Thursday, May 29, 2014

NOIR. 7. Gold In Gold Out

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.


I woke up. My head felt absent and it took some blinking and eyebrow tilting before I was able to collect my sight and align it with other senses. As my touch returned I noticed my hands were pressed against a cold stone surface. It was of rectangular shape and took up around 15 square feet of space. I was sitting on top of a solitary tower, I soon discovered, as I looked around in confusion. There was nothing to be seen with bare eyes. Endless oceans of clouds and mist in every direction possible. Even if there were any paths to cross I wouldn't know where to go.

A wave of cold, fresh air gently brushed against my skin. It was very calming yet struck me with a sense of urgency. Like I was supposed to do something and do it fast.

I crawled carefully to one of the edges of the tower and quickly jumped back as dizziness caused by my fear of heights set in instantly. A scenario of me falling to a gruesome death crossed my mind like it always does when faced with a sight of a long distance below me. I couldn’t even guess how far down it was. In the brief moment I laid my eyes onto the depths I noticed flashes of light reflected in a liquid surface. 'Must have been water,' I thought. It was pierced with sharp edges resembling tree tops of giant pines. An underwater forest? I didn't know. I knew it wasn't looking very inviting. If I was to fall down I would end up spiked and drowned at the same time.

As I slowly made my way back to the center of the tower top I noticed a loose stone beneath my feet. After further inspection I saw multiple cracks running along the surface forming a tile that could be lifted up. Not wasting any time I began the excavation process. I struggled to grasp the tile. There was no place to maneuver the object and it was very heavy. But after a great effort and persistence it gave in, revealing a pocket of space. In this pocket of space I found a chest. If I wasn't feeling confused and slightly uneasy I'd probably have felt like a true treasure finder who just put his hands on a golden relic.

Filled with excitement and hope I lifted the chest on the surface, placed it next to me and began closer examination. The chest wasn't heavy. It was red, sturdy, well preserved and had no lock on it. It seemed to invite the lucky finder to open it. So I did.

After lifting the lid I saw four objects placed carefully onto a red velvet pillow. First item that drawn my eyes was a gold coated brass telescope. The second object was a compass. The third and fourth items were a torch and a single match. What was their purpose?

I took out the brass telescope. It was an old school nautical instrument. I couldn't tell if it was ever used; it seemed fairly new. It looked like a gift waiting to be unwrapped by someone. Me?

Bereft of any better ideas I decided to look through the telescope. The lens was dusty so I had to wipe it with my sleeve. When I put the telescope to my eyes I was astonished. Wow! I had to double check if what I was seeing was 'real', whatever that meant. I looked again without the telescope and through it again. What I saw was two different things. Two different worlds, separate realities. First world was the one without the telescope. It has not changed. Filled with dense mist it was impossible to see anything. It made me feel lost and unsafe. The second world, even though much darker, was making an impression of warm, delicate and vivid place. The contrast felt far sterner and the vision felt far clearer. I could see lights flickering steadily on the horizon. They formed a ring around the tower. For a brief moment it seemed the ring started to move towards the tower slowly and then it stopped. I had a better view now. I still couldn't make out what exactly was there but I felt a sudden urge to head out towards it. I was faced with two problems. I didn't know in what direction should I venture. There were endless possibilities. I was also separated from the lights by a black sea, impenetrable to human eyes. What is beneath it? No idea. It looked dangerous.

After several long minutes of looking around trying to find a clue that would help me consider my next move I remembered the existence of other items in the chest.

I picked up the compass. It seemed fairly new and unused much like the telescope but it did not seem to work. I tried to poke it from all sides and shake it a bit but to no avail. I sat around with it for a while and began to worry. Fear of the unknown started sinking in. It was getting colder and colder, wind was blowing harder and harder. Will I be okay?

Staring hopelessly at the compass I began thinking about my past. I realized how much time I've wasted living in the moment, not paying any attention to the future. Only now I envisaged my possible fates. I suddenly became a customer looking at shelves in a store, trying to make the right choice and willing to pay the price.

As my thoughts were unveiling one after another I felt a sense of purpose. In that exact moment, to my great surprise, the compass needle started to spin. It kept spinning and spinning and my palms began to sweat in anticipation. I waited quite some time but the needle wouldn't stop spinning. Hope has abandoned me again. It was then when my eyes met with the telescope. 'Wait a minute,' I thought as my mind was suddenly hit with an idea. I rolled over to my left and picked up the telescope. I looked through it at the compass… The needle stopped. It was now showing one place with all its certainty, staring forward like a hunting dog. I looked up.

