of books that, well, to a “normal” reader? Would take years to read through. But, being illiterate, and in a cave no doubt, God “implants” all this important information into the brain of an idiot, to then write down somehow and share with “the people.” Don’t blame him, I said, after all, he must be getting older, because he has always had grey hair.
So, hang on, you are telling me that your people would rather believe in this white haired guy in the sky than your scientists, mathematicians, physicists and chemists? Why?
Why would they believe that?
Well, I guess because if they don’t then they will go to Hell?
Where is this, Hell?
Hell is, and I pointed downwards.
Down there.
But, you live on a globe, right?
Well, I smiled, that depends too! There are some who say our earth is flat!
What? he asked, frowning? Flat?
OK, I said, nobody said this was going to be easy, so, question and answer time!
Who says the earth is round?
Well, if you look at anything else in the Universe, it is round, so, is this the only non-round planet?
He looked at me as if I were sick.
OK, leave that one. Next. What do you think of binary-sun-systems?
Well, I DO know that they are the most common type of star-formation in our, and other Universes? As in, every other star we have found? Is a binary system.
But, your sun is not?
Er, no. NASA says no. (Well, they DID admit to a planet X, years ago, but they have since retracted that. And, we KNOW, because they tell us, that humans (homo-sapiens) are only, at most, er, 4000 years old.
Who are NASA?
Er, the hairspray shop of America! I laughed! Well, I had to laugh, I could still see them, apparently on board the International Space Station, hair-sprayed hair not moving an inch as they, er, floated to the noise of jet engines outside. You would think that, (like that famous video of the guy hammering on the moon, to the wonderful sounds of the hammer hitting metal, almost in time to the wind-moving flag? ) that someone would have told them, there IS no sound in space! It is supposed to be a feckn vacum!
OK I said, this is going to get really difficult! I think I should just talk? And if I say something unclear? You just ask. OK?
OK, he said, and off we went to the races.

Well, I DID ask. And, it is allowed.

See, I started a writing course (a while back now) because? Well, another grammar book arrived yesterday. Now, “they” were “complaining” that I used almost everything incorrectly, and my spelling was “American?”

Guess what? They were right! So, I “have” to post some things. But, this you can know: Talks with an Alien? My next novel? Book thing? Not, How to Kill Your Father? (The other book, novel!) is wonderfully coming along.

So, there.

(Of course, a really smart person would ask, how come an Austrian speaks such good Englisch? Or, English? But, ( who said, never start that way?!) who are they? lol!)

How To Kill Your Father

Is still being written. I don’t do what “they” sell, ie, keep going at all costs. Na. I am a lazy fecker. I take breaks to think. Also working on Memories 3. And, Talks with an Alien (I must admit, that feckn Alien is getting more and more interesting to “talk” with!)

Talks with an Alien?

Yep, see, this alien crashes on earth, they were just having a look, to see how far on we had come. Nothing serious. Until he crashed. And we started to talk.

Imagine all the stuff I told him? (I called him a him, because, well, why not?)

Imagine all the stuff she told me? (Her? She, where did THAT come from? er, her, it. )

Z, what, you think I do not know about (C) and how WP will want to own everything?

THAT is why this is just a bit. and, it will be changed, later.

~(Re the picture? What, you really thought I would post a picture of Z so that you could recognize her? Dream on.

See, the thing about Z, is the same as me. Just different. When she got boobs her father, fat Herr, wanted to feel them. She put him in hospital, or killed him, depends on the day you ask, and, actually, does it matter? Z wanted to leave. And she did.
Me, I never got “boobs” but, I did put people in hospital. I am a guy and I don’t like weaks. But she, this “Z” was a person, for me. That is all.

But, life on the streets was hard. So, of course, like so many others, she went underground. It was warm to sleep, but, no good air. The price was €3 per day, cash, in his hand. HE? Was from Romania. Life was easy, or impossible , he would say, So, you got warm , here, €3, now. Of course, Z had watched the non-paying people. They just disappeared. Gone. Simple. Want warm? €3. She always paid, but kept her eyes open, and, one day?
Let me just say this, because I do not know what to say? Z is now my friend. I will do anything to protect her, and I know she will do anything to protect me. So, ye can all fuck off. Thing about Z that she saw? Same thing.
It does not matter.

Z was not born in Thailand. She came here. She escaped here. Carrying history. She was born in Inverness, in Scotland. And, yes, if that is how you define things, she was “crazy”

But, as I have said elsewhere, she was my one true friend.

Sorry?

See, I know, “they” tell you, one thing at a time. For me? This is because they cannot do otherwise. I say, <I> say, do EVERYTHING. Which one do you wish? The early bird catches the worm? Every creative works at night? Every creative needs at least 14 hours?

Work all the time? Don’t EVER stop? To imagine? What? To let “your subconscious” (which, of course, being a creative, they let you know about) do it’s work?

Or , maybe, just maybe, you are one of the special people? Called, “Critics?” Who can see genius, tell you what to buy, and when, because only THEY can see this.

Right? Btw? The picture that heads this? I just because I like French girls, ok?

Seven

Seven
I never even told you, did I? Now, I am not saying she was not pretty, not my type. After all, eleven years will make an honest liar out of anyone! Thing is, I don’t know what the thing is? She just sat there, jesus, she just, well, sat there, looking at the river? I thought she was going to throw herself in and drown. Of course, I would save her, become a hero, and she would love me ever after. And, of course, that is not what happened.

