Back in Business
May 25th, 2005 by Adam
It’s been quite a while since I posted, but in my defense I’ve had quite the full plate: work, houseguests, massive internet failure, finals, the long anticipated graduation, and an exhausting weekend in Vegas. Beyond that I refused to post again until I finally finished La Mission Civilisatrice– a 60 page clusterfuck written over several months about/for a girl I haven’t seen in almost a year. When you put it that way it seems like quite the waste of time, but can you really put a price on closure? I’ve been working on other things too, and dealing with the fallout from Alli Alone. That fucking thing caused a shit storm like I never envisioned, but it felt good to have something I created take on a life of its own and elicit such strong responses from so many people.
At any rate, here’s a story about Frankenstein from La Mission. The actual story features intercalary pieces, but in the interests of brevity (and not getting my ass chewed out) I’ll give you fine folks the abridged version:
In The March Of The Winter
Frankenstein was born that first winter from a potent combination of rage and sorrow and existed for a time to teach the doctor about the fallacy of playing God. When that pursuit failed, he spent the subsequent months living in a windmill, hiding from daylight, catching meals and conquering new phobias as necessary. To be sure, it was an interesting time for a large man with horrifying scars to be wandering the woods by day and sneaking into the village at night to buy groceries or visit a sex shop….
Frankenstein made friends in the desert— Jesus, Dirt, and Tipsy— and created alter egos for himself to explore the possibility that he could be anyone. But freedom came one night when, fucked up on peyote and mescaline, he saw buses swimming by and realized that he was no one….
By summer Frankenstein felt renewed and explored plastic surgery to repair his more disfiguring scars, but after hooking up with a nurse he felt better and leapt from the third floor window of the local hospital and headed for the mall, saline drip in tow. What emerged was a scene more ridiculous than Weekend At Bernie’s and Encino Man put together, and Frankenstein headed for the beach sporting Bermuda shorts and shiny new nipple clamps with the idea of getting a tan and maybe just forgetting about the past….
Joining the circus briefly in early autumn as a combination comedian, magician and costume designer, Frankenstein began conceiving of retiring his neck bolts and finding a better climate. The final straw came when some bureaucrat cunt from the department of Fish And Wildlife Services took exception to his hovel in the desert (which he had managed to partially irrigate and make somewhat arable). She first evicted Tipsy from his shack down the block— bulldozing his house in the name of the sand flea— and set her sights on Frankenstein’s abode….
Frankenstein managed to escape out the back with his finer possessions: an expensive bottle of cognac, two REO Speedwagon LP’s and a Nepalese dagger which he used to slash the woman’s tires and, after urinating in her open window, headed North and got a job at the local sperm bank identifying inferior samples and destroying them….
He started seeing a clinical psychologist, and after being rebuffed for a date, declared himself sane and started up a traveling softball team out of spite, pointing over the fence every at-bat though he enjoyed a lifetime average significantly lower than his IQ. Upon returning to his shitty uptown apartment, Frankenstein checked the calendar and realized it was nearly his first birthday. He thought of calling the doctor, but instead chose to ingest copious amounts of ecstasy and bake a cake though he got bored halfway through, ate the batter, and passed out on the couch for the remainder of the Fall. The End
My goal for the duration of my involvement with this site is one post per week. Someone please kick me in the balls if I start falling behind. The deadlines and crunch to come up with something new and creative every week will prepare me for a career as a starving artist.
It’s good to be back,
Adam
Have you ever read “Cosmic Banditos”? It’s got far less Frankenstein but more quantum physics–drug and violence on par. Or you can read “In Search of Captain Zero”, by the same author (AC Weisbecker) with pretty much the same subject of drugs and gratuitous violence except that this time it’s an autobiography and really damn depressing.
I don’t know if it’s your thing, but I have got a wiki set up (wiki.atomicworkshop.org), and as soon as I get that burst of inspiration (wait for it…it’s coming…wait….) I am going to try using it as a tool to perfect creative fiction. Pretty much it lets you track all of your revisions, letting everybody know exactly where and when you dropped the ball. The point is also that other people can edit it (though that can be disabled if you are one of those purists). Check it out, if you dare.
Otherwise, I’m glad you’re back on board buddy. And from reading the excerpt, glad to know you’re doing fine. When Frankenstein starts debating the merits of 2-ply toilet paper, I will start to worry. I’ll also check the postage on that kick in the balls too.
you know ill always be there to kick you in the balls buddy, and then fondle them a little bit afterward