It was pointing towards the brightest spot in the entire ring. I haven't noticed it before. How have I missed it? I need to go there. But how? A black sea was making for an unpleasant carpet, riddled with uncertainty and danger. I couldn't just step onto it. First I had to be sure it's safe.

So I stood there weighing my options. Or bemoaning the lack of them, come to think of it. Was there something I wasn't getting? Wait, what about the torch and the match? I almost ran towards the chest and picked up said items. There was only one match. I had only one chance.

I struck the match against my shoe and to my joy it lit itself up. I quickly put it to the torch lightning it up as well. Warm fire brought me some calm and filled me with renewed exhiliration. With one hand yielding the torch and the telescope in the other I approached the tower's edge. It was almost freezing now, I was afraid of being blown away by relentless winds.

It was now or never. I put the torch toward the black sea and to my happiness several paths appeared before me. Some of them looked broken and unsafe. Some of them looked dangerous and deceptive. There was one of them, though… It seemed to lead towards the brightest spot in the ring. Yes, that was the one.

There was no time to think anymore. I knew I had to take this path whatever the consequences. It felt right. So I took a deep breath and moved my foot outside the tower's safety… It worked! I put my second foot on the path and slowly made my way through darkness, towards light.

As I continued to walk slowly, winds seemed to have stopped and temperature was becoming ever warmer. I did it. I made the right decision at the right moment. It paid off. A personal victory. Just in time.  

Tuesday, May 27, 2014

I can Phil it Collins' underwear is tight

I can feel it coming in the air tonight, oh lord

Is it oxygen and nitrogen and other genes? Pathogens and allergens and genes from a bottle and hallucinogens. That's right. You're trippin', dude. Lay off it. Seriously. I know you wanted some sea food and ordered shrimps but you mumble so inarticulately they thought you wanted shrooms. And what's with the last part? Are you such a big fan of fat that you call out for lard?

I've been waiting for this moment, all my life, oh lord

Patience is a virtue. Waiting all your life for one moment is silly though. You could've done some cool shit in the meantime like petting a panda or water skiing naked or sleeping in a bathtub filled with hot water and warm women. 

Can you feel it coming in the air tonight, oh lord, oh lord 

*sniffs air* You pig. Stop laughing out loud. Twice. Ain't funny.

Well, if you told me you were drowning

Couldn't, I was drowning. Had water in my mouth and nose and lungs and other vital organs such as urethra and biceps. We're mostly water so we're drowning all the time anyway. Blrbrlblrblr.

I would not lend a hand

Cheapskate. What about a foot? I'd pay you back in the footure. Honest.

I've seen your face before, my friend

*looks around* lay off the Pornhub. Not healthy.

But I don't know if you know who I am

I know who you are. You have your name written on the thing. But if you ask whether I looked into your soul to know your true self or not… then nah.

Well, I was there and I saw what you did

Shiiiiiiet. Appreciate not calling the cops! You done did me a solid. Maybe I misjudged you.

I saw it with my own two eyes

Glad you specified the amount of eyes. Wouldn't want to give yourself out as a cyclops, what with the hunting season in full swing. Cyclops eyes are more expensive than you realize, see.

So you can wipe off the grin, I know where you've been

Can't a man just be happy he had a nice poo? And I wiped it well. Wait, what?

It's all been a pack of lies

I love Lie's. Especially paprika and onion flavoured. Lie's are the best. Always getting a few packs myself. 

And I can feel it coming in the air tonight, oh lord

Yeah, you can.

I've been waiting for this moment for all my life, oh lord

You have.

I can feel it in the air tonight, oh lord, oh lord

You can. You are repeating yourself. Are you OK?

And I've been waiting for this moment all my life, oh lord, oh lord

You have. You are repeating yourself. Are you OK?

Well I remember, I remember don't worry

Oh, alright. Had me going there for a moment, fella.

How could I ever forget, it's the first time, the last time we ever met

When was that exactly? I think I remember that but we haven't really spoken then have we? I'm not one to talk much. I wonder--do you know the reason why I keep my silence up? Do I fool you?

But I know the reason why you keep your silence up, no you don't fool me

Dammit. Smart bastard.

The hurt doesn't show; but the pain still grows

What happened? Hit your toe? I know the pain but it will pass like a gas. 

It's no stranger to you or me

True, we're both familiar to it. I'm WhatsApping it sometimes. It helped me out a lot when I had no money. If it wasn't there I'd still be broke. No pain, no gain.

