Thursday, April 24, 2014

NOIR. 3. And Stars, Ringed

This is a series concering the Blue Sky Black Death's music album NOIR.
It ties in with the happiest moments of my life as it was there to witness them.
I would like to help you see the images I see whenever I hear the songs.
Some of them feel very real, some of them are more abstract.

"The Seeds"

A slow breeze was constantly finding its way into my relaxed nostrils. It patted my skin gently with generosity and grace. It was really nice of it, I thought, and I found myself quietly thanking it for such an attention and care. Not to mention it was keeping me alive as well. What have we ever done to deserve this selfless service? Probably nothing. Thanks anyway.

Having lain on the comfortable bed of grass for hours I could’ve sworn it was my favorite activity in the entire known universe. ‘Maybe because it doesn’t require any activity?’ I wondered while I continued to lie on my back, facing and staring into the endless ceiling of matter and antimatter above me. ‘And what about the unknown universe?’ my mind wasn’t to rest easily. ‘Perhaps there's a better activity waiting for me somewhere out there? Something better than lying on the grass? Something that hasn’t even been created yet in our planet's timeline or something that has seen its grand birth and glorious death millennia ago but people of this humble planet may learn of it only long after my death? I guess we couldn’t know,’ I pointed out to myself feeling proud of all the reasoning and logic on display. I’d have patted myself on the back if that part of my body wasn’t so firmly attached to the ground. ‘And it would have been useless to me anyway since I’d be dead already. Oh well.’ It was probably as good a moment as any to drop this deep and contemplative topic.

A small green bird flew not far away from my unsuspecting face. It seemed like a smudge painted lazily on sky’s canvass by an inspired artist. It was promptly followed by a gliding sea of dandelion seeds that felt startled by the sudden motion and decided to fly for their lives in a last ditch attempt to escape, a desperate act of survival. Little did they know, their destination was the exact opposite of living. I could have sworn I’ve heard their helpless cries ring out in funny, cartoon like, high pitched voices. ‘Aaaaaaaa!’ they yelled, while plummeting down to the ground and landing softly next to my hand. ‘Bet they’re pretty pissed off at the dandelion seed guy who told them to get the hell out of there,’ I thought to myself, as usual applying character feats to elements of nature and inanimate objects. It never really made any sense whatsoever. But making sense was rarely the sole purpose. It was the act of entertaining a hypothetical and abstract situation that always gave me a little thrill. ‘”General Taraxacum! You’ve lead us to our deaths, you bastard! The High Council will hear of this when they find our rotting corpses! Everyone knows you were appointed our military leader because your father was the famous and fearless Dan The Lion! Guess what! You’re nothing like him! You will die here with us, your name covered in eternal shame,”’ I suddenly felt engaged in the whole artificial affair, as lines of made up dialogue entered my silly head. I then imagined a violent scrap ensuing with dandelion seeds pushing each other into grass blades and other dandelion seeds breaking up the fight.

As I turned my head away from the suffering dandelion seeds I immediately forgot all about them. They are forever lost to memory. Nobody will cry for them. They'll get stamped on if they're lucky. Nobody will mourn them. Nobody except for their wives and children who stayed in other dandelion seed huts built on top of stalks across this green city. I'd absolutely hate to be the one to break the news to them.

‘If I was in a movie, a smart overhead camera shot would be circling into my direction right now, with its steady angle zooming in slowly but surely,’ I thought to myself, changing the subject. ‘It would focus on either the stark contrast between me and my surroundings or the seamless blending of said two. Depends on the script and scenography. It would then masterfully turn around and pan out up to the sky,’ I continued to contemplate. ‘As if there was a realization that I’m just a tiny force in the face of something much more vast and powerful,’ I theorized. ‘That’s a sweet bit of movie making right there. It tells you a great deal of things without saying a single word. Suggestive. I like it,’ I proclaimed, to the happiness of movie directors all across the world, I’m sure.

And that’s the way in which another entire afternoon flew by. Like a green bird. It seemed like a smudge painted lazily on time’s canvass by an inspired artist.

Other entries in the series

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