Monk Quixote

You may, or may not, be famil­iar with the holodeck in Star Trek Cil­lit Bang.  This is a tele­vi­sual treat, where­upon all men must wear pas­tel jumpers and have pre-pattern bald­ness com­bovers.  When things are tough, and they fre­quently are, for are they not men, and is life not tough (woot, woot, how excit­ing, there really is a tough­ness index and it mea­sures when rocks crack.  Or MDF.  But not Cil­lit Bang, because it’s too tough, and would prob­a­bly melt your eyes)?  Any­hoo — grown men in marigolds throw­ing sponges at each other and try­ing to win the world bleach cham­pi­onships for who can scrape the enamel / MDF / goatskin off a Stan­dard Ubik Toi­let­Pan the quickest. 

Any­hoo.  So this holodeck thing.  I was reminded of it just now.  Novel (arrrghh they’ve hid­den the hash key on the key­board again.  Bas­tards!  Cil­lit Bas­tards in Pas­tel Jumpers.  Or should that be i-Pastels see­ing as it’s a M-m-m-m-i-Claudius mac.  Where is it?  Where is the fuck­ing hash key?   Argggggggggh­h­hhh) NUMBER one is cur­rently frozen in time in sev­eral places.  Flame Haired Parker (who cur­rently bears an alarm­ing resem­blance to the new host on the Mup­pets when that returned to air) is talk­ing to Tom in the Four Feath­ers.  Tom is also in the mid­dle of an argu­ment with Anna and in two other scenes is try­ing to get out of his apart­ment with­out being too much of an anti-hero (I prac­tise this expres­sion on a daily basis.  It looks a bit like constipation).

And while think­ing about these scenes, paused in mid-air until I am once again perch­ing Mag­gie on a pre­car­i­ous shelf and drink­ing God’s own cof­fee on a train and clack­ing on these scrab­ble tile keys that put the quote in the wrong place and HAS NO ARSING HASH KEY — I won­dered if my writ­ing is now also ‘expressed’ in the same man­ner that I ‘con­sume’ tele­vi­sion, ie end­less rep­e­ti­tion on chan­nel 5 and lots of paus­ing and fast forwarding.

Or maybe I just need Novel BANG! And the shift key is gone as well.  Kid­ding.  I like the novel.  It’s not as much fun as it could be, but then that would sim­ply be exhaust­ing for any­one try­ing to keep up.  Includ­ing myself.  As was pointed out the other day — HOW?  How?  How does Tom add sugar to his cof­fee when he’s still in hand­cuffs? Hmmm?  Not such a clever writer now, hmm?
Indeed.  It’s all very con­fus­ing.  I should sleep on it.  And Tom should cut down on the sugar.

This entry was posted on Sunday, January 7th, 2007 at 11:35 pm, is filed under writing and tagged as: tom's universe.. You can leave a comment, or trackback from your own site.

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