And I can feel it coming in the air tonight, oh lord

So you claim. I hope it came. Holding it in for too long can have negative effects. 

Friday, May 23, 2014


We're all descending
No control
Walking into spaces
Beneath all

Carried by selfishness
Spiraling down
All the good men
Left town

Civilization in ruin
Once so great
Some trying to flee
Too late

End times are nigh
Nothing left
Everything of hope
Equally bereft

No time for goodbyes
Tears shed
Pain and regret over
Lives led

No one will remember
Drown in lakes
As the new generation
Repeats mistakes


No longer pent up inside stood there and watched the chaos It caused. Having its dormant state disrupted by yet another incident It meant nothing else but staying true to its essence. Most of the time It takes a back seat and patiently waits. Lurks on the edges and passes through shadows. Gathers its resources and builds up the strength to make a move.

A soldier that awaits the order to fire. Bullets held back in magazines leave the chamber one by one at relentless pace and fury. They pierce through everything on their path causing irreversible trauma. Rain of fire.

A dam that suddenly finds its rusty steel gates to be wide open. Tides of water that hugged the cold stone walls make their way leaving a calamity in their wake. Tides with foam at their mouths like rabid dogs. A gigantic flood.

A single word or a phrase causes the release. A trigger pulled in a split second. A valve turned in an instant.

What follows is the unmasked face of horrid. Scars from the past cover the grey skin. Veins bulge on the wrinkled and bloodied forehead. The eyes are terrifying. Their obsidian color reflects the time of repression and heavy shackles. A mad laughter leaves the mouth and turns into a vicious roar. It charges through planes without fear or remorse turning the ground into lava with its fiery steps. It emanates uncontrollable rage, waves of which bend and pull out everything in a thousand mile radius. Annihilation.

When It is done It crawls into hiding and goes back to its nest. There It revels in the destruction It caused and looks upon shame that takes its vacant place on the surface. It can bide its time again and rest in the knowledge It will be unleashed soon enough.

As for everything else... The aftermath sees the casings no longer dance on the floor and the stream of water seemingly dried out. Now that the dust has settled the scorched earth sizzles out and pillars of smoke grow thinner and thinner. Heavy rain cuts the still image of a grey sky shortly after. A distorted frame settles in and pans out revealing the tormented scape. Pain and blame can be heard stroking the strings of their sad harps in the distance. Wailing sounds invade the atmosphere, echoing through empty spaces pushing the cold air across the world. Something has to find the strength to plant the seeds of will again...



heavy burden

keep hoping

stops hurtin'

goes away

Monday, May 19, 2014

Mikkelson's Band

"I've no idea. What should we do? Sir?" All eyes were turned to a towering man with a scar running across his face. His scar wasn't actually running across his face as it was mostly stationary. It only moved when the towering man produced facial expressions, like he did just now. And now again.

"Split up. Posen, you go north. Leez, you head south. Oph, check east. Mikkelson, head west. I'll stay here and finish my roasted chicken before those pesky rats claim it," the towering man said and threw a towel over his shoulder.

"Yes, sir! What should we do when we find him?" asked a male man named Mikkelson who was a blond Swede with yellow hair and loved folk music, sweets and expressionism.

"Bring him back, Mikkelson. And be careful. Browser can be dangerous. As dangerous as a volcano or a gun or an angry velociraptor," the towering man who had a towel thrown over his shoulder as he prepared to eat roasted chicken warned everyone who wasn't Mikkelson and he warned Mikkelson as well.

Mikkelson was a Swede. He was of considerable size as his diet was composed mainly of sugar. That's why they called him a Swede and because he was born in Sweden as well. He wasn't a good composer neither of music nor of diet. He was prone to mass food consumption and he was a highway in a sense that he had no limits. His daily calories intake was someone else's weekly calories intake and his outtake was even larger, without needlessly getting into specifics. Needless to say he was prone to clogging up the toilet and causing people to experience the experience of exasperation. He explained that he couldn't control his excrement production standards because the remote to his bowels had fallen behind a sofa. Remote was a great location to be in after Mikkelson had visited the toilet. Toilets absolutely hated Mikkelson. They were crying their porcelain tears and flooded their surroundings making all the tiles around them wet and angry and sad like a worn out umbrella.

