Coming soon


***The Life & Death of Cory Enkel

Cory Enkel, the name:

1/ carbuncle; 2/ corny uncle;

3/coy barnacle (on the ship of progress);

4/(Scandanavian): solitary, alone, or mere.


This is the true story of a man who wants to die.
Everything he does in life accelerates him towards this purpose.
He is however, completely unaware of his goal until reaching the end.
Enkel is a living monument to bad faith.

He believes he is of superior intelligence:

Ein Ubermensch,

Musically gifted! (When he's actually tone deaf),

And could do anything better than you, if... he put his mind to it.

Enkel's a well-practiced Pablo vom Steppenwolf.
His favorite book is "The Gollem".
He sleeps precisely half his life away.






I first became aware of Enkel's mythomania through acquaintance with its spouse: paranoia; having remarked one day, with concern, his inappropriate reaction to the following document. It had been sent with an airline ticket, by a charming lady, sixteen years his elder, from Europe, who was hopeful, despite a difficult start, of gaining a place in Enkel's heart. They had briefly met before she'd taken her plane a few weeks earlier... One date was all they'd had time for; but Enkel had arrived five hours late, without having signalled his impending delay. Nevertheless, she was a bright and desperate soul, whose family life had just been shot to pieces, and above all, a digital artist, who preferred to wax lyrical about l'amour, rather than cut her wrists. So she made a short film that caused her best friend to weep with joy, and sent it to him in the mail. It looked something like this:



Days after receiving the tape, Enkel is terrified. He is sure she intends to lure him, Mr 33 de Gris, across the world, in order to have him slaughtered by four (no less) Masonic assassins, who would apparently be following behind.



"But hey, wait a minute..." his flat-mate said. "Why pay for the five airfares? Couldn't she just have you shot in your bed? It'd be cheaper mate".


I had to agree...

Cory sat bolt upright however, eyes flashing at first at the thought of the bloody attack at midnight, but then flicked on the video and began to read her words again. His face contorted a little as the inner dialogue evolved. What was the risk factor? He seemed to be terribly drawn to the image she was painting of him, as he mused over each line.

"A sugar mum? ", he muttered: an idea he'd later make the mistake of sharing with her.

She was inviting him, Cory Enkel, to Paris.

To live it up, or die? He'd never lived with a woman before...



"Many young hopefuls have shown up today as casting begins for the role of Cory Enkel. This lad attempts Enkel's signature wake-up cycle."


Camera testing now for the role of dream persona:

33 de Gris


Cory Enkel agrees to play the lover. He thinks for a while about sweet nothings, and then sends V the following reply to the many emails he has been receiving from her:



Cory: "don't freak... in still moments we are alone in eddies of timelessness and the RAPTURE of the reliquery...". 


She wonders what exactly he means by that, and replies quirkily, playfully, tenfold...


Cory my love, yes RAPTURE, that's a good start, but not in the reliquary.
It's a wee bit stinky.

How about if I wait for you in your dreams of paradise?

I'll be the one who makes the wings... V.


She was definitely starting to talk the talk... and how she could talk!

"I could actually make an artwork out of this!" she thought.


My dearest CockCoryCo (ha ha),

 I was just talking to a mathematician about the OLIPOU poetry group here in France. Then I wrote you this little poem, in full knowledge that I was misappropriating the style for my own naughty little purposes. Oh well, shoot me if you must, but please make it with a litre of Cory Cola...V

She showers him with media offerings, but he doesn't answer much. She hates his frequent fugues, but trys to make the best of it when he shows up again, with one of his opaque one-liners:



On Thursday, March 6, 2003, at 06:46 PM, Cory Enkel wrote:

Cory:    ... to crawl... to walk... to run... to dance... to fly...


On Thursday, March 6, 2003, at 06:46 PM, V wrote:

V          The one (luxury) liner that inspires me to sail away with you.

             When do we get on to the high coos?


There is 1 attachment:


Cory: i feel u feel...


V:       Indeed we do. Here's something for you to play with.

           Back and forward looping is really quite good.

           Much kissing, licking & imbibing of your sweet scent. V


There is 1 attachment:

A week passes before he responds.



Cory:     back & forward would be delicious rite now...

V:          A delayed, brief, but quality response, my sweet prince. Dense with

              longing... Exactly what I needed to hear. I kiss you all over Cory Enkel.

              Your taste, still tingling in my memorybuds, will not dissolve... V


V          .....Boo boo boo. I got zilch from you to-nite.



A week passes before he responds.


Cory: beg pardon for delayed response, immediacy utmost proliferation...dreams of mirrored phrase...your smell...sleepless...

V:         .Wow, you are exciting me babe. Memories of you are flooding my... 

              I think I'm ready to oscillate with you right now. We've got to see

              each other quickly, one way or another. If you can't come here in April,

              I'll come back to you. We could go somewhere quiet and dreamy.

              I think the temperatures could well mount over the seasonal averages.

Cory:    My lips are yours.


No more responses during final countdown.




Cory (mildly irritated):

"Yes? Whadya want? I'm packing. I've got to leave for the airport in 2 hours"


"I know. I just wanted to make sure you were awake honey. How's it going?"

Cory :

"Yeah... look, I can't talk right now. I've got heaps of things to get ready."


Cory missed the plane, and failed to contact her regarding that minor detail, for about 30 hours. To this day, it is unclear, even to Enkel, what happened during that period.

The news, when it finally comes, makes her angry. She's invested seriously in this freak, both emotionally and financially, and he's now acting like he doesn't want to come to the freakin' party.
"Go to hell Cory!" she thinks, and decides to bale out now. To get her revenge, she'll tell him to find a taxi ...and a hotel, when, or if he shows up.


She goes that night to see one of the two suitors who had passed by the other week, both at exactly the same moment - which was unfortunate - with the sole mission of persuading her to rester en France.

Unfortunately, with all of the anti-depessants and alcohol the ex-student is imbibing, it turns out to be a case of flogging a dead horse.

And it had been a bad idea anyway. She didn't want to fall in love with another French man, because that would mean she would have to continue seeing her husband with his new lover. Her idea was to get out of Dallas.

V attempts to take control of her emotions. She doesn't like any of her options but she can't go it alone.

Our hero is therefore not left lying in the lurch. In spite of her anger, V feels that she can't stand Cory up, after having invited him to a foreign country.


"I will not allow my behaviour to degenerate to his level: a promise is a promise..." she says to herself, "and anyway, I've gone this far; I might as well give it a try. I'll never know what I've missed if I don't, and my only alternative is solitude".


She has to make an all-round trip of 700 kms, to pick him up at the airport, now that he's 3 days late. When she arrives, he's standing there in front of the terminal, looking very seedy and gaunt. Before he spots her, she has an urge to duck down behind the nearest parked car, but then, too late...



           "Hi, how are you?"



Hugs, with her dodging him slightly


           "The car's this way..."

Turns, heading for the car. He stumbles after.


           "Gee, you look different.


           "Yeah, I've been sleeping the whole way.


He stinks to high heaven, and his clothes all smell of mould. She has trouble kissing him.

They go to her house, and she leaves almost immediately to go back to work in another town, glad in a way that she has no choice in the matter.


Two days later, she returns, to find that he has been living on nothing but porridge and water. She decides to feed him, wash his clothes and fuck him.