"VIRAL KILLER, QU'EST-CE QUE C'EST ? part square" is the fourth episode in the story of a quirky art student and his villainous roommate who wants to destroy the world.
Today's visual inspiration comes from the Chemistry, a Vancouver artist who's been making our streets safer for creative inspiration through the concert posters he's designed around town.
Enjoy...
Dempsey stepped into the street with aplomb. He was free for a day to wander the city as the sun warmed his face in the chill of the October day. He free to not give a fuck about anything. He was free to get incredibly stoned. He was free to free others of their rat race routine.
He would get stoned and go laugh at the suits on Georgia Street racing to a power lunch. After that he would make a scarecrow version of a tourist with a Hawaiian shirt and camera slung around its neck and prop it up in front or the mysteriously popular steam clock in Gastown. Finally, he'd paint a perfect copy of the Birth of Venus on a dumpster in a back alley, then he'd...
Or maybe he'd just get stoned.
He headed to Gassy Jack's Whiskers, a local pub that was a mardi gras of drug deals everyday. If you stood by the pool table that meant you were interested in hash and you'd be taken care of by the resident hash dealer. If you wanted mushrooms - when they were in season of course - you'd stand by the hot roasted peanut machine and you'd be served by a scraggly haired South African with a dozen teeth in his head. If you wanted cocaine you'd stare at a beer stained poster on the wall of a crowd of naked people at a nudist beach. They cheered you on as a dealer approached you to take care of your needs. Or if you were simply in need of a dime bag of weed, you'd stand next to an eight by ten of the Queen whose face was coated in a beard of graffiti.
Demsey stepped into the hustle and bustle of Gassy Jack's Whiskers and made a beeline for the Queen.
A heavy set dealer put his pool cue down from his game with the hash dealer and approached Dempsey. After making eye contact he motioned his head in the direction of the toilets and Demspey started to walk in tandem with his steps to the back of the bar.
"Just a dime bag."
"Fifteen bucks."
On the television overhead a decapitated head rolled onto the floor of a sub-arctic station. Spider legs sprouted from its sides and it hobbled away.
The dealer chuckled to himself.
Dempsey put the money into his calloused hand and in turn received his green gift.
The dealer went back to his game of pool and Dempsey walked with some anticipation out the doors of Gassy Jack's Whiskers.
After a couple hoots from his pipe in the parking lot of the pub, Dempsey continued with his walk. He imagined the freedom of others. He saw wings sprouting from the sides of people's heads after which their winged decapitations flew off towards what they wanted most. A feel good John Carpenter movie.
He remembered there was something in his backpack that he wanted to get to his roommate, Cam.
With the sun on his face, he laughed at the image of people's heads taking flight.
Free.
Across the city, Cam Poppinton realized that he was missing an essential part to his doomsday machine that would mulitply his virus and send a shower of it across the city.
The city's apocalypse would be behind schedule.
Today's visual inspiration comes from the Chemistry, a Vancouver artist who's been making our streets safer for creative inspiration through the concert posters he's designed around town.
Enjoy...
VIRAL KILLER, QU'EST-CE QUE C'EST ?
Dempsey stepped into the street with aplomb. He was free for a day to wander the city as the sun warmed his face in the chill of the October day. He free to not give a fuck about anything. He was free to get incredibly stoned. He was free to free others of their rat race routine.
He would get stoned and go laugh at the suits on Georgia Street racing to a power lunch. After that he would make a scarecrow version of a tourist with a Hawaiian shirt and camera slung around its neck and prop it up in front or the mysteriously popular steam clock in Gastown. Finally, he'd paint a perfect copy of the Birth of Venus on a dumpster in a back alley, then he'd...
Or maybe he'd just get stoned.
He headed to Gassy Jack's Whiskers, a local pub that was a mardi gras of drug deals everyday. If you stood by the pool table that meant you were interested in hash and you'd be taken care of by the resident hash dealer. If you wanted mushrooms - when they were in season of course - you'd stand by the hot roasted peanut machine and you'd be served by a scraggly haired South African with a dozen teeth in his head. If you wanted cocaine you'd stare at a beer stained poster on the wall of a crowd of naked people at a nudist beach. They cheered you on as a dealer approached you to take care of your needs. Or if you were simply in need of a dime bag of weed, you'd stand next to an eight by ten of the Queen whose face was coated in a beard of graffiti.
Demsey stepped into the hustle and bustle of Gassy Jack's Whiskers and made a beeline for the Queen.
A heavy set dealer put his pool cue down from his game with the hash dealer and approached Dempsey. After making eye contact he motioned his head in the direction of the toilets and Demspey started to walk in tandem with his steps to the back of the bar.
"Just a dime bag."
"Fifteen bucks."
On the television overhead a decapitated head rolled onto the floor of a sub-arctic station. Spider legs sprouted from its sides and it hobbled away.
The dealer chuckled to himself.
Dempsey put the money into his calloused hand and in turn received his green gift.
The dealer went back to his game of pool and Dempsey walked with some anticipation out the doors of Gassy Jack's Whiskers.
After a couple hoots from his pipe in the parking lot of the pub, Dempsey continued with his walk. He imagined the freedom of others. He saw wings sprouting from the sides of people's heads after which their winged decapitations flew off towards what they wanted most. A feel good John Carpenter movie.
He remembered there was something in his backpack that he wanted to get to his roommate, Cam.
With the sun on his face, he laughed at the image of people's heads taking flight.
Free.
Across the city, Cam Poppinton realized that he was missing an essential part to his doomsday machine that would mulitply his virus and send a shower of it across the city.
The city's apocalypse would be behind schedule.
posted by kevin spenst at 12:26 PM
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