Here it is the long awaited DwN act 5!
Written by someone who wishes to remain anonymous with original performance documentation photographs and illustrations by Bristol based illustrator James Wilson http://jameswilsonillustration.com/
Unfortunately thethreewisemonkeys.com are dicks and wont publish it anymore and the writer can’t possibly be fucked to finish writing it. Despite these annoyances Dancing with Nietzsche has been an enjoyable ride and a fresh and authentic approach to documenting performance art through the medium of Gonzo Journalism. I hope you’ve enjoyed reading it as much as I have.
A tear fills my eye when I think back on that faithful weekend when Bear was still a Bear and drinking excessive amounts of alcohol and acting like an out of control ignorant pig was a sufficient life style.
For now, here is the final installment of Dancing with Nietzsche. You can view the saga in it’s entirety in the “page” section of this blog.
Enjoy and remember, don’t try this at home!, do it in a hotel instead.
Act 5: End of the Night
“Soju is a filthy animal.” – Anon.
I squinted into the gloom, trying to make sense of the room which we had found ourselves in. As my eyes slowly adjusted to the darkness it became apparent that we were in a long space, consisting of undecorated walls and rough, hard floor. There was no furniture and only bare wires trailed from where there should have been light fittings. A foreboding cocktail of fear and curiosity ran up my spinal column as beads of cold sweat rolled down my back. I turned and looked behind me, into the whites of Bear’s eyes, as they stared into the darkness. I had a strong desire to turn back but I abruptly found my legs were moving by their own accord, bringing me deeper into the space.
I could hear Bear’s feet clumping along behind me; as we made our way towards the other end of the room a murky, low red light became apparent. I could not see our surroundings any better, but as we reached the opposite wall I could make out a corner, around the corner of which the source of the red light appeared to be.
We rounded the corner and stepped into a smaller room. The concrete floor was littered with detritus, broken chairs, a legless table, books with their guts ripped out, broken light bulbs, burnt bedding, every single detail awash in a blood red light. The scene was complimented by the most revolting stench to have ever entered my nostrils — something along the lines of rotting meat marinated in battery acid. The stench quickly filled my nostrils, choking the oxygen out of my lungs, as nausea washed over my like a tsunami of mountainous proportions. My stomach churning, I wheezed and staggered, tears filling my eyes. The room fell out of focus. The beat of my heart boomed in my ears as I fell backwards.
In darkness I felt eyes upon me; eyes from the past, every malevolent glance and leer that had ever been shot my way, suddenly resurrected. I could feel them, swarming around in the shadows, staring out from the void, preparing for the kill as I lay helpless, sinking into the floor.
A bright white light filtered through the tears, two shapes born from the confusion, slowly coming together. Two forms with arms and legs, floating in the air. I blinked, soju tears tumbling down my cheeks, the figures coming into focus. On the left was a tiger, fashioned from some sort of coarse fabric, colored a crude orange overlaid with black stripes. On the right was a Bear, possibly made from a scrap of dirty sack. Together they bobbed up and down, blind button eyes staring at nothing, their stitched mouths frozen in disturbed smiles. String trailing from their limbs led my eyes upwards to a set of perfectly smooth finger tips attached to hands which were the color of dead white fish, washed up on a barren shore.
The fingers moved with expert precision, controlling, directing, and orchestrating every move. Beyond the finger tips I could make out a jaw line, a pair of ever so thin lips curling into a smile. As the lips peeled back row after row of perfectly formed razor sharp teeth were revealed. A pair of black eyes glistened in the dark.
I heard what sounded like a door slamming shut. I was upright, leaning against a wall, bright hospital lights blasting into my retinas. I looked down at my right hand to see a bank note clutched between my fingers. A hallway faded in and out of focus as past memories began to bubble to the surface. Stumbling down neon drenched alleys in the heart ofSeoul, cackling hysterically as I descended the stairs of another basement noraebang. Standing on a street corner, bent out of shape in the throes of another chemical fantasy at the edge of dawn; focus returned as I lurched forward out of an elevator, following Bear as he stumbled down another corridor, bouncing from wall to wall, clawing at closed doors as he went. I tried to focus as Bear stopped and started doing something to a door handle. I found myself holding onto a window frame next to a door, trying to grip onto some semblance of reality. I looked into a darkened room and I could make out a figure lying in the middle of it. I swung around to face Bear, brandishing the bank note between my fingers.
