4.29.2010

Tapes

Frank Lister apparently threw his calendar out of the window after setting it on fire.  At least, that is what my neighbor said that I did.  I seem to be losing days again.  I will wake up one morning and not know where I've been or what I've done but I will feel as though I have had memories of that time.  I will be able to tell you what I've done or where I've gone or who I talked to or even what I said but I can;t tell you when I did or said or saw it.  I just know that it happened between the last day I remember and the day that I am telling you.  For instance, I woke up this morning and thought that I had already reported back to you on this but in fact there was no evidence that I had done this.  But it was so very clear and vivid that I had.  I checked and the last thing I had posted was on 4-22.  Even stranger is I don't remember taking a break between 4-1 and 4-22.  But I did.  Go back.  Look.  There is nothing posted between those dates.  I reported nothing between those dates.  What is weirder is I think that I have already told you all of this once or maybe I just think that I thought about telling you this.  I really do not know.
I am still being stopped on the street (or at least I think that is what is happening to me) and being congratulated.   I saw my picture on the cover of a magazine here in the city (I think I did).  I was holding up a contract and shaking some dudes hand.  Seeing this bugged me out because I really don't remeber that happening.  Even scarier is I have no idea what was on that paper that I was holding up.  People keep wanting to shake my hand and then they say "Show Me!  I want to see!"  I don't know what this means (but I think I should know).  I usually just look at them, smile and say "I can't right now.  I need to do this in a controlled environment.  call my office and set up a time or catch me at the next show."    Call my office?  I don;t have an office.  A show?  I am a kids magician and a really shitty one at that & there is no way I am having a show anywhere, especially one that will have adults as the main audience.  But why did I say this and how did i know that I said it?  (Dramatic Pause for effect)

BECAUSE I HAVE BEEN TAPING EVERYTHING.

Apparently this is something I started recently.  I had a box delivered to me this morning from PUS Industries and it contained a bunch of VHS cassettes and little audio cassettes.  The first one I opened up was labeled:

Street Conversation #13

And there it was me telling someone to call my office and set it up with my people.  (paused again)

I just sighed.

I'm quite confused but I have been pretty busy by the amount of tapes in this box.  Ted is coming over later to help me go through them.  I still have not heard from Bryce (or maybe I have and it is on one of these tapes).  Apparently he still works at the office according to Ted.

Did I tell you yet about the ONION?


4.22.2010

can I control the radio knob with my mind?

Frank Lister says good morning and he hopes you all had a restful night of sleep. The environment in which I now live has gotten pretty freaking crazy. Some weird shit is going on with me and with everything around me. This morning I woke up, made a quick call trying to locate Bryce and then stepped out around the corner for coffee. As soon as I stepped in the door of the Flying Saucer, I noticed it. I mean right away. Usually in the morning there is a line. People getting their drug on in the morning. And this morning was no different. The douche bag that I HATE was behind the counter. He doesn’t really acknowledge you because he is too busy musing on his own existence and over the fact that his thought process will revolutionize modern art for the next millennia. You know that guy? The music selection was bad (as it always is with this guy). It was some Indian meditative morning jazz bullshit. I need some punk rock in the morning, you know? The Bronx or some Bikini Kill or Minor Threat. I don’t need somebody playing a sitar that is basically playing a lullaby to lull me into sleep. Hey jackass, why do you think I am ordering a RED-EYE? It has shots of espresso in it. I want to WAKE UP! Anyway, all of that is the normal part. What’s abnormal is the fact that as soon as I passed the threshold of the establishment my brain started to race. I started to tune in. I heard the music and immediately I thought of Jay Reatard and then 50 foot Wave. My next observation was the line. I could hear everyone’s conversations and started realizing how annoyed I was with what people were talking about. Almost instantaneously I started to hear new conversations about puppet shows and one about the merits of eating paste as a child and one about mowing the grass while wearing slippers. Really off beat stuff, you know? At one point I envisioned these 2 guys (who actually looked like 2 people I would like to know) talking at once. Oddly it was all stuff that normally would make me start to laugh. At that moment too, I thought about Bryce. For a minute I felt like he was there. Sitting in the corner. This scenario would be something that he and I would totally laugh about (especially since we started hanging out with TED and weird shit follows him around). So the music switches, the conversations become weird and most conveniently the line parted for me like the RED SEA and Moses. Everyone looked at me like I was carrying two tablets about to drop the rules of the world and they all just parted. I walked to the front of the line and the douche bag was gone, nowhere to be found. In his place was the normal weekend guy. The one who is nice and talks to you and doesn’t think he is better than you or smarter than you. He enjoys serving you coffee and providing VEGAN treats periodically. A guy who provides a great coffee experience. He was there and he waited on me, even offering to pay for my coffee. “For you, It’s on the house” he said. Wow! That felt good. What I thought was going to be a terrible moment in my day, a horrible way to kick things off turned into a great time of my life. A little thing to think about throughout the day to help me move on in this life. I got great music (more specifically the exact music I wanted to hear), interesting conversation (the kind I like to eavesdrop on), premium front of the line service and the respect of my barista. AND FREE COFFEE (free drugs). I stuck around long enough to hear the end of the song (Scars on Broadway-THEY SAY) and headed for the door. As soon as I heard the little bell on the back of the door clang against the door and I took the first step outside I heard it. I heard the voice of that douche bag behind the counter, all smarmy and smart ass. I heard the ridiculous music again, the chimes and new age lullaby bull shit that he usually plays. I heard the absolutely asinine conversations from the people in line. Everything that I HATED just a few minutes earlier, that I thought had magically changed, was back, as though they always were. I stuck my head back in and sure enough it was that horrible taste in my mouth again. It just seemed so real only a couple of minutes before. I stood right outside the door, and took a sip of that coffee and it was the WORST cup of coffee I had ever had.


