It Is… Pt38

‘I want to be your only pet’
‘Bombay Bicycle Club’

… It waited there, under the stairs. It knew he would arrive soon to strip the walls. It knew he was a he, but didn’t know if it was an it or a thing. It, we’ll give a capital for the benefit, isn’t concerned. Its identity had long been lost. So, there in the darkness under the stairs, It waited, patiently, as ever. On time, the key in the front door turned and he stepped into the cold baron space. An echoing shell of a house, void of any woodwork, just outdated woodchipped papered walls and ceilings, half stripped from his previous visits. No door frames or skirting boards, exposed patches of bare bricks where the ancient plaster had crumbled. Abandoned pipes stared out to nowhere like feeding underwater creatures swaying on the dust’s current. Once they breathed life to washing machines, toilets and gas. Now, there stood nothing bar time. a ‘glow’ under the stairs. The radio on, a change of clothes, he set to work and It waited patiently, under the stairs. It was eager to venture out and move with each piston-stabbing scrape, to tease the radio’s vibe and perhaps drip water every now and then in another room. Tinker with his mind, why? Why not. He looked perplexed, he hadn’t soaked that corner yet, the mains were off, there was no water, yet there it dripped right in front of his eyes. He’d come back to that, right now he had made Antarctica on the third deep lining-paper over the chimney breast and he was certain he heard guillemots squawk in the distance. He let Antarctica soak and went back to the kitchen. All the while, there in the darkness behind a ‘70’s wooden panelled feature under the stairs, lights brewed. Fixed to the kitchen panelled wall, an out of place smoke alarm flickered red. No power, no water, no batteries, how could it possibly flicker. He continued his archegonial dig into circa 1973 and unearthed a small patch of his own living room, an orange, black and white swirly patter defying any attempt to replicate kitsch today. He smiled and remembered he had that same wallpaper in his hall. In rhythmic scrapes he revealed more of his past; eating porridge in the galley kitchen, the gas cooker with grill on top glowing in the dark as a translucent blue light wavered. He swore he could smell toast burning. Another soaking, ceiling while he’s at it. Soak that ceiling, like doing the dishes, let it soak. And he made his way back to the garish orange and white swirls. He didn’t remember removing that much, the small island he unearthed was now a giant continent. A noise, something dropped. There’s nothing to drop except plaster. He peered through the ladder’s rungs to the living room; there his plastic flask cup lay motionless on the floor. He brushes it off and returns to creating countries on the ceiling, it’s tough work, inch by sticky First World War trench inch. He spies Africa, a lagoon, The Panama Canal. The smoke alarm flashes red once more, he sees the claw hammer on the window seal, he swears it moves, the smoke alarm swirls orange, black and white and green, the radio squawks guillemots, the gas cooker glow swirls green, the guillemots are getting louder, the colours swirl, the hammer …

I’m scared, let’s go to World News to take our mind off It!

In Japan Karoshi means death from overwork. A government initiative since 2014 has recorded lack of sleep the biggest factor. Working in a corporate of self-employment environment suggests folk are not getting the required 6 hours a night. Better than death by karaoke I suppose.

Jour de la Nuit is French innit. It means Day of the Night, where lights are turned off across the land to emphasis light pollution and folk venture on walks to be ‘guided by the sounds of the night’ – @ can you ‘ear, how you say, ze guillemots!’

Back in Japan the robotic AI division is firing up for the Combined Exhibition of Advanced Technologies (CREATEC). Sony’s slimline glasses to aid hard of hearing and Kyocera’s autonomous vending machine on wheels (cool) are but a couple on display. You can also get shown around the trade fair by lifelike holographic figures who interact with customers. Avoid the ones with hammers.

Outdoor swimming in Zurich’s Limmat River ends 29 October. Brrr. No fear, the torture season opens again mid-April.

South Korea is holding the regions premier defence expo. Seoul’s International Aerospace and Defence Industry Exhibition will show case their domestic developed Fighter Jet KF-21 Boramae. Aiming to become the 4^th largest expo of its kind by 2027 the soft tones of K-pop and weird TV has come a long way in luring the crowds.

New York’s Staten Island was once home to the worlds largest rubbish dump. It, oh It, is now turned into a park with cycle paths and wildlife restoration called Freshkills Park, named after the landfill site and not a derelict house in Preston.

The 2023 Arctic Assembly Circle in Reykjavik has one discussion on, ‘managing risks and relationships with Russia and the Arctic. Oh, those Russians.

Ok, lastly Mexico plans to launch a new railway by the end of this year is labelled as an alternative to the Panama Canal. Renovated ports Salina Cruz in Oaxaca and Coatzacoalas in Veracruz have cut the 10hr boat journey to 6.5hrs by rail. But be quick before I strip it from the wallpaper.

Till next weak – spelling correct.

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