“I dare you 10,000 won to tea bag him…” I heard myself say.
The bank note disappeared from my fingers as I collapsed beneath the window. My gaze finally settled on a white ceiling as I watched a pair shoes above me disappear through the window above. I closed my eyes as a scream erupted from the room.
A chisel through the top of my skull, straight into my brain.
A ragged silhouetted figure came into focus, blackened against a fiery orange glow. The ember of a cigarette flared and a cloud of smoke wafted upwards. I struggled to prop myself up on one elbow as the figure turned to me, its face obscured by the shadows of the room.
“The police are outside,” a voice said. It sounded like Bear’s, yet broken, confused, distorted, like he was speaking under water.
I could hear other voices, far off, yet audible and slowly getting louder. I could now see I was in a hotel room, but not one I recognized. Through the window I could see the sun emerging behind the endless mountains, a brutal water color beating me back into consciousness. Glancing down I discovered my chest was covered in semi-dried vomit.
Broken glass and splinters of wood covered the floor and the smell of something burning filled the air. The remains of a rice cooker were strewn in a far corner, an unidentified gloop covered the ceiling and ran down the walls, pooling on the floor; a small pile of fire extinguishers sat next to where I had been lying, which must have been the source of the white dust that seemed to cover everything in sight, including me.
Bear’s words began to take hold. The police were outside. The voices outside belonged to the police. My mind attempted to race for some kind of solution, but instead stalled over and over as I tried to remember how to stand up.
“Is there…an air conditioner? Maybe we can climb into…” I heard somebody say.
Bear’s silhouette said nothing, simply placing another cigarette between his lips, holding a lighter to it and sparking it in a rather unenergetic fashion. I tried again to stand up and collapsed into a heap. Bear threw the lighter across the room and stood up. He began stumbling around, amongst the debris, searching for something.
“We should hide. Under the covers,” he mumbled.
I blinked and tried to process this suggestion. The police were ready to storm up the stairs, kick down the door and haul us out to be publicly crucified for all manner of criminal deviancy, which although I could not remember I was almost certain we had committed, and our solution to this predicament was to pretend to be asleep. I knew this plan wouldn’t quite work some where along the line, but I couldn’t quite place my finger on which particular part was not going to pan out. Instead I just nodded my head, slowly and painfully, listening to the vertebrae creak and crack as I did so.
“Yeah…let’s do that,” I said.
I rolled over, grasping at some soiled and still smoldering bedding, dragging it over me as I turned to face the door. The soju hangover was in full effect; I felt like I’d been eating sand whilst banging my head against a brick wall and inhaling the chemical dust the blankets were covered in was not helping in the slightest. The voices became louder and I buried myself deep beneath the covers.Blindly reaching out I hugged my hand around the squat stomach of one the fire extinguishers, bringing into the darkness with me. Caressing my hand down its cold, hard body I intimately clutched hold of its trigger, taking the nozzle with my other hand. While I delicately felt my way around its perfect curves I discovered the pin was still in the trigger. I ever so tenderly and slowly pulled it out, as angry Korean voices and heavy footsteps grew louder.
I peeked out from under my sanctuary of fabric. The door was painted in a strange twilight hue. It looked strong, impenetrable, like it could withstand a thousands blows and a hundred more. I hugged the fire extinguisher to my chest, I wishing I could fall back asleep in peace and never wake up.
I bolted upright, pointing the nozzle of the fire extinguisher towards the door, gripping the handle and beginning to apply pressure. A vicious hissing sound began to erupt from the guts of the fire extinguisher. The door handle rattled up and down. The door burst open in a shower of splinters and I squeezed the trigger hard.
To be continued…