Sunday, October 16, 2005

A Scanner Darkly

WTF, I got dumped over a pack of cigarettes. Life is messed up. Anyways, here's an excerpt from "A Scanner Darkly". If you haven't read it, then it'd be a good idea to waste some time doing so. But don't take it from me, Hollywood is making a movie of it(Keanu Reeves as a spaced out drug addict...could it work?).

"Another fantasy film rolled suddenly into his head, without his consent: He saw, first, a big parked Pontiac with a bumper jack on
the back of it that was slipping and a kid around thirteen with long thatched hair struggling to hold the car from rolling, meanwhile yelling
for assistance. He saw himself and Jerry Fabin running out of the house together, Jerry's house, down the beer-can-littered driveway to the
car. Himself, he grabbed at the car door on the driver's side to open it, to stomp the brake pedal. But Jerry Fabin, wearing only his pants,
without even shoes, his hair all disarranged and streaming--he had been sleeping--Jerry ran past the car to the back and knocked, with his
bare pale shoulder that never saw the light of day, the boy entirely away from the car. The jack bent and fell, the rear of the car crashed
down, the tire and wheel rolled away, and the boy was okay. "Too late for the brake," Jerry panted, trying to get his ugly greasy hair from his eyes and blinking. "No time." 'S he okay?" Charles Freck yelled. His heart still pounded. "Yeah." Jerry stood by the boy, gasping. "Shit!" he yelled at the boy in fury. "Didn't I tell you to wait until we were doing it with
you? And when a bumper jack slips--shit, man, you can't hold back five thousand pounds!" His face writhed. The boy, little Ratass, looked
miserable and twitched guiltily. "I repeatedly and repeatedly told you!" "I went for the brake," Charles Freck explained, knowing his idiocy, his own equal fuckup, great as the boy's and equally lethal. His
failure as a full-grown man to respond right. But he wanted to justify it anyhow, as the boy did, in words. "But now I realize--" he yammered
on, and then the fantasy number broke off; it was a documentary rerun, actually, because he remembered the day when this had happened, back
when they were all living together. Jerry's good instinct--otherwise Ratass would have been under the back of the Pontiac, his spine smashed. The three of them plodded gloomily back toward the house, not even chasing the tire and wheel, which was still rolling off. "I was asleep," Jerry muttered as they entered the dark interior of the house. "It's the first time in a couple weeks the bugs let up
enough so I could. I haven't got any sleep at all for five days--I been runnin' and runnin'. I thought they were maybe gone; they've _been_
gone. I thought they finally gave up and went somewhere else, like next door and out of the house entirely. Now I can feel them again. That
tenth No Pest Strip I got, or maybe it's the eleventh--they cheated me again, like they did with all the others." But his voice was subdued
now, not angry, just low and perplexed. He put his hand on Ratass's head and gave him a sharp smack. "You dumb kid--when a bumper jack slips
get the hell out of there. Forget the car. Don't ever get behind it and try to push back against all that mass and block it with your body." "But, Jerry, I was afraid the axle--" "Fuck the axle. Fuck the car. It's your life." They passed on through the dark living room, the three of them, and the rerun of a now
gone moment winked out and died forever. "

- A Scanner Darkly(Philip K. Dick)

Friday, October 07, 2005

We're fucking mean.......

Scanning over some old description needed.......