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Mike Philbin’s surrealist CUSTODIAN and TANDEM novels – book trailers – exclusive excerpts
here are the two book trailers for the 2013 anti-corporate-war adult-content-surrealist Mike Philbin paperback novels CUSTODIAN and TANDEM, together with short excerpts from each.
Ready?
But first some anatomical facts:
A flayed adult human being will only give you about two square meters of usable surface area, but if you extrapolate that sorry total to the volumetric potential of a dozen human beings, you’re talking about a six-sided cylindrical volume that could occupy an entire family, or two. You could accommodate the non-uniform scaling of bones like rafters across a ceiling. You could appreciate the potential of twenty-four retinas covering the inner and outer surfaces of every wall. You could visualise the complex and volumetric mass of the upper and lower bowels where all the fruit trees, vegetable patches and fungus could grow. Water (in the form of rain flow or direct cloud harvesting) could trickle in from expanded pores in the cornea-like windows and roof of such a floating home. Energy could be drawn from the sun and pushed through agglomerated capillaries, flying surfaces could take all sorts of forms; there are many ways to get a mass of organic matter into the air.
But we’re giving away too many suggestions; that’s not how this should go.
No one suspects that the sound system has been spiked with liberal amounts of subsonics, causing a curious groin-loading affect among the attendees, adding to the gravid state of their loins, spurring on their fervour; their need for each other. Standing waves are being set up such that structural blueprints can be orchestrated around the subsonic three-dimensional forms.
Tribal Foundation, that’s where we’ll leave the slathering pornography of this party’s climax. We’re going to interrupt the sleaze with a final announcement and here, finally, is the big cheese himself James H Willemsen to ring the closing chorus.
At the height of the party’s sexual zenith, an opulent pollen-like musk smogging six distinct genetic groupings de- Sadeing in their respective areas of the Christchurch courtyard, Willemsen gets back on the mic, coughing for attention before firing up his freelance baritones and encouraging the Guests Honourable to take note of the motion for a second, trying to get some sort of unity going, some sort of knee-jerk spontaneity.
BUY CUSTODIAN IN PAPERBACK.
And it was like he didn’t hear, instead he rattled on about, “Currency, because that’s what we are, works in this way: the more dreamers are hooked up to the game, the more you’re worth to the game. If you can stay alive.”
He undid his left sleeve then, rolling up the off-white material to revealing the plastic-melted skin of Niki Lauda and then I saw it, his pain. Horizontal lines carved across the flesh of his teen immolation. Thick deep slug after thick deep slug lying side by side showing years of pain.
“I’m awake,” he said, rolling the sleeve back down, “Most people are not. I capitalise from my knowledge. Hence my wonderful financial portfolio, my ‘empire’, that your Company kindly manages for me. Only a handful of people know what I’m about to tell you. And by only a handful I mean, ‘We are the directors who tell the consumers what to buy, what to sell, and when’. If a war somewhere in the world will stabilise a portfolio, we make it so. If a professional insurgency is needed to sway the direction of an outcome, we can fund it. It’s always been the same ‘us’ all along, through history, whether we’ve known we’ve been a part of it or not. We’re the shaman, the druids, the belief makers. We have oceans of humanity at our behest. If we play the dream game well, we are graciously rewarded for our efforts. But you can’t find us in the history books. We don’t (officially) exist. Just like the G3 agency. Just like the CUNTs.”
He drained the lukewarm dregs of his herbal tea, then said, “It looks like you’re killed. I mean, it looks like you die every time you’re In Theatre. We have no idea how you do this. I mean, why should we, it’s not our Need To Know. That’s why your ‘ear infection’ cleared up as quickly as it did. You didn’t forget about the ear infection, did you? That’s why there’s not a mark on you, despite the hundreds of missions you’ve taken part in around the world. You were probably on a mission in France, or wherever you were sent by Your Company. You see the military keyword there, ‘company’? You ‘did your thing’, got killed. You probably re-wrote – do you know what this means?”
BUY TANDEM IN PAPERBACK.
Source: http://mikephilbin.blogspot.com/2013/11/mike-philbins-surrealist-custodian-and.html
