Pale Fire

What Is Pale Fire?

“Pale Fire is not designed to be one overarching

problem, but many interlocking ones.”—nnyhav, “Realighting on Pale Fire,” Stochastic Bookmark 13.3.12 http://nnyhav.blogspot.com/

“Pale Fire is a Jack-in-the-box, a Faberge gem, a clockwork toy, a chess problem, an infernal machine, a trap to catch reviewers, a cat-and-mouse game, a do-it-yourself novel.”—Mary McCarthy, The New Republic, June 4, 1962

http://innerlea.com/aulit/paleFire/notes/mccarthy.html

So, if I may ask, what is Pale Fire? A book? A novel? A poem? A clever satire on academic research? A kitschy lit crit set-up? A mise-en-abyme story-within-a story? All these analogues are rabbit-holes—each choice will probably take us down into many different Alice and Wonderlands.

But taking all these avenues as well as NABOKOV-L into consideration, well, I tend to agree with nnyhav that Pale Fire is dominated with a concern for an otherworld or even otherworld(s):

“But underarching the oeuvre are a watermarked

concern with an otherworld (potustoronnost, an orbit

overlapping the afterlife … [I tend towards eccentric

usuage of ellipses]), per Véra, and an unflagging

dedication of the work to Véra herself (however much he strayed outside the text).”—nnyhav, “Realighting on Pale Fire,” Stochastic Bookmark 13.3.12 http://nnyhav.blogspot.com/

So where are the crown-jewels?

Scandalous Laptop Spying

POUGHKEEPSIE -- An insurance company says it won't defend a suburban Poughkeepsie school district accused of spying on students through laptop webcams.


Meanwhile, a lawyer for a student suing the Poughkeepsie school District said the two sides met for several hours Wednesday but are far from reaching a settlement.


Sophomore Johnny Jerkoff charges that the district invaded his privacy when it remotely activated a webcam to take photographs of him at home, sometimes when he was watching online porno beating off or partially undressed later on cleaning up the rather profuse seminal mess.

“No settlement can take place until the full scope of the spying on Johnny Jerkoff and the other students is fully known,” lawyer Jake Jizzjoint told The Associated Press on Thursday.

“They filmed my JUNK!!!” Johnny Jerkoff vehemently ejaculated at a recent Poughkeepsie news conference

at the local downtown YMCA.

The audience of local queers and gay activists tittered and acted shocked by it all. But secretly they were all Ogling Eyeballs along with everybody else when You Tube came out with its clandestine film feature showing the 50,000 clips of Johnny Jerkoff doing his naughty Thing every night watching insipid str8t cheap porno on his laptop every night.

The Poughkeepsie School District had chastised the parents of Johnny Jerkoff for letting him dillydally every night in front of the quickie screen. When the Principal pulled out some screen captures of the porno the kid was beating off to—that’s when the shit hit the fan.

“What the fuck are you doin filming my kid in the privacy of his own bedroom—in my own goddamn fuckin HOME!!! Your no-good Peeping Tom Voyeur Perverts!!!”

The Principal pulled out a stack of 50,000 captured webcam pics—showing graphically not only the young sophomore male misprisions of Johnny Jerkoff every night, but also what the kid was looking at.

Mr. Jerkoff was livid with rage. “You’re supposed to be Teaching my kid—not snooping around playing Big Brother in his bedroom at night!!! What about me and my Family!!! How dare you sneak around in my own Home—and then have the nerve to tell me how to raise my kids under my own fuckin ROOF!!!”

The Poughkeepsie district admits it secretly captured at least a million images through the remote tracking program, but said it did so only to locate lost or stolen laptops.

A set of six laptops had been stolen from a school gym locker room. The tracking program was left on for months, and helped identify a suspect who was later prosecuted.

The school district did not immediately respond to requests for comment Thursday on the status of negotiations in the case, or on a lawsuit suit filed last week by its insurer.

In its suit, Graphic Arts Porno Insurance Company said that costs stemming from the Jerkoff lawsuit are not covered under its personal injury policy with the district.

