Author Archives: Samuel Maguire

Resume

The year is well into sci fi. Internet scams now include houses on Mars. They turned The Hobbit into a zero player videogame. I saw Tony Hawk stumbling around on a hoverboard because his ass old now.  I been writing around since declared Not Able but Money People want me to get a Real Job. Apparently it is nigh time I returned from outer space and put the mission of the sacred heart on hold so I can make coffee for some arsehole who is angry about how many metal discs he has to cough up to get kilojoules.

 

Ancient Work History

 

Male Staff

KFC

Early 2007

 

Responsibilities:

Covering colleagues for weed breaks

Beatboxing

Making that gross ass waste gravy

 

Skills Acquired:

Stealth Vomiting

How to ask for lunch breaks

Complete resistance to burn injuries

 

Sandwich Artist

Subway

2007-2008

 

Responsibilities:

Secret drinks fridge police/main offender

Food Court soundtrack

Every damn thing

 

Skills Acquired:

Caffeine

How to be one of gang

Made a sandwich so bad there was a picture on the internet

 

I tried to get into the air force about here but it turned out Warrant Officers hate exactly people like me. Dodged several bullets.

 

Student

QUT

2008-2010

 

Responsibilities:

Public Transport

Gandalf sleep with eyes open thing

Attending (didn’t)

 

Skills Acquired:

Keeping my damn mouth shut

Beer

How to bullshit

 

Sandwich Artist

Subway

One day somewhere in 2009 I think

 

Responsibilities:

Way Too Many

 

Skills Acquired:

I quit as soon as I was further than yelling distance from the store so nope I guess

 

Disabled

My house

2010

 

Skills Acquired:

Beer Weight

How to be cool with hallucinations

Killed it on fallout

 

Muse

Gumtree

That really weird week in 2010

 

Responsibilities:

I was supposed to have conversations(?) with this real intense American dude and maybe travel the world and shit

 

Skills Acquired:

How to realise that is probably serial killer

 

Wrote Website (Should have learned what that is called in uni)

Startup Genetics Company/High School Friend who had too high an opinion of me

2010

 

Responsibilities:

Advertising

Explaining

Yes I Know What I Am Doing nods

 

Skills Acquired:

How to hate advertising

How to hate stereotypes

How to hate 8am

 

I don’t remember like any of 2011

 

General Writer

My House

Always

 

Responsibilities:

Write things

Hope

Stress

 

Skills Acquired:

Too self-deprecating for this section

 

Sorcerer Technically

My House

Dawn of Spacetime

 

Responsibilities:

Not much

I give a lot of wise advice if that counts

 

Skills Acquired:

Fencing

Diabolism

Elemental Manipulation

Divination

Astral Projection

Nothing Useful

 

Also I gave my number to three different record producers who wanted me to be in a band but I am pretty sure now those guys were just hitting on me so no dice there

 

Possible Career Opportunities

Glam Rock Frontman or any kind of President

Bouncer at medieval themed bar

Normal people things surely

 

I do weddings

The Well

She says don’t speak to me of the well, and shows me

Her house, the colour of sun-bleached brick and wiped clean beige counters

Wedged into the coast with many, no beach line, houses half sunk

 

The top, unlucky level thirteen, cold dread rationed from above

A maze of bedrooms, torn butcher’s paper loud in the wind

Drawn through the crawl in and die spaces, she’s slept in them all

 

At the bottom a stair, a basement, a cupboard, a breach

An earthen shaft, lousy with wet

The ocean counting in waves, flushing us down

 

Light stained by brown water, a rise and then a dip

And then dry clay too deep for roots

A line of memory a long way back up

 

I see the well, below

I see hellfire, horn crowned lords, the classics

But I don’t understand

 

She says

Don’t speak to me of the well

It goes deeper still

You see the top

 

She says

You draw from the bottom

You dig forever down

You are well past the sight of others

 

She points, wings, chains, blood and iron

 

Says, these are things like any other

They are solid, make sense

 

You do not need the rules to be real

 

Hell is where the fire comes from

And there is fire here to burn anything

A Way From Home

Don’t look into my eyes or you will see

How long I’ve been gone

That I can’t remember where home is

 

Don’t read me

I am not finished

And my words are wrong

 

