DEATH CAFE December 28th 1989.
Fourteen people arranged in a chequer board style in a
tresseled tabled room. what I mean is space/person/space
Person/space.......isolated from each others diseases

from endless repetition of hook lines designed to ensnare
the on-looker/listener Into a monalogue conversation-
" I wanted to give up smoking but Im a very temperamental
person, I thought I would gain weigtht " . As many obsess-

-lons are there are people in this crowded cafe, eyes alert
and healthy as they enter.but within two seconds they deve-B

-lop a limp listp an obsessional spiralling problem. " My  J
mother was a diabetic... .Yes you would enjoy your food   •
more.. .80 I said to them. if you' cant get that truck out of J
there Im leaving it.I cant drive that thing with bil leaking •
all out of it.... .it would cease in a .. .er.min ? What wo" J

-uld you like for your pudding? .... "some stop and begin  •
a new sentance as the old victim listener leaves but other
simply continue. Causing a massive missunderstanding
level a cut up conversation as you move back to your seat.
Insane monologues to five or six different audiences.
I get a short glance into the white room' the peacefull
death-like room seen through a crack in the otherwise per-

^

-fectly constructed cafe reality. The external cafe 'is just a
cover stoiy;the superficial realism to prevent customers
from dipping into the real goings on behind the facsade.
One of the waitresses lifts a plate of roast beef with two
veg just a little too quick and I get a look behind the sce-

-nes of theis so-called cafe.

I see a great nothingness spilling out over the floor, a sub-

- stance that I can only describe as a vacuos sucking anti-

-matter or something like that .spills out over the floor andj
a hundred of these so called customers are down on their 1
knees lapping this psychic vampiric energy with their tong'"»

-ues as they may be ghosts drinking the blood spilled for •

them in an ancient greek sacrifice.
I have to take a sip my self. for research puroses.and I f-

-ind it to taste not unpleasent- filling the whole of my
body with a cool white light void of thought and devoid

of life.

This is why they are; all there. In this death cafe.Im look-

-ing at a bearded wrapped guy looking into the window from
the outside of the steamed glass as I get into the "upstairs"
room of this place.Identical in every respact to the "down"
room but your hit with thve shock of seeing it for the first
time without the reassurance of the familar modes of perc-

-eption. without the predicable stability of the ordinary
tables chairs and people that 99% of the time are likly to
remain tables chairs and people not changing every second
of the minute like these in the "Up "stairs room .
Now.its as if a curtain has been risen on the theature set
of reality and the act is about to begin .these scenes in the
"downstairs" room are just a rehursal for the real events
that take place up here. the bit that really counts.
But unfortunatly they all stay the same as before. Nothing
is changed for faced with the ultimate choice of limitless
possibilities they are reluctant to move from the stability
of the known and they know no choice. .Imaginations that
streach no further than an identical reproduction of the
scene that was and has been acted out for as long as any
one can remember, as I said all of them obsessed with the
problems of the weather or where the next food will come
from . Cercumstances enforced from those that wish the
truth to be hidden from those that would use the knowledge
to destroy the power balence.or should I say unbalemce.
Fierce stuff, this white light this infinate atmosphere that
should not Nay cant be missed. All is possible and actions
cause results. So I get up to leave and on the way out I
approach the first person next to me. continuing a downsta-
irs conversation about the price of bus tickets and Persil
Automatic...." Have you got a spare ciggerette mate ? "
and of corse I actually get one... .gasping for a fag me.

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