Still, just down there, on the banks of the river. See her? It is Lucerne. It is Switzerland. It is summer. This is not america. There are topless girls everywhere. (Why is it ok for men to be topless but not girls?) Never mind.
I am on the bank. I see her. I want her. Althought I cannot see her clearly. It is when she does that, that I REALLY want her. What does she do? Christ. How can I say that? How can you picture this? You are on a slope. OK? It is the river’s edge. OK? There are topless girls all around you. OK? It is a really, really hot summer’s day in Lucerne. OK? OK. Then, alone as you are, you look up there. That means, you just turn your head a bit. You see her. She is totally covered up, as far as you are able to make out. And then? She does it! She reaches both arms down. Grabs her “top” and pulls up. First you see her flat belly. You want to look away, but you cannot. And, anyway, this is all in slowmo. She continues to pull, and her left breast, the one you can actually see? Gets caught in the movement. It rises up with the pull, then, just releases itself and falls down again, bouncing. Her nipple is hard, you see. She must be anticipating the cold, you think. Her arms continue the movement, it is all just one movement, like, really, she does not give a fuck what happens to that top? And, well, she lets it go when her arms get back there, moves her body forward, and before you can even say “NIPPLE” she is in the cold water, swimming upstream. She has not even seen you, and she never will. This you know, how? Because you do not talk to people who could talk back. You choose idiots. That is all.
So, you watch her swim. Upstream. And every stroke she takes you take with her. If only she knew! Instead, you pack up your tomato and quinoa sandwich and leave. Meanwhile, her top and the remains of her cigarette burn in your memory.
I walk to where she has discarded her top. I pick it up. And watch her swim. When she has had enough, she comes to shore. I am waiting, with her top. Thanks , she says, without looking. She does not give a shit. Thing is, neither do I. I see her shrivelled skin. Her cold body. Wet. Cold. Would you like a warm coffee? I ask. No. A warm vodka would be nice, you know, like Sake, but not? With fish n chips? We go to the bar in the center of the park. Everyone is there. Eating. It is , after all, Switzerland. And we are by a lake. And it is summer, so the place is packed. We find a table and sit down. What call you, they? I say. She looks. At me. Through me. She says, name? My name? Is Elodie. I come, no, not from here. Something happens and I know we are using their language to say things we already know.
She glows. I can see it. I know her. This is Zana! Do you have my top? She asks, making me realize, she has walked all this way topless. Is sitting here, topless? Of course, as I said, this is Switzerland, not america, so nobody is looking. At her.
I hand her the top, and she puts it on. Slips it on. It goes over like I remember it coming off. Just backwards. This time? The breast is pushed downwards. And I find myself thinking, why? Why was she not barred for being human? Barred for being a girl? It takes me a few moments of watching to realize we are not in america.
Do you play? She asks. Play what? I say? Er, doh!! Guitar, of course! Like everyone else? No. So you don’t play? she says? No. I mean , yes. I play, just not like everyone else. You? I know you she says, screwing up her face. No, you don’t, I say, not screwing up my face.
She asks me if I would like a real Polish vodka, at her place. Sure. Let’s go, I said. So, we finished the chips and the fresh caught fish. And leave. You know that you are weird, right? She says? So, takes one to know one, I say.
She laughs. It is a light laugh and breaks my heart. Well, it would break it if I had one. That was a long time ago.
Her place when we get there smells of oils. It smells of massage, of lying down. It is a peaceful place. I tell her. Thank you , she says, taking off her top and lying down. There is some oil there, she says, looking at the table. Middle of my back. There, now, she says.
I do as I am told and pick up the bottle on the way to her. At the last minute, my hands full of oil, she turns. Her breasts all of a sudden do not look so small. Her nipples are pointing at me, requiring attention, it seems.
Like me? She says? I like you. I answer. Her skin is soft and hard at the same time. Access from above, but not in. It says. So, I go above. And, do I like it? Yes, I like it. Until she asks me, if I do. What do you like about that? That it is free? Do you pay for women? She asks. I could smack her now. But I don’t . What? I ask instead?
OK, she says, let us start again. Do you like me? Yes. Why? I don’t know. I feel safe with you. What? YOU feel safe with me? I am but a girl! She laughs that laugh again, like raindrops falling off of rose petals, I think. You are weird, she says. Then we hear the knock at the door. We look at each other. Both of us know they have found us.
I was a strange knock. Like a seeking knock. Zana looks at the door. She is totally calm. And I see our past. How I followed her, on orders, to protect her? From, what? It becomes clear to me. Not from humans. The door breaks down. Zana just sits there. The damp top sticks to her and I cannot help watching her nipples harden. They come in the door. They are tall. Smiling. Are they bots? I think? Zana does not move. She just looks. Yes? She says? It is then that one of them raises what looks like some kind of weapon. Zana just raises her hand, facing them. Don’t ask how I know. I just knew. Zana, I say, please? But, I can see her. Face and nipples hard. She looks at them and says “down” as she lowers her hand. They fall down. I do not know why, but I feel terribly sad. Zana? She turns to look at me. And that face is framed perfectly , those huge brown eyes, in that blond hair framework in that angular face. There is nothing in that face. No emotion. They must die. She says. Zana, please, no, I say. That face just turns, looks at them, then breaths in. They literally deflate before my eyes. I kmow what she can do. Well, I have been “told” what she can do. Do not annoy this girl, they said, over and over again. Just don’t. I felt my hand on my forehead. Zana, we should go, I said. Where? she asked? Where they will not find us again!! I said, really, really full of hope. They will always find us, she said, it is what they are programmed to do.

That was the thing about Zana. I remembered now. I knew her. She was a “criminal” an “agitator” , a wanted thing.