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Crazy Chronicles RELOADED – The Wolfman – Dog Eat Dog 86,000 words

¦ dialling in from Sky Bunker ¦

19:27 GMT, Saturday 13th Feb 2010.

Buzzing on coffee and bopping up and down in my chair to the tunes thumping through the big speakers mounted either corner of my desk. Currently listening to : "Vertical" by Vibrasphere, from their feking mind-expanding feet pounding arm waving album called "Exploring the Tributaries".

Life support is on, blowing hot air across my bare legs.  I'm wrapped in Starsky and big wool Norwegian socks, skin all pink and steaming since I just climbed out from a hot bath.  Hair. growing long and shaggy again is damp against my skull.  My handlebar moustache is still in place... and continues to generate a lot of positive feedback (surreal).

Talking of surreal.  New neighbours have moved into the house next door; the house was bought around same time Jo and I bought ours, a semi detached.  The owner carved it up into upstairs / downstairs flats.  Downstairs we never hear.  Upstairs... well, some of you will recall the nutcase who shared his nazi / military / ufo rantings with us by shouting them through the wall.  He vanished many months ago. It's been silence since.  Then, a week ago, a young couple move in and ... several mornings now I've lain in bed with my first mug of tea hearing the bloke (tall, gangly fuckhead with an irritating whiney voice that never stops to take a breath) yelling about something.

This morning, Saturday, not long gone 8 a.m. he kicks off again.  I tell Jo to protect her ears.  She grins and does so.  I yell at the top of my voice, "Blah blah blah!"

I hear him react, I hear him yelling back at me coming closer to the wall, outraged...

"BLAH BLAH BLAH" I continue, louder.

He screams something.

I respond with an aria like baritone, something like from the Walls Ice Cream advert, "Just one corneto" but without any words. (YouTube for Corneto, http://tinyurl.com/yb36klo)

He falls silent.

So....
It's been an indulgent day. I cooked a big pan of bacon in the oven this morning and put together so divine tasting sarnies... a little cheddar cheese, a little French mustard. Mmm, mmm. Then coffee from the steel octagonal coffee god.  Then upstairs into the sky bunker to work on Dog Eat Dog.

I'm at Tappan Zee bridge; an infection free zone, north of the living city of New York. The character is anxious about being this close to the dead zone.

So I do post-apocalyptic narrative for the morning, then jump into my silver rocket, pull down the hood despite the grey chilly day, bang on "30 Seconds to Mars" the MP3 player, pull on my Russian tank hat, and hurtle into town with a grin stitched across my face.

Arnolfini Cafe.

More coffee.  

More Dog Eat Dog. I hit 86,000 words. Chapter 22 is going to be a bit of a beast.

Then rendezvous with Doc Toc, go see Wolfman. Great flick. Amazing how much Benicio Del Torror resembles Lon Chaney Jr; I've loved the George Waggner version since first seeing a ton of these  b/w horror flicks in my early teens.  The writers on this version have done a great job of keeping the spirit of the original film whilst adding in some brutal and very dark twists.

Back home and here I am, bopping in my chair to Vibrasphere, about to get ready for a night out on the tiles.  Been too long since I've gotten dolled up and into a party groove.  I'm getting flashbacks to mid-20's and that pit-of-the-stomach flutter of anticipation about what the night ahead might hold.