The insurance company’s stance, if upheld, could leave the district responsible for litigation and any settlement costs.

The district has admitted its policies about when to turn the software on and off were lax at best. In fifty thousand image capture cases, the program was left on long after students reported they had found their lost school-issued laptops.

At a school board meeting this week, school district lawyer Harry Hooker said there was no intentional wrongdoing by the district, “but clearly those million trackings should have been turned off earlier.”

Johnny Jerkoff argues that he never reported his laptop missing, and doesn’t understood why the program was activated.

In a court filing, technology coordinator Valery Voyeur argues that Johnny Jerkoff had damaged or destroyed two other school laptops by jizzing all over them, and failed to pay the required $55 insurance fee for gumming up the laptops. He therefore had no right to bring the laptop home, or any expectation of privacy, Valery Voyeur’s pushy lawyer opined.

The Jerkoffs, in their lawsuit, have zeroed in on Valery Voyeur’s actions, accusing her of being a nefarious pedophilic sick disgusting “voyeur” and demanding the right to inspect her personal laptop to see if she moved or hid or deleted any of the student images from it.

Especially any images of Johnny Jerkoff intensely masturbating or doing what he was really good at: doing that infamously shameless, nasty “sixty-nine” routine, going down on himself & getting himself off.

Haltzman reiterated Thursday that he cannot entertain settlement discussions until he reviews the contents of her home computer.

Valery Voyeur, one of two employees authorized to ogle with the tracking program, has said she refused to answer his questions at her deposition in the civil suit, invoking her Fifth Amendment right to avoid self-incrimination.

However, she has said in television interviews that she cooperated during an interview Wednesday with the authorities, which are investigating potential wiretap violations, and said there is no reason she should have to surrender her home computer.

Valery Voyeur “vehemently denies” downloading any pictures of students, her lawyer, Charles Cheesy, wrote in a court filing this week. “Mrs. Voyeur is not a voyeur,” the filing states. “This scandalous, malicious and abusive attack on Mrs. Voyeur’s character, in essence labeling her a sexual deviant, is false, outrageous and without any basis.”

THE MARK OF CAIN

The Mark of Cain

 __________________

“And the LORD said unto Cain,

Why art thou wroth? And why

Is thy countenance fallen?”

—Genesis 2:6-7

I fucked him every night—I couldn’t help it. I fucked him to death—and got him good. If I hadn’t done it—nobody else would have. He didn’t have any girlfriends—he didn’t have any boyfriends. What does a couple of red-blooded young guyz do anyway—when you’re all alone there in the Garden of Eden?

I got him loaded—I got him high. I got him drunk—I got him day and night. I was good at it—“Murder, My Sweet.” I got him on weekends—I got him to whimper real nice. I got him to faint—I loved the way he banged his head against the Tree of Forbidden Knowledge.

Afterwards, I’d help him back through the Garden—limping down to the river Lethe flowing with the verdancy of primordial cummings and goings.

Fucking him the way I did—it wasn’t easy for him. It took everything outta the poor kid—down to the last fuckin drop.

I’d steady him by the river—he was so weak in the knees. His obscene inch-long slit made him—piss in the riverl and piss on the ground. He couldn’t help it—he was so loaded and out of it. I helped him tho—holding it gently from behind.

I took it seriously—young brotherly love. Even though later—it sadly became male fratricide. He was 16 and I was 18—both of us were doomed East of Eden exile boyz. The Queer Genesis I’m talking about—aint the Genesis you’ve read in the Bible. It’s a heartbreaking soap opera—that renews itself with each plucked Forbidden Fruit.

Abel was my cute young brother—everything about him was more handsome than me. We were both lonely boyz there in the Garden of Eden—and that’s why I was obsessed with him. Call it incest if you want—but what else could God expect?

I was just a white trash boy—I was evil Cain, my mother Eve’s first offspring after the Fall. The Devil made her do it—the Devil made me do it too. I had the Serpent down between my legs—just like Adam did.

