Black Audio

Black Audio

    Quizzle talk, the language of Galdor, my raven friend is how I'm getting rich.
I make mad brain beats and instrumentals to his eerie haunting vocals serenading
the subconscious of my unsuspecting listeners who peruse my free music web page
and foolishly download and listen to my subliminal commands, generously augmenting
my Paypal account through exotically coerced donations. If you dancing to my
shit, you paying me for it. Right Galdor? Quizzle talking genius!
    I don't feed the raven. Nature dictates the creature gather his own
provision. But I do let him slurp on that Kool Aid laced with that Hennessy
drank, coughing up a fury, knocked out drunk. Silly little raven. Perpetrating the
funk but still pass out drunk. Get your liquor game up. As for me, I
don't ever partake of the liquid intoxicants. I'm sober as a saber-tooth.
Sharper than barbecue sauce on burnt chicken. And it's time to go
downstairs and have tea with my landlady. She has the best almond cookies
I ever had the pleasure of tongue fucking. My tongue loves to fuck.
    I greet her at the door with expectation of almond tea delight. She sits me
near her kitchen window, pouring me a cup of hot green tea freshly brewed.
The late morning sun light breaks into a rainbow dance enhanced by the
suspending gourd-chiseled crystals adorning the solemnity of the room. She pours
herself an infusion of raspberry-lemon black herbal tea, regretfully
informing me she is out of almond cookies-- handing me a packaged
fortune cookie instead. Disgust clenches my anus.
      I voice dismay as she sits staring at the dancing rainbows on the wall.
Green tea has always put a calm continence on my unapproachable wrinkled brow.
And green tea and almond cookies make a perfect pair. But not today.
I'm very strategic and focused for no reason, but it has served me well in
social settings where violent temptations of free enterprise are being
auctioned and weighing on the minds of ambitious entrepreneurs contemplating
their dexterity for crime against my fortitude to ruthlessly defend my fortunes.
And this ain't no Quizzle talk. This is one lottery ticket you don't want to
scratch.
    Her tea cup half way empty, she breaks her fortune cookie. The snap is so
controversial and crisp my eyes close in a revelation of ecstasy. The steam from
my cup subsides into cowardly vapors. I watch her eyes glance and glow on her fortune.
She puts the white strip of paper down smiling to herself as if she just read a love
poem from the universe. I tongue dip my tea. Sip it and sigh. She crunches like punches
and gets metaphysical. We discuss the causal temporality of quantum landscapes
affected by the fluctuations of harmonic oscillations from multiple standing
waves. And how black holes could possibly be infinitely accelerating spinning
standing waves, spinning so fast they augment the mass and transform the structure
of light, thereby stretching space to new limits.I tell her I am working on a
new brain beat called Black Audio.
    Intrigued by my new discovery she unwraps my fortune cookie with a smile.
Curiously I crack it. The fortune boomerangs out, bouncing on the table.
We both chuckle in amazement. What a clever cookie! It's blank. My fortune
is free. I eat the cookie and leave. I take my blank fortune with me to my apartment.

    I lie in my bed looking out the window at the black orb in the sky wobbly
approaching. It's Galdor. I open the window and let him in. He fluffs in drunk
smelling of piss and liquor, quickly Quizzle talking about how he'd been hoodwinked by
a cunning crow over some sesame chicken and saltine crackers. I told him too
many times about them double talking back stabbing cackling derelicts. He nods
in agreement.But he never learns, seduced by their promises.I run to get him
some water. He does arm-less jumping jacks as I return.
    I set the cup down and he drowns himself in the refreshing change of mood.I
sit at the computer, mastering and remixing Black Audio. I put the mic to his
direction and push record. The Quizzle talk tapers into mind altering brain
orgasms that leave me questioning the structure of my sanity, and the realism
of my reality. Almost dreaming. Almost not being. But astutely perceptive. I
stop the recording. It's too much too handle. I have safety concerns about
publishing it on the internet. What if they get so mind fucked they won't be
able to come back.
    Galdor holds my fortune in his beak. The blank white contrast against his
black-as-night beak creates a magnetic vortex in my brain, zooming in on the
markings that weren't there before.I must be hallucinating, but I don't do
drugs. I just make music.What are these gray markings?
    I bring the fortune to my eye. Strange, encrypted gray markings. Galdor does
not know what to make of it. I sure as hell don't know what they mean.They don't
look like anything contemporary Earthly. Perhaps a misprint at the factory. Galdor
raises his wing and a joint plops out of his wing pit on to the table. Why on Earth
would you bring me weed? I don't do drugs!I open the joint. It's only tobacco.I wrap
the tobacco and finish Black Audio. I stare at the mp3 with trepidation. This is
not safe but it'll make me fucking rich! Galdor dances the running man shuffling
into the James Brown foot slide wiggle, scuffing and scratching the table.
    Nap time!

