Royal (banking) branch rescue attempt

Central Library, 3rd floor, Vancouver

Spelweb Corp.:

          As of 2019 I have in mind a large multi-tentacled corporate body, swimming in a global sea, off from the rolling shores of the westernmost & grandest ocean . . .

          Damn. I have to work out all this.

          Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck. Fuck me. Let’s see. Start with a media hotcore and then spread out from there. Quickly Movies starring Xtasorcery for the loveli love-lorn ladies? Maybe. No -com in the rom-coms. Straight up drug injection of romantic fictions.

          A newspaper — non-fiction, *X wryly* one hopes — called Xtainfo. And a weapon eventually — digital, with a red readout, out-Dredding Judge Dredd. Xtagun. More rounds than you can shake a stick at.

          I have a plethora of details to work out, as you can *Xtasorcery bows deeply, sweeping aside as you charge him helplessly, failing* see. There is an irony in such antipathy as I sense from various vectors. Vektors being my specialty. After I get through renaming the Burrard Bridge the Bridge to the Future and demolishing Stanley Park selectively to build my international wall I’ll have something more than material poverty-greatness dreams to think about in juxtaposition. I’ll have the material of the ages. I’ll be unbound like Prometheus. Mundane, humble, superpolite Canada won’t be able to contain me.

         Tomorrow I shall wake up shortly after 6, make my toilet, and then go down the street (W. Georgia) to the main Royal Bank branch, which opens at 5, and see if my money has materialized.

          Today I picked up my two Stephen King books, which I’ll study intently: The Stand and Skeleton Crew. Already I sense a difference seeping into my writing: or more, an awareness of my flaws as bounced to the Stupid Level that Early King had mastered.

          I picked up the books from the Pulpfiction used book store on Main Street, near 8th Street. There were a lot of cardboard-containing books scattered without. My second of two books had only come in today; it had crossed my mind that when they sent the email about “The Stand” arriving that it was the only one there, but I disregarded that subtle inner voice — not gonna do that again — and went anyway. Skeleton Crew was waiting in a box in the back. (Cardboard container, that is.) The Stand was out front.

          It was mostly clear today with a few drops of rain. On the way back I rested a few times to shield my legs, which are taut from yesterday’s run. I feel like buying another Coca-Cola, but if I do I may get the runs. I want to live a normal life without much unpleasantness.

          This means that Dark Sport has to reflect that. There have to be signs of normalcy in the pages of this pro blog.

          This is around my 20th attempt at writing a blog, and my first real pro blog. I get it right, now, in every passage of every article or story. Depth, callousness of feeling, DEEP FEELING, antipodes and opposites reacting throughout.

          There are four sensor walls made of translucent tough plastic at this, the Main Library — you pass through them — well, there were four slats. One of them was splintered and sprawling to one side. Two cops had just handcuffed a guy and were holding him facing the wall just outside the library. I think without The Group this might be a coincidence; but with this society? Not much. Cops holding a miscreant. The miscreant being someone I KNOW???

          Perhaps not.

          Food was shitty today. I blew/wasted a lot of money on food today. There’s that urging for Coke again. But the thing is I want to fall asleep early. *Xtasorcery rolls strained neck on shoulders to work out kinks* I know I’m likable. I wouldn’t be in this mess if I wasn’t. But . . . books, think books. I’ve got to get more into the world of novels.

          I had wondered over and over what I would do — what would happen — if I was abandoned by The Jealous One in my life. Would I be in trouble? Would it be as glorious as I had hoped?

          I now have to conclude glumly that The Jealous One is staying. We’ll march into the future side by side, arms interlinked, head back and singing a martial tune. I can only hope she can carry only a tune like me — I hear she likes the blackest of heavy metal, and this may impede you might say her ability to synch into me . . .

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s