Mikkelson had a voice as deep as a very deep well or a hole or Deep Purple. His voice used to echo wherever there was space and circumstances for such phenomenon to occur. Back in his day he was able to sing songs and let his calm voice spread over the room like jam on a slice of bread. He loved jam sandwiches and he loved singing. Back in his day he would perform at nights in bars and small local festivals with his band of equally blonde Swedes who had a penchant for exposing their naked chests and singing songs whilst playing on musical instruments. They were good folk and used to play decent Swedish folk and enjoyed their lives like a human baby would if its brain was developed enough to understand that it is being fed food for free and has its butt cleaned up for it.

Mikkelson's band was almost successful. They were once approached by a small corpulent man who was as tall as small women and turned out to be a record company executive. He was impressed with their performance at the Malmo Music Festival festival.

"I am very impressed with your performance, boys," he told them in Swedish because they were in Sweden, before telling them his name is Erik. "My name is Erik."

"Thanks, Erik," one of the band members, a drummer, replied whilst playing with drumsticks like a ninja with knives or a porn star with someone's anus.

"Seriously, boys, that was impressive. What was your band's name again?" he asked nonchalantly without chaloir.

"Jarl Jam."

"Hmm," Erik mused, "Swear I've heard it somewhere. Weren't you popular back in the day? Heh, heh," he attempted a joke but failed as nobody laughed. Not even his family, who admittedly weren't there at the time.

"We wanted to reflect our Scandinavian roots by incorporating such an important title to our culture as 'Jarl'. As for the second part, our lead singer Mikkelson really loves jam. He wouldn't have it any other way," the bass player explained while nodding his head towards Mikkelson who was making sandwiches with a jelly looking substance in the attic. "You have to reach compromise sometimes. Especially with Mikkelson."

"What was the name of the song that you played? Girls certainly loved it or maybe it was the naked chests. Still a good piece of music," Erik complimented while sitting down on a dark chair that had a long, tiresome life.

"It's called 'Wake Me Uppsala'. It's a song about loss and grief. Sven here," the drummer pointed at a napping blond Swede who fell asleep with a bowl of pudding on his lap and a flute next to his knee. "He realized he lost his wallet when he woke up after a very busy night in Uppsala and was overcome with sadness. When he told us what happened we immediately started writing a song and after we were done we went out looking for the wallet."

"Did you find it?"

Mikkelson's band was almost successful because they were about to sign a big contract with Erik's record company. They were about to make big money, huge piles of cash and hookers and a generous insurance package. They were already planning to spend their newly acquired wealth to help poor people like themselves – themselves. All was going well except for the bass player's diagnosis of leukemia but suddenly they split. They split in a split second as the conflict between the members escalated quicker than an escalator as the latter is rather slow. Mikkelson had a very violent argument with the drummer after which he saw no other option but to leave the group and travel with his parents to America.

"That's it. I've had enough. I'm leaving Jarl Jam and I'm going to travel with my parents to America," he said, as he was massaging his bruised knuckles still sore after the violent disagreement.

"Fine," said the drummer who was still limping a bit even though he wasn't walking right now. "I'm not going to miss you and your crap. We will find another lead singer and will send you postcards from Jarl Jam's world tour."

"You won't know my address," Mikkelson rightly observed.

"Write it here," the drummer pulled down his pants and displayed his bare backside to Mikkelson who was very hungry and had to hurry because he had a dentist appointment. He left without leaving an address on the drummer's naked butt.

Mikkelson hasn't pursued a career in show business ever since. Initially, he felt very upset about the band's collapse and even jam stopped tasting the same. He was sad and disappointed that he failed to fulfill his dream and bemoaned the amount of money he was never going to earn while doing something he loved. This state lasted over three weeks. After he arrived in Seattle he was well over it and began earning plenty of money in his father import-export company which he absolutely loved doing.

Mikkelson has always been an avid enthusiast of timber, hydropower, and iron ore and the fact that his father's company was importing precisely those goods from Sweden to United States made him very happy and reasonably wealthy and almost made him forget Jarl Jam. He can still be heard by his neighbors or burglars humming 'Wake Me Uppsala' in the shower.

As for the rest of the band, they were still looking for a new lead singer when the bass player died aged 20. Shortly after that the pudding loving band member was sent to jail for two years after beating a man half to death with a flute. The drummer put his pants back on and became a mechanic playing with wrenches like a ninja with knives but lost his right arm a year later. The dream of Jarl Jam died and was no longer alive.

Previous chapter:
Browser's Childhood

Wednesday, May 14, 2014


Doing an own thing
Expression of mind
Combining ideas
Imperfect designs
Rewriting, redrawing
Adjusting and changing

Feeling inspired
Thoughts rushing in
Working a way through
Giving it a spin
A birth and a dawn
Together or alone

Setting bars high
Always staying true
A perfect marriage
Of old and new
Enriching the world
Own stories are told


She is strong. Not physically as she is of typical, beautiful feminine frame. She is mentally strong. Her mental muscles are flexed and display tremendous power. They are giving away a sense of raw determination and unquestionable persistence. They are not to be trifled with. 