Don’t dig me up

I am not buried

I can still breathe

 

Don’t point me the way

My eyes will wander

I will get lost

 

I do not know

If you will wait

 

I do not know

What will be left

 

I do not know

If I will remember when I see it

 

But I promise

 

The tide will bring me back

 

And the wind will point in your direction

 

You will see me take those last few steps to your door

 

I will breathe the air I know and have no more miles to tread alone

 

The hours I missed will be gone and nothing

 

When I make it home

Chosen

Weird kid you’re gonna need to learn. Nobody is going to teach you what parts of your education are wrong. Your parents will try their best if you are lucky and you will end up standing on their mistakes until you make enough of your own to realise it never mattered whose fault anything was. Trusting to the government and the plotted line is going to get you nowhere forward because the whole place is run by idiots exactly like you. Weird kid you’re gonna need to work things out.

 

Hours:

Life goes forever and you will forget all of it. Relationships will last until you have gotten drunk and dug up all your lies, created an entire new music collection and fucked someone else. Grudges are not useful.

You were also an asshole in high school.

Get pissed off if somebody throws time is short/live in the now/plan for the future bullshit at you, it will help you think harder.

Time is messed. You will spend weeks trapped in a moment. In the dark you will travel backwards through every part of your life until you are a scared animal. There is no way to tell which one of your prophecies will come true.

It is best not to think about it until you find the right album.

 

Bullshit:

It takes a stupid amount of friendship for anyone to talk to you in a voice other than the one they use for all the other vaguely ape-shaped noise makers that fill the background.

If your parent’s told you the reason that they tell you that they didn’t do drugs it would be a more convincing argument but you would still probably do some drugs.

Anything that a person in a movie/song/tv show/book/comic/giant picture/uplifting video tries to convince you is a good idea is designed to make money.

Money is exactly a bunch of numbers someone you haven’t met has decided is important and will make damn sure they keep track of for you. It is how many meals are between you and stealing to eat. The more people it is spread around the smaller the stupid decisions that can be made with it.

Everyone’s personality is buried under a heap of mental. You will see it if you keep eye contact until they are uncomfortable or if you spend enough time digging through their shit. People’s bullshit includes music/television/movie/reading tastes, language choice, means of income, living arrangement, circle of friends, clothes, haircut or anything done as a means to scrape some individuality out of the pile of humans. None of this is important, you can dig through any amount of a person’s shit and forget what it smells like as soon as you see them cry. Most of your relationship with anyone is going to be non-verbal and mainly shaped by how long you spent the last few hours with them.

 

Secrets:

Everybody has seen some shit that they will not talk about. If you don’t start out short and full blown crazy then you will be watched closely. Grown men will die psychic until we make ourselves robots. People have been pointing fingers and making wild eyes since we figured out how to yell at each other.

You will get no help with secret things. They are yours. Each person has their own god, even if they read it from the same book. We all have our own ways of bending our universe. You are born with your body already working and you will die figuring out why.

This is the important bit.

 

Stars:

Weird kid you are going to need a dream. Fuck off the disney songs and drink those stars from your eyes. A good portion of the population want to kill themselves. If someone tries to crush your hope fight for it. It is survival of the last one left alive.

You are going to have to make the reason why things happen to you. You are going to have to starve yourself for something. You are going to need a rope to hang on to and you will need your last gasp of air.

You are supposed to be your own chosen one. There are 7 billion people that don’t know what they’re doing and need at least one person who’s got their back. You only use 10% of your brain for making bad decisions. Destiny is a result.

 

Weird kid you gotta work things out. Everyone has their own universe to save. If you don’t make things important to you then you will spend your life sleeping.

Weird kid your thoughts are just thoughts. Sometimes they are words, or numbers, visions or voices. If you thought like another person you would be a different animal. You will remember the thoughts you need when the time is right and you will unload the ones that are too heavy on friendly ears. The rest could have never happened.

Kosmic Blues

So I finally checked my emotions and got the memo that love is bullshit. Everybody knew this already which makes a lot of sense now you fucks. Here I been getting misty eyed and planning speeches while everybody is pretending like a regular person and bouncing around like hot rabbits.

