BLADE RUNNER STILL WORKS

I called in sick this week and read 18 vintage P.K.D. novels. It was a maniacal thing. Happens to me once a year. Frantic need to search through "the texts" for answers. I paused only to order pizza and change my clothes once or twice (settled on the trusty red silk kimono - truly the most relaxing thing for a fat man). Didn't even watch My Name is Earl, or Reno 911. I was afraid that their influence might dilute the serious philosophical-sci-fi-P.K.D. vibe I was cultivating. 

It was time well spent, I think. It helped remind me that I'm not the only one out there suspicious of reality. It hits me at odd times, like when I'm in one of those highway rest stops. You know, the ones they have along I90. They're decorated in a faux Adirondack Lodge motif, only if you look closely enough, 24 inch tubular ducts pipe chilled air that reverberates with muzak or easy listening favorites. At 2 a.m. you might be one of a handful of weary travellers, eating 4-hour old hepatitis burgers from Roy Rogers (does this franchise exist outside of highway rest stops?), and feeling completely alienated from the rest of the world (at 2 a.m. on the highway does the rest of the world even exist anyway?).  Anyway, back to "the texts." 

Here's a mere sampling of what I read: The Man in the High Castle, UBIK, The Divine Invasion, VALIS, Radio Free Albemuth, Flow My Tears the Policeman Said, The Transmigration of Timothy Archer, Confessions of a Crap Artist, Galactic Pot Healer, and Time Out of Joint. And, of course, Do Android Dream of Electric Sheep (otherwise known as Blade Runner). Even though I've read it and seen the movie several times, I'm still blown away by Electric Sheep. Quite different from the movie. Rick Decker, the bounty hunter, gets into this argument with his wife because she sets her Penfield Mood Machine for a 6 hour self-hating depression. He can't understand why you'd program yourself for a mood that sucks. It defeats the whole purpose of having a mood machine, he says. Well maybe I'm supposed to feel that way, she says. So it goes, Mr. Kurt says. And there's more good stuff! Like what J.R. Isadore, the "special" says about kipple (P.K.D. lingo for junk): it reproduces itself whenever no one is around. That's how come there's always more and more kipple. He lives in an abandoned apartment building and is terrified to go in the empty apartments because the kipple might overtake him.  

Anyway, after my "vacation," I do feel better. I think I am ready to return to reality, whether it's actually real or not. Maybe it doesn't matter? Later, 

Frank