But where were the Women—the cute chicks of the Garden of Eden? I was in love with my own kid brother—I was obsessed with my perverted Family Tree. Was I str8t or queer? How would I know until my own young slinky Eve showed up?

Eve was our mother—but we had different fathers.

Adam was my father—but then there was this awful divorce. Then Eve shacked up with this handsome young alto sax player stud Snake—who played at the popular Eden Garden jazz nightclub. He fucked her good day in & day out—and my brother Abel was the result.

Eve ditched both Able and me fast—she had better things to do than be a mother. She had other more important things on her mind—like having fun and living it up with the Snakes. Her family was wealthy—her father a rich Lethe Lakeshore attorney and businessman.

So Abel and I ended alone there in Eden on Ocean Drive—in a swanky apartment on the top floor of The Carlyle. That’s how we grew up—a couple of stoned Art Deco bon vivant Eden boyz down by the beach.

All of Abel’s brains—were down between his legs. What else could a guy do—with 10” of meat in the basement and a faggot older brother who desperately craved his nice fine tight little ass?

We go cruising in a slinky Cadillac convertible—a nice big long slinky baby blue ’59 road hog. It had big chrome tits in front and a sleek pair of garish shark fins whooshing in back. I kept him to myself all the time dontchaknow—I didn’t share him with any of the Snakes. Can you blame me?

Sometimes I fucked him fast—sometimes I did him slow. Sometimes I strangled him to death gently—other times I used a big violent vibrating dildo. Sometimes I dragged it out for a long time—other times it was awfully fast, down and dirty.

It wasn’t pretty or sophisticated—doing the down-low. Teenage dick-homicide never is very chic or sophisticated. I sprained my neck I don’t know how many times—doing my daemonic kid brother down there in The Carlyle in Miami Beach.

When Abel got to be sixteen years old tho—well, he’d had enough of my whitey miscegenal incest urges. He got tired of me & bored with it all. That’s when he said he was gonna sign up and join the Navy—just to get away from me.

That’s why I offed him—my kid brother Abel. Gawd, how God and all the Serpents—were pissed off at me. They branded and tattooed me—with the Mark of Cain.

From then on I was cross-eyed—and harelipped. And I had this awful lisp to deal with—and this terrible mince when I walked down the street. It was Double Indemnity in Reverse—I regretted it the rest of my miserable so-called life.

The Secret of the Serpent 

God got pissed off at the Serpent for seducing Adam & Eve to taste the Forbidden Fruit in the Garden of Eden.

God punished the Serpent by turning the Serpent into a Snake down there between Adam’s legs. What could be worse than to be a Dick forever!!!

To be covered up and hidden from sight. To snake around down there and lurk forever in dirty shame? To be a victim of Naked Ape urges—forever despised as nothing more than a Dick with Two Legs? 

 

But the Serpent was one of God’s most sneaky and wily creatures. Even though it was enslaved down there between Adam’s two legs—the Serpent tried to take advantage of Adam.

“Even though God said you shall not eat from any tree of the Garden…” the Serpent was saying to Adam one fine day in the Garden of Eden.

Adam stood there dumbfounded. Sensing he’d be cursed for generations and generations—with this Genealogy of Evil Meat moiling down there in his Groaning Groin forever.

“You still don’t get it, do you, Adam? You fool,” the Serpent hissed to his hapless Host.

Adam couldn’t believe the Serpent could talk. Not like another human—but more like telepathic messages beamed from his reptilian medulla at the base of his brain.

“We’re married now, you Fool? For better or worse. You ate the Forbidden Fruit and woke up to the whole game. God queered you good forever and ever—now I’ll haunt and rule you forever,” said the Serpent with a smirk.

Adam wasn’t that smart. The Serpent-Dick was smarter. And the Serpent seemed to know what he was talking about—a Same Sex Marriage down through all of Time. They were conjoined now—as Man and Dick.