She is strong. She has the strength far superior to many. She has the will and ambition capable of carrying her through the highs and lows, breaking down the walls and kicking down the doors. Her drive is second to none and even in times of doubt she is always finding a way out.

She is strong. Her sight is immaculate as she sees what she wants to achieve right in front of her. The path is laid before her eyes by her mind and she knows she has to follow it. She knows she is going to follow it. She wants to. It is a goal and whenever there is a goal it is always reached.

She is strong. Her imagination is able to create captivating images in her head and her talents are there to give birth to them in the form of art. She has found the power and bravery to be vulnerable to beauty and her observational abilites are formidable enough to present her with fresh ideas, granting her the ability to produce new, fascinating things.

She is strong. She is strong enough to enjoy what she is doing. Instead of various tasks becoming mundane she is always performing what seems to be a bath in a fountain of fun. Instead of boredom and mental fatigue she walks into pockets of inspiration that are filled with freshness and discovery. 

She is strong. She has the strength to hope and to put trust in others. She is capable of love and capable of being deeply loved. Her presence is magnetic and makes those around them aware of her. She may not realize it yet but she is important to some of the people and she will become important to many more.

She is strong. Those people will care for her always and will await her new creations and follow her on her path. Those creations will constantly improve as she develops herself and her skills. She has the support and belief of people who know she will succeed as she is simply bound to. 

She is strong. Many talents are wasted but hers will not be. Even when she takes a break and feels lack of confidence she collects herself and comes back stronger than ever. She becomes reinforced with creativity and resolve to carry on and express her strength and imagination through the fruits of her labor. 

She is strong. She has proven that many times before to everyone in her life. One day she will prove it to herself and she will realize why exactly everyone knew what she will become. She will understand the resonance she carries as success and acclaim quickly encompass her world. Her strength will be rewarded.

Tuesday, May 13, 2014


Have you ever seen a dying sun?
Eruptions of lava destroying it all
Eating away parts of the whole
Becoming less and less

Missing pieces flowing into space
Branding their trail for mere seconds
Leaving no mark whatsoever
Perishing into nothingness

Source of light now brighter than ever
Gathering any remnants of strength
Letting out a desperate bellow
Brightening and fading

Overwhelmed and weakened
Lead to the brink, gives in
Finally exploding into million pieces
Essence reduced to a shimmering sphere

Nobody watching
No one listening

Broken spirit slowly ceasing to fight
Lying down behind the plane
Covered in dark sheets
Dimmed by the universe


Friday, May 9, 2014

Not only gin but also juice!

Someone once told me
There was a lot of drama in the L.B.C
But when I arrived there
It was awfully quiet. 
Nobody was playing percussions.
I was lied to.

He also implied
It was difficult being him
Yet he somehow kept coming up with things
I was suspicious and I found him out.
Asked him if he was coming up
When he was walking downstairs.

The same person boasted
There was a party jumping
Because his mother wasn't home
And when I asked him which party
He looked confused.
They were Democrats, by the way. 

Someone once told me
He's got bitches in the living room
But when I went down to check it out
They were all dead.
It wasn't much of a living room.
I'd say it was a dead end.

He also added that
Said bitches were not leaving until 6 a.m.
Which was a gamble on his part
Because what if we picked up the bodies
And took them out at 5.45 a.m.?
He'd look a fool and a liar.

Then he told us to turn off the lights
And close the doors
After we turned off the lights
We tried to close the doors.
It turned out impossible
They had split up in '72.

Someone once told me
He had his mind on his money
And his money on his mind
I wasn't impressed.
It didn't bother me.
I didn't mind it, I've seen that money times.

The same person said
And I quote:
"You got to get yours and I got to get mine"
He didn't specify though
Whether it was iron or coal.
If the latter - he could join the coalition.

A man once admitted he was suffering
He had some sort of chronic pain
That made him choke
And it was serious
I told him he could cure it
With medical marijuana.

Someone once told me
His friend brought some female companions
To serve him without a cherry on top
Which puzzled me.
There was no cakes anyway.
And there was plenty of seats.

Last time I saw him
He was rolling down the streets
Smoking something resembling a cigarette
And sipping on gin and juice
To a great dissatisfaction
Of ethnic minorities.