Invented by bacteria as a sex part magnet, love is a tool used by the wicked to trade people, property, wallet sizes, tiny people and bodily fluids. It sells exactly one song, rocks and uncomfortable clothing. It gives you the classic “look over there” while it drains your bank account, precious lifespan and enthusiasm for doin it.

And now society has shoved its gross ass love all down my throat and got me feeling like half a person just because I ain’t making some poor lass deal with the slow heat death of my anxieties. If I don’t make a girl like me with lies and haircuts, somehow figure out what comes next and then marriage I am not doing my part for the overall mass of the human population.

If it were up to me I would jump this train wreck, deal without text politics, frown conversations and the dramatic soundtrack. I would take my lonely island in a sea of booze thank you.

But the songs are already my favourites and my nerves got me too big of a heartbeat and what I’m really trying to say is that I’ve had that god damn Janis Joplin song stuck in my head for three days now and I can’t afford to buy a plane ticket to move somewhere foreign and marry her ghost.

Hard Season

Summer is a hard time when you have a wrong brain. Conversations get heated at 45 degrees. Sleep comes in fits and spurts and long vivid nightmares that leave your head and bed sheets swimming in scare-reek. The sun burns holes in your vision and then worms crawl out of the holes and you have a bad time. The only relief is the biblical storms that wash the land clean of filthy rage and poorly parked cars. If I had any sense I would cut my damn hair and wouldn’t have to deal with it but whoop here it is already and shutup I love my hair.

 

Notes to self next summer:

 

Do not even look at a human before 10am.

 

Do not watch tv you will be angry.

 

Do not go to a shopping centre you will be angry.

 

Do not walk too fast down a footpath; you will get stuck behind a couple and have to follow them at an uncomfortable distance until there are no obstacles stopping you from overtaking and you will be angry.

 

Do not ever try and have a girlfriend right now.

 

Do not be angry at your friends there is no reason like why.

 

You are not any kind of chosen one and you are barely smarter than most people.

 

Demonic possession is not a real thing and even if it was I am pretty sure it wouldn’t happen regularly unless you had done something wrong.

 

Do not feel like an alien for staying out of things and not going to parties. You are not an alien you are just hot.

 

Do not worry if other people are worried; that is a very normal thing for a human to be.

 

Politics has always been bad.

 

Come up with exactly one new life direction/moral crusade/big idea per day. Medication will forget it for you.

 

When times get tough the tough wear shorts, drink cold drinks and sit in the air-conditioning.

 

Spend some time in a forest and do not leave cigarette butts there.

 

You will probably not write anything for a good month or two but that is ok that does not mean your career/life/the world/all hope at any chance of joy ever again has ended. You should probably just sleep a lot instead.

 

Chill out; your subconscious has got you until the weather cools down and you stop being a gibbering sweat-beast with a hard-on for throwing things that are won’t break or make enough noise for people to ask you questions.

Warp

Things don’t seem the same.

Sunday afternoons feel like the last day without fail.

Monday is a new world that has always been.

 

Tomorrow I will be new again.

I will not know the difference.

Here for sixteen hours and then someone else.

 

You can change things with your mind.

History, destiny, reposition the universe in relation to you.

It sounds crazy because I am crazy, but listen.

 

I kind of knew from the onset it would get this way.

That I would have to react in kind.

That the world would get thinner, stretch out,

 

Warp

 

I would change things.

See with my eyes not my mind.

Stop the walls moving.

 

I would change things.

Speak with my mouth not my eyes.

Hear more than just music.

 

I could change things.

A new set of chemicals and things will be different.

Not heal but change.

 

Things will change.

My happiness depends on more than the season.

I can control it when things

Warp

Truth Serum

I met a woman at a bar before the next step.

I bee-lined for the door. Didn’t look at the gap I had to cross. A problem for tomorrow or never.

She saw me and offered me the spirits that the bartender had long left behind.

She was a good listener and slightly older than me. Taken several steps ahead and stopped where I was.

She called me tiger and it did not make me feel bad.

I was twice as honest as usual because she was also trying to get me drunk. I told her things I will regret.

We talked and heard each other’s steps. Tried to figure out whose journey was hardest. Neither as always.

She asked me what I did and I said it was very complicated and looked like nothing.

I asked her what she did and she said she worked from home.

She asked me what I wanted to be and I said that is a good question and got more drunk.