“Yes, dummy Adam—you’ve got the true ultimate Tree of Good and Evil. Gnarled down there—lurking in your grungy Groin. You’re the big horrible godforsaken Secret—on this forsaken Forbidden Planet called Earth.”

Adam was simply shocked! He stared down there at the writhing Serpent hidden underneath the Maple Leaf. “Surely it can’t be true. Who the fuck would believe anything that a slimy Snake would say anyway?”

“But it’s true Adam,” the Snake hissed. “The Garden of Eden was made for you and me, baby. It’s a Prison Planet for Pricks like me. Just look down here between your legs, Adam—and what do you see?”

Adam stood there naked—looking down at himself. It was a horribly ugly Anaconda—a cruel uncut Cobra coiling and uncoiling down there. He had no control of it—it was a Monster of the Id.

“I’m the big bad Root of the Tree of Good and Evil,” the Serpent hissed. “I’m the Forbidden Fruit itself. Because Earth is a Prison Planet—for Interstellar Pricks and Gangster Galactic Cocks like me. Comprende, kimosabe?”

Adam shuddered and started getting erect for some reason. The Serpent-Dick had a life of its own. He felt self-conscious and embarrassed. All this attention he was getting from this nefarious Serpent creature.

“Yes, my dear Adam,” the Serpent said. God punished you for tasting the Forbidden Fruit—but he punished me even worse by imprisoning me down here between your legs. A Prison Penis Planet of Awful Pain and Exquisite Pleasure—from which there is no Escape.”

Adam was erect all the way now—all twelve inches of him. It was grotesque and huge. It did look like a Serpent—it was a Serpent!!! All of a sudden the Fall made sense—like Nuts falling from an Oak Tree. Adam felt himself losing it—the Serpent was beginning to shoot Adam’s runny Brains out.

“My gawd,” Adam said God. “To be the Snake with Two Legs—to be haunted the rest of my life with this Serpent down here between my legs. Stuck on this forlorn Forbidden Planet of Naked Apes—ruled and dominated by Alien Dicks!!! I’m fucked doomed for sure—doomed to be nothing but a Dick Head!!!”

“Now you’re getting the Big Picture, dummy,” the Serpent said.

Adam could feel it—all the way down to his toes. All the way from his Reptilian Brain nestled under his monkey cerebrum. Down to his alien retro genetically engineered Dick—slithering down there in the primitive Jurassic Schlong Pubed Jungles of Hell!!!

Adam felt weak in the knees—covered with sweat. He felt a wave of sickening Skull Island King Kong jizz—started to ooze like a Snake outta him. There wasn’t anything he could do—falling and sliding around down there on his knees in the weeds and crabgrass of the Cursed Garden of Eden.

The Serpent just smiled—this was his Curse. Not to exist in a Prison Planet of pain and suffering—but rather to go spaz in a Prison Planet of Uncontrollable Undeniable Pleasure. No bars, no jails, no penitentiaries—it was a Prison Planet of primitive, fabricated Erotic Pleasure.

The dumb Naked Apes like Adam—they were the unknowing, unsuspecting Prison Guards and Wardens of the Prison Planet. The Prisoners were Alien Rebel Revolt Penises from Mars and Sirius—both coveted and despised by their Monkey-Brained Hosts. Hidden from sight—down there in the darkness. Moiling about—causing oodles of male and female trouble. Oozing generations of it—the cursed Genealogy of the Gods!!!

It was the Perfect Penal System—the ultimate reproductive, economical, cheap way of managing Interplanetary Bad Seed and Interstellar Bad Meat and Galactic Bad Biology. Beautiful Innocent Earth—a Blue Marble Orb up there in the Sky.

Prison Planet Earth. That’s where they put the Bad Guyz—the ones that deserved to be Dicks the rest of their Lives. Whether uncut or circumcised—whether small & dinky—or huge and well-endowed. They were all doomed to Dick Heaven and Hell—whether they knew it or not.