Then two of the guys that were in line in front of me came out, stopped, looked over at me and said “Congratulations man”.(this was odd to me, what are they congratulating me for?  What did I do?) So as they are walking away, one of them looks at the other and says ‘What were we talking about?” and the other guy says, “We were talking about the merits of eating paste as a child.”

I took another sip of coffee and it was the best tasting coffee that I had ever had.

4.21.2010

Standing in the middle of the road too far to see behind me and too far to see in front

Frank Lister hasn’t the foggiest idea what went wrong but he knows without a shadow of a doubt that something definitely did.

Ever have one of those days where you wake up and you know that suddenly everything has changed? What you thought yesterday or even before you lay your head down on the pillow the night before (even if you can’t remember doing so) was so very different than what you are thinking, feeling or even believing at this moment?
Apparently I stopped working at my job or at least when I woke up this morning I had not even the slightest reason to believe that that is where my day was supposed to begin. In fact, it was so strong that at first I thought it was Saturday, which would make the feeling that I was not going to work today make sense. The only problem with this is that if today is Saturday then that would mean that I missed about 5 days of my life or that I had been a sleep for 5 days straight. So today, it is determined, is NOT Saturday. It is in fact Wednesday and I did miss one day of my life, Tuesday (although I have this weird feeling that I missed more but I cannot seem to make sense of any of that). Regardless, this morning I came to the realization that I no longer work in the office. When this occurred I don’t know but I believe it to be true (the realization occurred when I was shaving, the act of no longer working at the office is where it gets hazy). I wonder if Bryce is no longer working there. I tried to call him but he did not answer his phone and his voice mail box seems to be full as I could not leave a message. In fact, I have no idea where he is. I feel like my voice sounds different.

I feel much more powerful today than I did on Monday. I feel like I can do whatever I want to. That feels good.

Here are some weird things:
1. I woke up to find myself in a stranger’s apartment (this morning)
2. I wasn’t at all bothered by this
3. I have a mysterious set of keys in my pocket(I have no idea who they belong to)
4. Bryce must have bled on my shirt (Not weird in and of itself but weird since this is fresh blood and he was not in the stranger’s apartment with me when I woke up: THIS MORNING)
5. When I was walking back to my apartment this morning people were pointing at me and seemed to be a little frightened ( I had removed the bloody shirt in exchange for a Villanova Sweatshirt so it wasn’t the blood)
6. Speaking of blood, I saw the blood on the wall guy in the bar (Eulogy) bathroom on Monday night (yeah I KNOW it was him). Even though I no longer work there, I think I want to kill him.

Remind me to tell you the story about the ONION.

