VISA of Darkness

I’ve started writing a novel. It will explore 2 major themes:

1. The decline in moral values in post-Zeitgeist Western society and it’s implications for future generations
2. Chicks with big diddies

Imagine the creators of Ghandi collaborated with the team behind Porkys – a surreal juxtaposition that will appeal to readers’ minds and their crotches.

These are the kind of crazy ideas you come up with while you’re waiting for your VISA to be processed. You start to go a bit loopy. Working is forbidden and you slowly slide into the immigration Twilight Zone:

“A dimension as vast as space and as timeless as infinity. The middle ground between light and shadow, between science and superstition, that lies between the pit of man’s fears and the summit of his knowledge. This is the dimension of imagination.”

Whew, sounds a blast; so why in reality is it actually pretty dull?

Well it’s as stimulating as you want it to be. You can merrily skip along the path towards intellectual enlightenment, or trudge aimlessly through a mire of daytime television and happy hours. Being self-motivated and inventive is the key to survival; otherwise you will quickly nose-dive towards catatonic vegetable. Here’s what happens if you don’t get up before 11am:

TV Days
Using a Fluorescent marker pen you zig-zag you route to oblivion across the TV guide. Mexican soap operas and cooking shows play out the daily soundtrack of your life – an incessant hum of nothing. Slumped on the couch, cosy in your pizza stained tracksuit bottoms, the outside world plays out it’s game. You are a slave to the flat screen tyrant of mediocrity.

Happy Hours
Perched on a rickety bar stool you talk about very little to a complete stranger. The clock ticks…tocks…office workers drift by the windows munching Panninis. Little Creatures nibble on your liver, slowly gnawing away at the last vestiges of youth. Nodding bartenders, dirty glasses, bored shift workers – the landscape of loneliness. Finally, stumbling into the light, sweaty and blurred – an ode to endless summers.

OK, so I sound like Sylvia Plath on a wet bank holiday afternoon. But if you’re in VISA limbo, heed my dark tales of woe, and get your mind jogging on an intellectual treadmill. Otherwise, you may become an emissary for blamange.

Advertisement