Sorry I must sound like one of those psycho-acoustic recordings by Raudive
‘Zenn-Ta Radio from the beyond’. It’s good to hear your voice again, Jacqui. What time
is it in San Francisco? Remember, I told you you’d be the first I’d call as soon as I finished with the shootings… I’ve wanted
to call you for a while now, Jacqui. Ah, shit, I arrived here I don’t know how after this morning…
I only remember walking, thinking about those puppets on TV; do you remember
‘Rag, Tag and Bobtail’? And the last episode, with the bunnies, waving
from the shore, leaving for the last time… ‘Goodbye Rag, goodbye Tag…’ I
just saved the world, Jacqui. I got shot, like you always said.
The zen bullet… The zen bullet hits you and… Everything becomes… Just
the way it is, for the last time… No matter where you aim, you’ll hit yourself… They shot me,
that’s all. Your number was swirling in my mind… Christ, how it stinks…
With these old rags at Westminster. The acoustics were impressive… The
sound of his neck snapping was like a salute… ‘Narrative veste’ might be
the best translation… Like Tom Hanks meeting
Lyndon B. Johnson and John Lennon in ‘Forrest Gump’… Cut and paste… Imagine
what that would do to the story… That’s what they’re doing here. They come in
their outfits, Jacqui… The ‘wandering fairies’, the ‘good people’, the elf-machines
of hyperspace… All the bullshit we believed while we were made of
ecstasy… It’s real and it’s us, Jacqui… Under the clothes, it’s us… Like
that time in the kitchen… Love love love love ‘She was a girl from
Birmingham’. ‘Right, fuck’ he said. Or something like that… I can’t find the
right tone with a couple of liters of blood less. He did the impossible
this morning… A Catholic kid alone against five gnostic howling demiurges. Now… Now it’s all one… It’s done… I’ve killed all those people
because they disagreed with me… No one messes with Lara Croft when she’s shooting
tigers and soldiers. Jacqui, I feel like when you take
ecstasy and there’s only love… The war is over… Everything that loves itself… Bright… In the kitchen,
kissing us inside and out like gloves… It’s still happening… The king is dead,
Jacqui…
(grant morrison)
Greet with joy!