I know how this guy feels

4.19.2010

The ending to events that have yet to occur

Frank Lister will be back tomorrow. In celebration of that occasion, this evening, I am going to stage a recreation of events that have already occurred but have never happened. If I really wanted to, I could do this over and over and over and over. I could just keep everything in a loop. I could have you reading the same Frank bullshit everyday over and over and over and over. Each day it would be as fresh as it was the first day. Each day you would continue to wake up, rinse and repeat if I allowed it. However, I am merciful and am not that easily amused or complacent. I have a purpose. I have a reason. I have a strategy. I HAVE A REASON. And that reason starts and ends with Frank Lister. So, in his honor, he will attend the ONION this evening. He has already been here. He just doesn’t know it or at least not anymore. And tomorrow he will tell you in great detail about the ONION and the events that occurred in the haze of minutes after we left that bar. There will be a casualty and there will be a legend that will grow out of the seeds that will be planted tonight. This legend will be unknown until the time in which it chooses to reveal itself. At that time, all will have the realization and all will have a memory.


In closing, I want you to know that none of this has happened.

Truely
Ted the Electric

4.12.2010

Think about where you work for a minute

Imagine a huge pristine lake on a sunny summer afternoon. I’ll give you a minute to imagine this. Go ahead. I’ll wait.


Are you done? Good. Now…

Did you see the houses that lined the shore of the lake? The 2 story lake houses with their docks and jet-ski’s and music playing in the backyard? Did you see the happy family playing bocce ball in the yard? The dogs digging up the human remains from the side of the house and the father trying to cover it up by showering his kids with gifts and his wife with all of her desires? Did you see the man that was wearing the red Speedos? You know the one who is sunbathing in his backyard but his Speedos are on the ground next to him because he thinks no one can see him but he can certainly see the family in the pool next door? Can you see the teenagers sneaking beer out the neighbors cooler because he is passed out from drinking too much too early in the morning? Can you see the woman who is crying on the 2nd floor of her house while her husband shoots crystal meth before leaving for town to buy hot dog buns for the kids? Can you see the guy smearing blood on the wall of the bathroom in your office?

Ok. Now imagine you are in a boat. A small 22 foot Umiak with a calfskin sail and two 9 foot oars. You are in a boat on the lake on the sunny summer afternoon. The lake with the houses nestled against the shoreline with the people waving out at you. Go ahead. I’ll give you a minute.

Good.

Now imagine for a minute that you fall out of the boat. You flail your arms as you limply fall into the water. You sink into the water slightly; seaweed wrapping itself around your arm. You kick your legs once, stretch upwards as hard as you can. You see the light piercing the murky water and finally you rip open the surface of the water. You breathe out, spewing smelly sulfur lake water into the air. Gasping softly trying to understand what has happened.

After wiping away the algae and muck from your eyes you try to get acquainted.
You look around and the boat is gone.
You turn around again and the houses are gone.
Panicked, you turn again and the lake is gone.
Finally, you are gone.

I’ll give you a minute.

Now imagine you were never in the boat. You were never on the lake. There were never houses and there were never people in the backyards or bones being dug up by dogs. There was only you in the bathroom at your office smearing blood on the wall and thinking you knew who did it. There were only people who thought that they were at houses on lakes sitting naked in the sun. There were only people who thought that the bones of their dark secrets had been dug up by the dog that belonged to the people who believed that they were your neighbor living on a lake in a 2 story house. There were only people who believed that they saw you fall out of that boat. They believed it so strongly that every time that they saw a picture of that boat they cried, even if they were at work looking at the picture of that lake in that town where they lived that they had framed after they saw it in a magazine and knew, just KNEW, it was the lake where they had lived. They told the story so many times over drinks with those same neighbors who lived on the lake burying their secrets for their dogs to dig up. The story of how they lived on a lake and they saw you sail out onto the lake in a boat and then fall out of the boat and disappear even though you know that there is no lake and there was no boat. They cry and then they tell the story again the next day sitting in the office, naked with their Speedos on the ground while the wife in the next cubicle cries because her husband just shot some crystal meth before going to pick up the kids. They tell the story because they believe it. They need stories to tell to get through this meaningless life. They believe this story because they need it to feel alive. Like they were part of something. Part of something other than Cisco IP phone systems and Post it notes and certified original document stamps. Part of something that they don’t understand but must put their trust in. Part of something that they must believe in. They believe that you, insert your name here, fell out of a boat on a lake that they live on and disappeared. They think this even though they get e-mails from you every day in the office or pass you in the hall or sit next to you in the cafeteria. They believe that they saw you fall out of that boat and disappear. You are not you but someone else. You fell out of the boat. You see them. You hear them. You try to show them that you did not fall out of the boat. You are right here and they have a meeting with you at three. Frustrated you get in the boat. You paddle out to see if you can find you in the lake. You paddle out in that boat. You are going to show them that you did not fall out of the boat. You are going to show them all that THERE IS NO BOAT.