I said when I was young I wanted to be an inventor. Make new things. Not to help people or make things better. Just things that I would enjoy.

I said when I was young I wanted to be a storyteller. Hijack other people’s imaginations. Play with their feelings, make them happy or sad. Make them feel ok for one more day. Make them tear themselves apart and become something else. Make them vomit with fright at the world around them.

I said when I was young, but older than I would admit, I wanted to be the messiah. Miracles the whole shebang. Wanted to be humanity’s last shining hope, sacrificed on an altar for the goodest cause.

I said I wanted to be a good person.

I asked her and she said she wanted to be an actress and poured me a drink.

I downed it and said

I am not a good person.

Nobody is. It is just chemicals and thought patterns and bullshit.

She said yes it is.

I tried to drink out of my glass but it was empty.

I shook my glass and said that I get all first year philosophy on these.

She said she feels like a first year in everything.

She said we can be truthful we have both been drunk before and we are the last two standing.

I said falling and fell off a bar stool.

I looked up at the roof and the top half of her sat down in my vision.

I said can we stay on the ground and she said yes that is ok.

I said I feel lowly and she said yes.

I said I sold my soul to the devil and I think it was because I don’t feel I deserve it.

I said I can stare down the lord of hell but I don’t know what to do with that.

I said I can’t stop speaking in riddles and bullshit

I said I say thank you in another language because it feels like a cussword to me.

I said thank you for putting up with me.

She shuffled, lay next to me. My heart beat faster as always.

We were quiet.

She said I have seen many go past and I know you.

She said you may not recognise me now. She said

Sometimes I am a worm. Feast on dirt and let it flow through me.

Sometimes I am a malice. A pair of angry eyes floating in hell.

Sometimes I am a well. Bring up only what I need.

Sometimes I want a happy home and simple life.

Sometimes I want to kill people.

Sometimes I want to be a chain reaction. A small stone that brings down a mountain. An image to shape the world in.

Sometimes I want to be the only one.

Sometimes I am an extension of somebody else’s will.

Sometimes the universe revolves around me until I am dizzy.

Sometimes I am a husk.

Sometimes someone else owns me.

Sometimes I am a good person.

There are many of me.

There are many of you.

You cannot be lonely even if you try.

Everyone’s chemicals make them feel wretched.

Everyone’s brain is what makes them feel pain.

You will feel this hangover.

Cheer up tiger.

I said that I was going to sleep on the floor.

She said you can do whatever you want and stood.

I said that I would be asleep for a while.

I said you should move on in the morning.

She said maybe she would maybe she wouldn’t.

I got nowhere better to be.

Star Gods

There are only a few of us left on The Kronos now. Most of the pod bays were destroyed by the fire in the common room. We stopped talking to each other after the fire came but we stopped trying a long time before that.

The fire came through the wall. Torched the place and all but four of us. We locked ourselves in different parts of the ship and localised the radiation shielding. When we die we come back in the same med bay but we still keep to our separate areas for our lifetimes.

My pods are heating up so I get moodier with each new life. When I am born I get the meds dispenser to synthesize tranquilisers and then usually make a mad, 50% fatal dash across the burnt out husk of the common room, to the drinks dispenser I reprogrammed to synthesize vodka 2 years and 4 months into the trip.

We passed the limits of the universe many lifetimes ago, though lifetimes have been short lately. I haven’t seen what the universe looks like yet; the fire guards the entrance to the observation deck vigilantly. I stopped trying to get up there when the ash of my own bodies started hindering my movement.

I decided to go out over three days of drinking. I thought very little during that time. Or I have very few thoughts that I can remember.

Day 1 I spent punching things and trying to ruin my temporary hands. The walls of The Kronos have impact dampeners on them so it just made me feel stupid and angrier.

Day 2 I was still and silent, moving only to drink or scratch my chin, stinging eyes staring at the hull.

Day 3 I wanted to go home.

I brought up a memo in comms. There were a lot of numbers on the previous message so I didn’t bother working out how long it had been since I last spoke to the others.

I knew one of them was a girl I had 565 three day relationships with, one of them was a guy who I had only beaten once in our many fights and that was because I used scenery, and the last one programmed his pods to make him nineteen and scrawny and kept to himself from the start. The message system only showed channel numbers so I didn’t know who was who.