    Still drowsy and a bit dizzy. This day has been a little strange and it's only
a little past afternoon and the sun is bright as bats.I check on Black Audio.
There's still some work left to perfect. But Galdor has left. I put the tobacco
and fortune slip in my jeans pocket. Hungry like a hooking hurricane I lace up my
black boots and zip up my purple and black striped track jacket.
    I offer to take my landlady out to an early dinner. She invites me in and I
show her the fortune slip. She looks carefully at the gray markings and swore
she has seen something similar. I assure her that the thought will come to her, just
let it go for now.
    My landlady is a mature woman in her mid 40s. Caucasian, light baby blue eyes and
naturally white hair. She has a baby's face so why is her hair white? I don't know
maybe she got struck by lightning.She lives alone.She inherited the property from
her late husband. She has no pets and her only daughter, who is around my age, never
visits her. I often ask her how she handles the loneliness. She tells me she never
feels alone. And she enjoys my company. She feels comforted and happy knowing I live
above her and always pay the rent on time.

    We walk three blocks to our favorite Asian fusion restaurant, Wok You Up. Where
they'we will wok you up and throw away the soy sauce.' The waiter places us a
in the back near the kitchen entrance behind two push doors. The aroma of charred
meats mingling with burnt syrupy sauces and the clanging and clinking of utensils
in a garble of all Asian dialects ever known to man makes you feel in proper business and
your appetite will not be disappointed.Asians don't play when it come to stir fry.
    My landlady asks to see the fortune. The waiter brings us two glasses of iced
water and straws. He squints curiously at the weird markings on the slip and goes
back to the kitchen. He comes back with deep fried won-ton crisps and two egg-rolls with sweet
and sour and teriyaki sauces.We discuss more theory on black holes and my
concern over Black Audio. Something's just not right about this piece of music. It
could be fatally dangerous.
    She advises me when in doubt, DON'T! The waiter brings our plate. Sesame chicken
for me and seafood noodle stir fry for her. From his shirt pocket he pulls out two
fortune cookies. I refuse mine and offer it to her. She pushes it back. We all have
to accept whatever fate deals us. The waiter refills our water and serves other
diners while we enjoy our meal.I take my fortune and my new fortune cookie and stuff
them in my jean pocket.
    We depart the restaurant with our cartons of carry-out leftovers, walking back the
three blocks in the dimming orange glaze sunlight, casting lively shadows of the trees and
buildings and automobiles and birds and people being about their business, meshing
into one another in eclipses below our feet.So much depends on a shadow in its right
place. When a shadow exists on its own, who can stop it?
    It's time to find out.

    I light the tobacco joint in a brass bowl on my slightly opened window. Smoky
incense of romantic boldness lingering in the air, melding with the nostalgia of a
bowing ballerina sunset. The smoke escapes the room and ascends sincerely to join
her atmospheric ancestors. I put my ear buds on and lie down on the bed. I press play
on the portable MP3 player laying on my chest.My eyes shut fearfully. The six minute
Black Audio kindles me abruptly. I tingle like ice crystals within the first three seconds.
I have crafted something remarkable. An anomaly of acoustic evolution. This brain beat,
really knocks your brain out.And it's definitely not for sale. I will not allow it. I
have deleted it from my computer. The only copy exists in this MP3 player.
    The fluid in my spine trembles and hisses, shooting floods of lightning arrows that
oscillate between my rectum and skull cap. With electrical crisp clarity, I comprehend
what the gray markings on the fortune slip in my pocket allude to.A map made of sound.
    I drift deeper into trance, evaporating into an epiphany. A revelation of a darker
more subtle aspect of light. If water is light, this is akin to steamy vapor.My mind
is not regular, it is bent. Completely detached. My body levitates above the bed.
And the singing in my cells are swelling in sync with the crescendo of the music in
Black Audio.Every atom in my body has become dark to the world, renouncing all allegiance
to any natural or scientific laws. Their naked sovereignty erases the existence of my body
from the Earth in fluttering ripples.Black Audio self-deletes.
    My physical body silently disappears forever.

    I awake to blank whiteness every where. I feel no arms,no legs, no heart beat and
no breath. But I am moving, faster every second? I see all around at once, spherical
vision. But I can also maintain vision at a focal point through effortless concentration.
What am I? I am deaf. Or there is no sound. There is no sound in space. I'm in space
and I'm not human.But I'm alive-- and dead? This is horrifying but I have no nerves
or body to panic with.And I'm accelerating in a definite direction.Resistance to the
pull is ineffective. But what the hell is pulling me?
    The Triskelion!
    A group of three black hole singularities clustered together. But there is an opening
in the triangle of their conjoining. A flaw that might save my life. I must
maneuver through this neutral hole and pass through unscathed. This Triskelion Maneuver has
never been performed before. One mis-step and I'm Quizzled fucked. But I'm one lottery ticket
you don't want to scratch.
    Bring it. Bring the beast. Bring the barbecue.
    As I crash into the colorless space-wrinkling Triskelion event horizon,engineering a
direct path through the triangle I am appalled and relieved to find that I am MASSIVE. Not
only will I not fit through the triangle, I mammothly overshadow the Triskelion. I am an
engulfing leviathan.Some kind of ancient star being. It isn't the Triskelion that was pulling me.
It is I whom they gravitate towards.I am the object of their apocalypse.
    I know I too will be destroyed in this pre-cosmic collision.All the life in me will
shatter into uncountable pieces.I am Quizzled fucked for good.

    Fuck it! Bring the barbecue.

    What happens when Yang meets Yin?

    The Big Bang begins.