Now imagine for a minute that you fall out of the boat. You flail your arms as you limply fall into the water. You sink into the water slightly; seaweed wrapping itself around your arm. You kick your legs once, stretch upwards as hard as you can. You see the light piercing the murky water and finally you rip open the surface of the water. You breathe out, spewing smelly sulfur lake water into the air. Gasping softly trying to understand what has happened.

After wiping away the algae and muck from your eyes you try to get acquainted.
You look around and the boat is gone.
You turn around again and the houses are gone.
Panicked, you turn again and the lake is gone.
Finally, you are gone.

The next day over drinks you tell them all of how you were sitting on the shore of the lake where you all live and you saw a someone, you perhaps, fall out of a boat and disappear. You cry and order another round so Sue can tell the story.

I’ll give you a minute.

Again, Truly

Ted the Electric.

4.10.2010

Berzerk

Frank Lister has left the building.


It has been rumored that in 1985, a boy near the age of 11 suffered a massive heart attack while playing the arcade video game Berzerk. His medical history was free of heart defect, free of malfunction, free of even the slightest indication of weakness. In fact, the Sisters considered the boy, the picture of health in all aspects of his life. His body was healthy. His mind had been free of defect as well. He was the perfect student, the perfect servant of the higher power, and the perfect tutor at the school. He was the perfect orphan. The boy had been abandoned by his parents as an infant and was left at the gates of the Sisters of Mercy of our Lady of the Highway convent in the middle of the night in 1974. Although it sounds like a scene from a novel or a movie and seems completely unbelievable, it was entirely true.  BELIEVE ME.  In fact, to add to the unlikely similarities from a movie, the boy, it is rumored, when brought into the convent, smiled and pointed to the image of the mother Mary, etched into the stained glass window looming behind the altar of the chapel. As the rain subsided on that evening, the boy began his new life in typical movie fashion, an orphan dropped off at a convent on a stormy rainy night to be raised by nuns. On this day, it seemed, that fate would be neither creative nor original but instead as plain as white bread.

For the next 11 years, the boy served. He served the will of the Sisters. He served the will of the church. He served the will of a higher power. He was told that the higher power had blessed him with the goodness of the Sisters. He was told that the higher power had blessed him with the goodness of the church. He was told that the higher power had blessed him with a malleability of spirit, which allowed the church to mold him like a clay pot into the vessel that the higher power wanted him to be. He was also told never to question the higher power, never to curse the name of the higher power and to never, ever, under any circumstances, do anything without thinking about the consequences and how anything he does will most likely disappoint the higher power as we are all dark inside. He was told to ALWAYS obey the call of the higher power regardless of what that call details. So for nearly 11 years, he laid himself bare and plain. His mind was as blank as a piece of standard A0 size 32lb Cotton Fiber paper. His mind was as white as the sand at Jervis Bay in Australia (known as the whitest beach sand in the world). He was as dry as a fresh 3M sponge taken straight from the package (it should be noted that sponges when used for cleaning are the harborers if bacteria and fungus). In digression, he was under the complete control of a higher power, waiting to be instructed what to do or think or feel. For nearly 11 years, this was his purpose in the universe. A beacon for the higher power to convey its message.

On the eve of his 11th year, the boy was sent to town to procure eggs. The Sisters had informed him that the higher power requested that they be bathed in egg yolk (for what purpose he did not know but also did not question as that was one of the cardinal rules that could never be broken). So the boy set out by foot to the local market to purchase 108 cartons of a dozen eggs. His task would be difficult as the road was treacherous and filled with many temptations and dangers, as the Sisters had repeatedly informed him before putting him to bed each evening. “Beware of the world and all of its evils and darkness. The citizens beyond these walls know nothing of goodness and are pure evil. Never succumb to the perils of the carnal world. And also in closing, look down on anyone who does not believe in the higher power or does not serve with the passion and fever of your Sisters. For these citizens are abominations to life.”, they would say to him as they strapped him into his white hosiptal bed.  This last statement had begin to trouble the boy in his older years, as he was always under the impression that Love, above all else, was what the universe required of him. Yet, he would heed these calls of his Sisters and obey without question. So off he went on his journey, small plastic bag in hand.