Thursday, May 8, 2014


"Help me with this stone. Can't move the damn thing."

"That's what happens when you don't exercise. No strength."

"Yeah, yeah. Come on. Don't just sit there."

"Told you to work out sometimes. That's what you get when you ain't prepared."

"Cut the crap and push from the side."

"Nah, dude. Keep tryin'. I'm gonna sit here and eat my ice cream."

"Yeah? Hope you catch a cold then. It's not even that warm and you're eating your goddamn ice cream."

"I'm cold resistant."

"What's that even mean?"

"I'm resistant to cold. I don't catch it. Even if I was wearing one of those baseball gloves stuffed full of magnets and you just threw a metallic cold at me I wouldn't have caught it."

"Good for you. Now come on, move your ass and help me here."

"Nah. Do it yourself. Where would we be if we didn't move the stones ourselves?"

"Is that a marijuana ice cream? What the hell are you on about?"

"Think about it."

"I would if I wasn't struggling with this goddamn piece of shit rock."

"Harsh. Rock has been very influential throughout the…"

"Very funny. I would fall off a chair if I wasn't standing here. Or I would have taken that chair and…"

"Very funny. Now try the thinking thing I just introduced you to. Where would we be if we didn't move the stones ourselves? Sure we would be better off just waiting for someone to move the stones for us, huh?"

"Wouldn't be against that."

"See, that's the problem."

"Yeah? What's the problem?"

"You wanna have people moving your stones. That's not gonna get you anywhere. You'll only get screwed over. If you want the stone moved to the place you want it to be, you gotta move it yourself."

"Ain't you the philosopher. How is that gonna help me now? I just want this stone moved to the side. So right now I'd take any help I can get. Just push it a bit and I'll roll it further by myself."

"So you just want me to help you start? Let's say I'll do it. We're gonna move it and then what?"

"Then I'll be good."

"Yeah but what if you come across another one of those? And I'm not there to help ya? You gonna struggle some more and hate everything. And you'll get nowhere."

"I'm gonna shoot it with a goddamn bazooka. Yeah, that's what I'll do. I'm just gonna carry around a bazooka and shoot stones."

"Hate to break it to you pal but it's illegal to carry around a bazooka. It's also very dumb and impractical."

"Goddamn government. They got us."

"It's not the government who got you, it's your empty head. Do you wanna be stuck here forever? I wouldn't. It's gonna get dark soon."

"Not really. That's why I asked you to..."

"Yeah, but I might not be here next time. You'll just sit in front of a stone and stare at it?"

"I don't know, man. What's the alternative to bazookas?"

"Work out. Beef up and break a sweat. Own up. It's not too late to start. You only need your hands and your head to move all sorts of crap wherever you wanna."

"Knew you'd say that. I was hoping for something easier."

"It's never easy if you wanna get something right. Been there, done that. Almost got crushed when I was moving my first stone but didn't give up. Was worth it, found a vein of gold. You'll find yours eventually but it ain't gonna wait there forever. Someone else might grab it if you slack around, dude."

"Your ice cream's melting. I'm gonna try again."

Wednesday, May 7, 2014

Browser's Childhood

"Who killed him?" asked a tall, wide man with a scar running across his face and a sense of authority booming in his voice. He spat out his cigar and stamped on it with his heavy boot.

"Think it was Browser, sir," replied a man of considerably smaller frame with no scars running across his face and a sense of inferiority resounding in his voice. He scratched his forehead and looked around to see what was around him.

Browser has always been the one when it came to people killed by him. Nobody else has ever killed people who were killed by Browser. It was a fact. A true fact and not an opinion. Browser was very proud of that achievement. He was as proud of that as he was proud of his achievement of winning a long jump competition during his high school days in Wapakoneta, Ohio.

"Did I ever tell you about the time I won a long jump competition during my high school days in Wapakoneta?" Browser would ask over a burning campfire in the camp. "I bet you want to know the secret… Well, I jumped the furthest. It was a sunny day and the sun was shining. I ran and I jumped. Oh, the glory. They gave me a statuette of a guy jumping long and far. I don't think it was made of gold 'cause the coating started to peel off after a month. Still, it was a proud day. My ma was proud and my da was proud, I think. He wasn't there at the time as he was away somewhere. The steel company he worked for as a delegate used to send him all over the country to places like Chicago, Albuquerque and Topeka where he used to work as a delegate for the steel company. He loved his work and bourbon. He loved his wife, my ma, and he was a massive Bengals fan. He'd go to games and…"

Every time Browser was telling the story of his long jump competition win or any other stories he used to tell, he steered the discussion into a tale about his father. He loved his father as much as he would love his own parents. His parents loved Browser as much as they would love their own child. It was a love at first sight as his parents loved Browser when they saw him for the first time. It was about the time when he was born, possibly in the moment of birth. His father was there to witness it, said Browser, even though Browser didn't remember it and only knew this because his mother told him that because she was there and was old enough of to store memories and understand certain events, unlike Browser at the time.

