May 4, 2006
berlin I: berlin?
Early on in the voyage, Boy Vane had an alternate trip in mind. And so, in the entries below, Berlin becomes more than a city; it slowly builds from a delusional few days in the boiler room to a dangerously strange Weimar world of the mind …
BOY VANE: My Dear Fruity Friends—I have decided not come on your little left-wing voyage. Instead I’m moving to a cold dark apartment in east berlin where I will compose infinite versions of my only love “isn’t there enough love in the world already” and pray for the return of the cold war as I think about you thinking about me—GoodBye, Vane
SKIPPER NOLAN: I’m quite sure we’ll forget about you when we have to take over your infinite duties as Engineroom Brewremastering, Administer of Prokrastinator Chalices and Absinthe Goblets, Grand Hallucinogenic Pastry Chef and Whipper of Narcotic Pancrepe Batter, Minister of Mirror Hanging and Hangings In Front of Mirrors, Tennisfishing Umpire, Galley Crustacian Races on Butter Coated Twister Map Netwizard, and Purple Velvet Cloak Inspectailor.
VANE: Fine, have it your way. I’ll come then … No, I’m not coming!! Why won’t you leave me alone?—Tennis Fishing Umpire? Tell me more!!!
Vane isn’t heard from for days, and so the Barge ships off without him. Then, on our second day at sea, a strange message from one of the holds below:
VANE: Friends—It’s good to hear from everyone, I’m glad your voyage is going well. It’s good you left-wingers got out when you did, you deserve to live a long and happy life at sea. I’m making a lot of progress here in Berlin on my 13 versions of “Isn’t there enough love in the world already.” Today, fighting erupted in eastern western europe, and the fuel supply lines are severely strained. It’s cold and damp in this apartment and I don’t have enough to eat except for one peace of vermin a day. A rat has chewed off my calf mussel on my left leg as I did not have enough energy to beat him off. I’m also struggling with a bout of sisyphus. Oh I feel inspired , again!! What a sight it is to behold, The Beauty of The End!! Wish you guys were here!!—Love, Vane
THE MAJOR: Poor Boy Vane. He has no idea we have him tied up in the boiler room of the Escape Barge.
SKIPPER: yeah, when he dropped the tea kettle on his leg and Dr. Flanger and Dougie poured two of Jimbo’s iced Chopin bottles on it, they also anesthetized him with the Halloween candy (which apparently gets stronger with increased humidity) and ducktaped him to the jellybed in the boiler room with an iPod that only had six outtakes of the german version of ‘Heroes’ and 4 takes of his own ‘Isn’t there Enough Love in the World Already.’—The wood and beer are both dark and strong down there too, so it’s an easy mistake.
VANE: Great things are happening for me in Berlin. Last night some neo-fascist youth broke into my apartment and beat me. The air is filled with the most wonderfull smell of rotting flesh. I feel more alive then I have ever before, now that I’m quite sure of the coming end of human civilization. Oh God haow great is the pain. How alive am I right now. Here comes version 8.—Love Always, VANE
It is during this time that the Barge, in yuletide bliss, slips off the written record, and we are left only with the solo adventures of Lance Scepter as he navigated the Mescaline Seas, as documented here. When we finally awoke, fixed some nutmeg daiquiris, and read over what had happened, we found the following:
SCEPTER: Thank, Zeus. Everything is okay. How, I don’t know. But I’m alive. In Berlin, which is odd, sitting here watching Boy Vane compose, and compose and compose, over and over and over. But, the terrors have already begun to vanish from my memories. Those poor souls left within the flames of Kentucky.—I can’t wait for Karaoke Bingo, whenever I get out of this Bavarian Paradise.—Lance
THE MAJOR: Somebody has to enter Boy Vane’s dream and rescue Lance!! Who dares volunteer for the Escape Barge Psychic SWAT Team?
VANE: Regulations, Smegulations. I only regulate. I cannot be regulated.
THE MAJOR: Ah, but Richie, it’s largely your smegulations that offend. Perhaps a little more regulation and a lot less smegulation, and it would hardly matter which bikini you chose.
VANE: You can’t regulate Love.—I want you all to think about that.—Here’s my new slogan for rallying against the Conservative ant-gay campaign: “Deregulate Love”
The story of art qua art, lilies as accessories, and Boy Vane in Berlin continues with the Rescue AttemptRescue Attempt
Posted by dougrice at May 4, 2006 2:55 AM