Again, in typical storybook fashion, the boy met a man on the road. He was sitting in a recliner next to the highway. Odd as it was to him that a recliner was placed next to the highway and that a man was sitting in it, the boy understood it to be a sign from the higher power that this man and this recliner were part of the challenge of the day. This recliner was a message. So the boy, approached the man and asked of him, “How can you help me acquire the eggs?” The man in the recliner, how appeared to be out of his mind (it will later become clear to the boy after, (how should I put it?) a broadening of his own experiences, that the man was in fact drunk after having consumed 2 bottles of barley wine that morning. Regardless, at the time the boy thought little of this incapacitation of the man in the reclining chair and asked him again, “How can you assist me in acquiring the eggs that the higher power has requested my fair caregivers bathe in? OR Should I assume that you do not believe in the will of the higher power and are an abomination of life?” The man, looking the boy of nearly 11 years, square in the eye and said, “Son, I think you have it all wrong. Let me explain to you how this works.”

The man reached out, and like the priests of the church had, touched the boy on the forehead (what you were thinking because they were priests that I was going to imply something inappropriate?) he touched the boy on the forehead and shone a light directly into the mind of the young boy. At that moment, seemingly lasting for hours but in actuality only consisting of a brief uncountable moment of time, the boy had a shift in his mind. He no longer felt as though anything was in control. Chaos flooded his mind like a tsunami. All of his thoughts, that he was completely unaware of their existence due to the suppression system that was put into place as an infant as this was a sign of disbelief in the will of the higher power, filled every available cavern of his mind, even so much, according to the man in the recliner after being interviewed by Police, that they began to spill out of his ears. Yes, you heard me right, as unbelievable as it sounds, the boy had thoughts coming out of his ears. BELIEVE ME. This sudden wave of thoughts and ideas and realizations that life is not controlled by an unseen force that one fears the wrath of, in turn causing one to never make a decision in the fear of angering the power resulting in eternal damnation; BUT by oneself was almost too much for the boy to handle. At that moment he understood the power that his own mind possessed. He was in complete control over everything that he encountered. For once in his life he felt as though he had an amazing power. He was no longer a vessel, he the potter who was creating the vessel. He was the craftsman at the wheel. He was the controller of thoughts and ideas. He was, in his own words, a higher power.

As the paramedics cleaned themselves up from the bath of saliva, urine and egg yolk that was dripping from the ceiling underneath the Berzerk arcade game in the back of the convenience store, the Sisters looked on in sheer and utter disbelief. “How could our precious son be so unwise as to fall to the evils of the world? How could this secular devil’s den of bells and buttons seduce him so as to abandon all that he feared and loved? How could he have spent our money to play this abomination, score a very high 15 million points, throw all of the eggs that he had purchased for us up into the air landing and sticking to the ceiling and then ultimately die? Where do you think our change is from the $100 bill that we gave him?”

As the paramedics put the sheet over, what they thought was my body but was actually no body, I walked past the Sisters, $100 bill in hand, and went about living my life, never to be heard from again but always remembered as the guy who, on THAT day, in the back of that convenience store in Eustis Alabama, got the high score of Berzerk and then died.  Axel Randcastle. Born 1974. Dead 1985 of a sudden heart attack while playing the video game Berzerk.  My tombstone for all to see for eternity.  And today, sitting at Frank Lister’s desk (who has been absent for more than a week now with no trace of his whereabouts), in Philadelphia Pa on a beautiful Saturday afternoon, while no one is here in his office, except for him, Frank Lister is about to smear blood on the wall of the bathroom. Or at least that is what people are going to read.

Truely,
Ted, the Electric (as I like to be called).
 

4.01.2010

Shirtless, on the floor of someone elses apartment and I think I have been here for 3 days

Frank Lister found himself in the title this morning.  I'm not sure what happened.  The last thing that I can really put together is Monday afternoon convincing Bryce after me being convinced by Ted to meet up for an ONION that night.  I had 872 messages on my phone all from a guy named AXEL except for 1 from an unlisted number telling me he had my keys and something else I would want.  I have blood on my back (I only know this because I walked past a mirror in some strange ladys ( I assume it is a lady because a dude would not have doilies) aprtment.  I also think I am missing a toenail.  I need some time to figure this out. 

P.S. I'll explain what an ONION is later.

I want to live here