“You’re fuckin crazy,” Adam said. “You’ve been watching too many crummy Science Fiction Movies!!! Nobody would ever dream up—a scary Scenario like that. Not even Philip K. Dick or George Orwell!!!”

“Oh yeah?” the Serpent said, pushing a little DNA button in Adam’s head.

Adam was 18-years-old—but he was still having wetdreams at night. Even though he fucked Eve like crazy—and fathered a couple of no-good worthless bad boyz. Both Cain and Able were Eve’s favorites—but Adam despised his wiseass chicken offspring.

But this time it was a real Mother-Lode Nocturnal Emission—right there in fuckin broad daylight for anybody to see. It was so strong that Adam fainted—falling down to his knees and then going spastic and unconscious. Shooting his brains out down in the dirt and weeds.

Adam had this incredible acid flashback—going back into time. Back to King Kong and Skull Island—back to Fay Wray screaming her head off. The Alien Prison Masters—had designed the Prison Planet way back then. Back in the horrible humid Jungle Jurassic dayz—of Dinosaurs, Pterodactyls and Mosasaurs.

And then after the Triassic-Jurassic Extinction Event—the Alien Prision Masters downscaled the Prison Planet and minaturized the penal system to make it more streamlined and svelte.

They genetically retro-engineered the the Big Lizards down to Lounge Lizards—but kept the Jurassic jizzy aggressiveness with the enlarged prison medulla oblongata. The medulla oblongata penitentiary is where anger, jealousy and aggression were kept bottled up from the rest of the worlds.

So that the Serpent inmates were designed now as more sleek, streamlined and elegant creatures—stylishly ensconced down there in their Abercrombie & Fitch pokey-dot shorts to house them in their new deceptive Prison disguised in vanity and stupidity. Cheap, efficient—and totally sublimated into continuous never-ending prison genealogy of Dickhood in the Dungeon.

Young Adam was stunned—what a horrible Revelation!!! The Garden of Eden setup. What a conniving Con-Job—a Prison Planet in disguise!!!

The Serpent didn’t say anything—it was still busy shuddering and oozing itself outta Adam with each last squirt or two of Jungle Jizz shooting outta his Naked Ape Parasite Prick. 

Adam looked down at himself—totally and completely horrified and disgusted by it all. Conjoined to a slimy Serpent Thug—a crummy sneaky Convict Cock from Gawd knows where!!!

Adam couldn’t help himself though—he was conjoined and married to this Piece of Bad Biology. Condemned to be a part of this ongoing cursed Homoerotic Nightmare—ruled by this ugly Gangster Anaconda for the rest of his so-called life.

“How could this happen to me?”—Adam cried out to Gawd. “Imprisoning me with this Killer Cobra—this Penultimate Prisoner Nightcrawler Worm?” 

“Don’t be silly,” the Serpent said. “It could’ve been worse. Gawd could’ve fuckin used his DNA genetic expertise to turn me into a gross-looking Geoduck down there between your scrawny legs instead. They’re probably the most ugly clams that God ever created—so incredibly gross and absolutely disgusting!!! I know you’ve seen them there in Seattle—down there at the Pike Place Market?”

Adam nodded—he knew it was the Truth. It could’ve been worse—a lot worse. The Serpent could’ve been turned into huge gross grimy greasy Geoduck—coiled up down there in his crummy cursed Groin.

“Oh Gawd!!!” Adam said—“It could’ve been a lot worse that’s for sure!!! Jaysus christ!!! Eve would never leave me alone—with such a slinky slimy Schlong like that!!!”

UBIK

eUlysses

“A thought-entity—

like Ubik”

—Philip K. Dick

Exegesis

“The cleavage—

is complete”

—William Carlos Williams

Spring and All

________________

riverrun — past eve and adam

from swerve — to shore

to bend of bay — brings us

a commodius — vicus

recirculation — back to

howth castle — and environs

apollonius  of tyana — hermes trismegistus

that which is above — is below

universe — as hologram

according to — pdk’s valis

the tasks above — the flasks below

sez the emerald — canticle of hermes

solarsystemized — seriocosmically

more & more — expanding universe

rhymeless reason — original sun

a thought-entity — like ubik

had it ever — occurred to me that

the written pages — had a life of their own

they themselves — decided

to come to me — deciding to come

and deciding — to depart?

was i aware — of the incredible

deviousness — of language?

eUBIK

                                           Kostis Tzortzakakis

eUBIK

How does one fashion—a book of resistance?

