We think about a world, hollowed out, surrounded by silent invisible super weapons in space. Billions of biological processes below hung on tiny first person perspectives to what end… can’t ever be shown; field of vision always too small. Draped and un-structured. The inability to execute much beyond consuming what is front of you; minefields of miscommunication, dominated by landscapes someone else made decades ago, went home to their own rabbit hutch night after night trying to pass the time without incident. Red missile outlines pouring down on us from assorted points on the compass, the defense shield lazily catching them in neon green geometric grids. Who’s to say they aren’t inside us now? I'm armor and evasion. You keep on launching more at me.
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COLORFILM welcome
Walking to Asakusa through deserted cityscape. Stores are shuttered. Very few people streaking by on bicycle or scattering to conbini safety. It’s a holiday and the sky is heavy and grey. Time wave zero vibrations flowing out from the subways, water rushing through dark and secret passages under heavy steel manhole covers. Ghosts we can’t see in the street. Going in the wrong direction so I get a cab. Figuring Sensoji and Kaminarimon will be the last places effected by the flow, I tell Archery Bow Child to meet me at the Nakamise gate. For once we both arrive at the same time. Impermanence holding fast here in the form of fading Kodak film booth, eroding instant cameras from decades past. American Godzilla toys stacked up in the old omochaya. Corrugated gates coming down. It’s a holiday after all. We make for Rokku-za to see what happened to the movie theaters: the Toho and the Meigaza only to find construction sites. Cops and drunks still clinging to their old ways, but the parachute ride at Hanayashiki looks like a building crane now. A glittering celestial Don Quijote dominates the block now, all lights and new car smell like something out of a Las Vegas afterlife. Archery Bow Child consults her clackbox to see what the street used to look like 100 years ago, but there are no matches, no hits, and everything comes back completely and totally blank. We were just projecting it ourselves the whole time.
Shibuya dog on Basketball Street
We live in the gap: dead center in the middle of disparity between what is promised and what we actually get. Surrounded by oversized menu photos from a million chain izakaya; obscured faces identified by false names and phone numbers; the pet on the poster, the one you wind up with; ads on the trains promising happy news, happy mail, happy places. The distance between things is probably why everyone looks so constantly beat down, hard work and a full time job trying to make up the difference.
Paranoia Girls / パラノイア·ガールズ
Ok, so PARANOIA GIRLS, my experimental psychedelic suburban surreal science fiction opus about teenage girls and acid fried army colonels, has begun serializing on tumblr.
Features art by Yunico Uchiyama with translation and a lot of behind the scenes support by the incredible Marie Iida. We will be updating the main story bi-weekly and posting apocrypha and related artifacts whenever we find them or the Extra Dimensional Reality Archive can be bothered to loan them out. So yeah, here we go…
Dracula Summer
Umbrella walking in crowded Shibuya side street, of course everything is ragged and falling apart, so the umbrella is already broken and plastic tips protecting sharp edges are missing which is unfortunate because in a tight spot where there is no more room to maneuver, the metal points scrape the eyeballs of a office lady passing by, turning at least one into bloody jelly leaking everywhere, mingling on the street with rain water, soy sauce, urine, and boss coffee all of it collected as evidence of a serious crime – but it was an accident – that can never be properly explained as rights and freedoms are taken away in holding cells and miserable rooms where nothing is ever resolved.
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