 

CHANNEL 1:  Hey guys I don’t know if you still check this but I am just letting you know I am going out. I thought you should know.

CHANNEL 1: Someone should know.

CHANNEL 4: OK

CHANNEL 2: message me when you get back

CHANNEL 1: Nah I am going out going out. I am done. Venting all of me.

CHANNEL 2: what are you ok

CHANNEL 1: haha

CHANNEL 1: I am tired. I want a new job.

CHANNEL 2: but who knows what will happen next

CHANNEL 2: dont you want to see how far you can go

CHANNEL 3: Fuck Man

 

I shut down the forum. Nursed my foam cup of pretty much ethanol. Paced. Opened the door to the common room.

Heat blasted my face. The room was blackened metal and smoke blanketed the ceiling. The vodka made me stride. I reached the centre of the room. The soles of my shoes stuck to the baking floor. Fire stared at me from the entrance to the observation deck and I stared back. I turned and spilled vodka on my hand and made my way to the med bay.

My pod room was almost a degree hotter than it should have been. I didn’t read the technical readouts but I could tell because of exposure.

The room was wide and dark. Like a big meat locker. The pods hung from ceiling from clear, organic umbilical cords. Hundreds of me at varying ages lying in colourless and odourless gel. All bald, all smiling because of some drug in the gel, designed to make them less scary to look at.

I brought up the burn password entry. The buttons moved around the touchscreen to avoid accidents. I mistyped three times because my hands were shaking. I downed the rest of my cup, coughed, bent over, spat. I breathed out and made my face go blank. I pressed enter.

The clear casings to the pods turned red, filled with steam. The bodies started thrashing. The pods swung around, knocked into each other. I heard a high-pitched whine. The bodies sat up almost in unison. They screamed, eyes open. Turned to fire and then smoke. The pods shrivelled and the steam vented up through the umbilical cords into the roof. I took more tranquilisers.

I had to flush myself out the trash vent. It has been a long time since I had an ego. I disabled the fail-safes on the vent and climbed in three minutes before the automatic purge. I climbed in with a drink to go out with but I spilled it straight away. Vodka pooled at the bottom of the vent and filled it a chemical smell.

I spent minute 1 humming the tune to The Great Gig in the Sky which made me sad for minute 2 so I spent minute 3 banging my head because I didn’t want to go out crying.

The computer said “Auto-purging” and I felt my heart drop. I was outside of The Kronos.

I held my breath. It wasn’t cold. I spun and saw The Kronos, saw fire and smoke in the viewports of the observation deck. The space around it was thick black. I couldn’t see my arms and legs. I spun and saw the universe.

Two cones of light spread upwards and downwards, getting further out each second, intersecting at the thinnest parts in the centre. The light wasn’t like the glowing dust of galaxies and super-clusters; it seemed liquid, thick and constantly swirling, spreading out and flinging stars out into the void.

The centre flared. I saw a figure in the light, made of fire and something else. I felt its eyes, a line of awareness stretching across what seem like too short a distance. It spoke. I heard roaring as its voice incinerated galaxies but its words came to my head with perfect clarity.

“We are far flung you and I.”

“My universe reaches far beyond what even I can see.”

“Your thoughts stretch back past your memory to the dawn of your time.”

“We see each other but we are not only made of light.”

“We know each other, even in this small amount of time.”

The voice got further away and the words took a long time to register in my mind. My lungs hurt from holding my breath.

“We are lost at the centre of our universes.”

“Each new distance we reach spreads us thinner.”

“We fade away.”

”We become something else.”

I breathed out and then in. My body spread out. I became a cloud and then a gas and then something thinner. My mind flung back and out into the void. I became something else and The Kronos flew on into forever.

Vortex

When I was young I made friends with the wind

It seemed like a Good thing to do

When I felt the wind on my face I felt better because it was my friend

My friends are getting further away

Taken by the wind of the storm in my mind

Flung out by gravity as my world spins

I don’t speak as they fly

The gap grows larger

My reach is getting shorter

I never want to be a burden

Never want to be a chain or a charge

I want my friendship to be free and freely given

I would give and ask for more

Do anything to get out of the centre

Fly out with my friends and forget

I am responsible

My silence is the one that is deafening

But that doesn’t mean I know how to

Stop