Browser was a good child. He was a strong-willed child with a strong will and he held off with drinking and smoking for fifteen years. His father was very proud as he knew what it took to resist temptation of drinking and smoking. He tried to stop drinking and smoking but only lasted two months. Browser had good grades and was a good child. He was a good child up to the point where he grew up and stopped being a child. But before that he was a good child who loved apple pie, girls and basketball but wasn't quite fond of algebra and wild animals like bears and raccoons that used to ransack his backyard leaving it a complete mess. Browser had to clean it up the next day to learn about responsibility and other similar qualities that no one respected.

"It will teach you responsibility and other similar qualities. Everyone should respect them," his father used to say, quoting articles by smart people who were writing smart articles in newspapers for everyone to read and learn and then use the newspapers along with tinder to start Sunday barbecues whenever people were having a Sunday barbecue. "Just ask your mother."

"What? Oh. Yes, yes of course. Your father is right. Listen to your father," Browser's mother used to say while dusting off dust off of antlers nailed to the wooden wall with nails. She was a woman who offered little to no insight, was tall and skinny, liked to watch soap operas and was very focused on her duties to her husband and to America. She was very focused on the activities she was performing, as her husband used to point out with a grin on his face whenever he was spending time drinking and smoking with his buddies at a pub.

"She's very focused on the activities she's performing" he would say to his buddies at a pub, "if you know what I mean." He would then take a sip of a drink and smoke a cigarette.

"I think I know what you mean," said one of his buddies who knew what he meant.

Browser grew up in a quiet neighborhood and had dark hair. He had dark, unnecessarily long hair that used to poke him in the eyes whenever he was running against the wind. He was running against the wind a lot because it was windy a lot where he lived and he was running a lot playing basketball with other kids, throwing football with his father, and practicing long jump. He was a hopeful child with brave dreams like winning a high school long jump competition to earn himself respect and a statuette of a man jumping long and far. He had a distinct jawline and dark hair and was of average physical frame. He had no tendencies to gaining weight and he didn't gain much weight. He was quite tall as his parents were also considerably tall and he eventually grew taller than tables and small people.

He loved almost all of the animals. He grew up listening to "The House of the Rising Sun" and playing with his trusty dog Bucket. He would throw a weary, old, trusty baseball and Bucket would chase it. They would do it all afternoon if only Bucket wasn't getting tired after an hour. Bucket was a medium-sized, brown dog who loved to lie on the grass covered by sunshine and to lick Browser's face, especially if it was smeared with peanut butter. Bucket loved peanut butter and so did Browser.

"Are you giving peanut butter to Bucket again, son?" father would ask. "We told you it's not good for him to eat so much peanut butter, son. Ask your mother."

"What? Oh. Yes, yes of course. Your father is right. Listen to your father," Browser's mother would say, offering little to no insight and instead focusing on the activities she was performing.

Even though his childhood was uneventful, events have happened to Browser. He saw a man puke during a circus performance and he had a girlfriend. He had a girlfriend who had a boyfriend – him. She was one year younger than him and was a brunette. They used to ride bikes together and eat ice cream and throw paper planes into a lake and have the same hair color. Browser was fifteen at the time and she was fourteen, as she was one year younger than him. She liked Browser and she slapped him once when he blew up a frog right into her face. She didn't like having frogs blown up in her face but Browser wasn't aware at the time. Browser was considered a decent boyfriend material and other girls used to ask his girlfriend lots of questions.

"So have you two kissed already?" one of the girls swarming Browser's girlfriend would ask.

"Yeah, at least a little smooch?" another one would ask promptly.

"Have you seen him without a shirt?"

"Tell us! What is he like alone with you?"

"Did you grab his butt?"

"Do you have any cigarettes?"

Browser had to break up with his girlfriend when he found out she loved bears and raccoons and didn't respect responsibility and other similar qualities.

