Having experienced an uncannily similar release, the Space Lady, invited me to a secret after-hours club - Titan Ze - that operated beneath the dirty sonus within a thin membranous envelope that separated the dirty sonus from the frighteningly hyper-real universe that oscillated beneath at 96khz (this was a universe where those beyond us expunge and expurgate all things mucus-like from their bodies before their acceptance into the hallowed domains of purity). Taking my seat, I was presented with a complimentary cocktail from a corduroy encrusted waitress? server? refreshment accomodator? with collagen engorged female parts and caterpillar tracks for feet.
"what is this?" I asked.
"it's a pewter ashtray, that's four parts quinine to one part cola" she replied, through poorly ventilated, cancerous lungs.
Sitting back and gently sipping at the thick black juice through an articulated syringe, I absorbed the floor show - an unremarkable little pantomimic excursion titled three squared...
The Digital Diary