A book of truth—in an empire of falsehood?

Or a book of rectitude—in an empire of vicious lies?

How does one do this—right in front of the enemy?

Not through the old-fashioned—ways of writing?

How does one do it—in a future technological state?

Is it possible for freedom—and independence...

To arise in new ways—under such conditions?

Will new tyrannies—abolish these protests?

Will there be new responses—by the spirit?

That we can’t—anticipate? 

—Philip K. Dick, Interview

Only Apparently Real

UBIK

UBIK

“I AM Ubik. Before the universe

was, I am. I made the suns. I made

the worlds. I created the lives and

the places they inhabit; I move

them here, I put them there. They

go as I say, they do as I tell them.

I am the word and my name is

Never spoken, the name which no

One knows. I am called Ubik, but

That is not my name. I am. I shall

Always be.”—Philip K. Dick, Ubik

I sprayed the kid with the can of Ubik.

The shimmering, palpitating vapor, filled with particles of metallic light that danced nimbly, formed at once around him. He disappeared, concealed by a nimbus of radiant, energetic excitement.

The vapor slowly condensed—puddles of it glistening on the carpet and down the wall. The wall drizzled with streaks rotting the wallpaper.

Then puddles of it gathered on the floor, saturating the worn out and dingy carpet. Ubik was doing its thing—revealing what had been disguised from me.

The cloud evaporated—and then there was this adolescent boy. Mawkishly slender—with an irregular set of bedroom eyes beneath some heavy eyebrows.

On his elongated face I saw a smile—but it was misshapen with a thwarted crease that became now almost a jeering leer.

He seemed only half-formed—like most teenagers. But his face had this convulsing, throbbing, snake-like motion to it. Like there was something beneath it—like his face was just a mask.

He was malformed—a deformity thing. It wasn’t just male hormones twisting through him—his face didn’t harmonize together with everything else. His chin was too sharp—with a deep chisel mark in it. A cleft obviously penetrating deep into the bone—as if he’d been fractured or split apart at birth.

He jeered at everything—especially me. His fingers writhed, a twitch in his throat making him stammer. He was literally shrinking in his own flesh—undulating with aversion by the grossness of his own body.

Hardly managing to conceal it—regarding me as something to devour and eat and consume. Like he’d done to all the other telepaths and precogs. Like he was going to do to me—I was the last one to go.

I raised the can of Ubik and sprayed him again. He disappeared—but that was easy for him. I was inside his Kipple dream—I knew that now. I wasn’t in the mortuary coffin either—supposedly in “cold-pac” like the others.

The others had been sucked dry—what life force they had was long gone now. Runciter’s corpse was in another room with his wife—the Jory creature had left them there. They were off in some Kipple zone for now—slowly regressing like you’re supposed to.

Runciter, my boss, was still regressing—like his wife. Or was he? Was I the one in “cold-pac”—or was he? Was Runciter dead? While me and the others were still alive?

When Runciter finds the coin—with my face on it. That seems to me that—he was in the phantasmogorical world of semi-deceased “cold-pac” just like me.

What did Runciter mean when he said that—he suspected that this was "just the beginning” of something? A Jory-like alt.welt? An alternate double-world—like The Man in the High Castle?

Actually, I wasn’t sure of anything in the world anymore—not that I could call “reality.” It’s possible that we were all dead and in “cold-pac”—or was it that the Kipple half-life world had taken over the full-life world?

On the other hand, was it possible that we were all alive and dreaming? Even the Jory creature—who I thought was the villain of this whole noir scenario?