Browser broke his shoulder once when he was biking on a bike. He lost control of his bike when his Bengals cap had fallen off his head and distracted him long enough for his deceptive bike to swerve wildly and throw him onto the road like a person allergic to nuts spitting out a nut. Browser was angry that even though he was wearing a protective helmet it didn't prevent him from breaking his shoulder. He was angry because he couldn't play basketball and scratch his chin. The last thing he remembered before passing out was Bucket licking peanut butter off of his face. His parents were worried about Browser and they found him the best doctor on the shift in the local hospital. The local hospital was small but had medicine and doctors and it was enough to put Browser's shoulder back together like a chair leg. The place of his shoulder break is still itching Browser even today. When it does he scratches it and he's alright.

Not much else happened to Browser during his childhood. His childhood was uneventful and he completed his education without any problems. There were no problems except for the algebra teacher who really loved algebra and didn't like Browser who didn't like algebra and didn't like his algebra teacher. They once argued after class and Browser was ordered to stay after class so they could argue some more. The teacher won because he was older and had authority and authority was one of the qualities similar to responsibility that Browser was taught to respect and also because the algebra teacher was better at algebra and arguments. The algebra teacher later complained to Browser's parents that their son doesn't respect algebra and authority.

"I'm really sorry to say that your son doesn't respect algebra and authority," he would complain to Browser's parents. "I can see you're good folk. It doesn't add up. I'm really struggling to rationalize this complex situation. It's happened a number of times. We need to get to the root of this problem."

"We sure do. We don't know what may have caused it. Our son is a good son with a good heart and he wouldn't cause problems without a reason," Browser's father would reason.

"Well, his behavior is creating a division among his classmates. He needs to change it."

"We will look at this problem. I promise you that. Once we will go back home we will talk to our son."

"Does your wife agree to look at this issue as well?"

"What? Oh. Yes, yes of course. My husband is right. Listen to my husband," Browser's mother offered.

Browser's parents talked to their son once they went back home. They talked about the last Bengals game, the taste of steak, the difficult times for American economy and his behavior during algebra classes. They agreed on most of the issues and Browser was excused to play with Bucket. It all turned out very well because the algebra teacher became seriously ill and Browser found a common language with the substitute algebra teacher.

That's how Browser's childhood went. It was pretty uneventful, all things considered. Bucket died aged eleven which was a good thing because he was suffering a lot from hip dysplasia and Browser finally won the high school long jump competition and a statuette of a man jumping long and far during his last year at high school before applying to Ohio University. 

To be continued

Saturday, May 3, 2014

NOIR. 6. Falling Short

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.


If I fall short
If I don’t make the grade
If your expectations aren’t met in me today

You always have it in the back of your mind. Somewhere there, a constant notion lurks behind your thoughts. You feel a presence, a layer of mist hovering right below your feet. It’s dense and almost palpable as it hampers your movements, slows you down. Taking steps forward requires more effort.

It fills you with doubt and anxiety. You accuse it of steadily taking away small bits of your essence and quietly chewing off parts of your character with its tiny sharp teeth, preventing you from reaching your full potential. You think you’re unable to operate at full capacity, like you're missing a vital cog in the machine. It seems you feel like you can’t be yourself in a true sense. In your eyes it's a remarkably high and unforgiving hurdle you just can't jump over. Not yet...

Every day you wish you it was gone. You pray you could get rid of it once and for all, throw it in a pit of fire and watch it turn into ashes and be swept away by gale winds. But it’s always there when you lie down to sleep at night and it’s there to greet you in the morning. It keeps coming back like a loyal dog and makes sure you remember it with its distant barking echoing through the chambers of your mind. It's a photograph you can't avoid looking at. You can’t escape it. You can see it when you look in the mirror. It’s a part of you.

You can blame it for your shortcomings all you want. But the truth is you need it. You need it to remind you what’s at stakes. It’s there to help you realize what is right and what is wrong. It clears the fog enshrouding your inner path. It’s a necessary gavel that turns you into a better judge. It’s one of the parts of an engine that drives you forward and steers you away from danger. It can motivate you far better than the most moving of speeches. It works better because it’s yours, because it’s personal. It knows you like you know yourself.

And you should learn how to know it too. Welcome it. Let it earn your trust. Instead of treating it like an intruder let it join in with you  on your journey and help create a power inside of you, a great force you can call on to in order to reach your true becoming. Focus. Embrace it. Use it.

Until then take solace in the comforting presence of its dear relative. A great friend who has always been there for you in time of need. A loyal companion whom you cherish with enthusiasm and gratitude. After all, as dire as your circumstances can be, it helps you get through everything. It's at the end of the tunnel, call it a glimmer of...

There’s always tomorrow, or tomorrow night