Oh (Ant)Man, Not The Bloody Colonialism Again

"Gerald, would you please pass me the pickaxe," said one ant in a top hat with a perfect Received Pronunciation accent to another ant in a top hat. "This is the right way," Victor said, while receiving a pickaxe from Gerald.

Victor adjusted his glasses and looked at a map once again, just to be sure. This party of ants has been digging a tunnel from Europe to Africa for months now.

"Are you sure? If this goes south it is all on you," warned Gerald, as he pointed at Victor and twirled his exquisite mustache. His own mustache, not Victor's. It would be considered improper had Gerald twirled Victor's almost equally exquisite mustache.

"We WANT to go south, Gerald, that's where Africa is. I would appreciate it if you reconsidered your anti-everything attitude," said Victor as he swung his pickaxe at the ground in front of him. It didn't yield much in terms of result though.

They had struggled for a week now after they hit a particularly hard ground.

"Where is young Titus?" asked Victor as he lifted his eyebrows and adjusted his glasses.

"I'm here, sir!" said a very eager young ant, who was sporting a very poor beard and a naïve smile.

"Did you bring the drill? Good lad. I cannot do it with the pickaxe anymore. Do you know how to operate the drill, young ant?"

"Yes, Mr Victor, I know the drill!" he asked and his eyes lit up. This was the moment he's been waiting for. "Oh yeah… Come to papa!" he shouted and nearly charged at the wall.

"Hey, hey, hey, don't be so antsy, young Titus. Stay calm and do it right or we will never make it to Africa," said Victor as he put his hands on Titus' shoulders. Gerald was lightning up a cigarette in the background.

"But Mr Victor! I can't wait for us to have a colony!"

Trevor The Fly Peacemaker

"Don't do it, Francis!" one fly pleaded to another.

The other fly was waving and pointing a gun at something.

"I have to, Trevor. I'm done with her shit. Every day is the same," he ranted, fuming, intoxicated. "She won't even look at me. All I'm left to do is deal with her crap. At first I didn't mind, I was trying not to get too attached. But now I want something more from her and she... she just doesn't care, the fat cow," said Francis, clearly unhinged when discussing her. She was a real cow.

"If you think killing her will solve anything then you're wrong. I know the place you're in right now stinks. You feel like you're up against a wall. Carrying a disease. I used to be like you. Angry, frustrated, getting shitfaced. But then I opened my eyes. I went places and I was always buzzing to meet someone new," said Trevor, "As we flies say, there's plenty more cows in the fields."

"Is that really true?" asked Francis, as he seemed to calm down a bit. "Do you think I can land someone right for me? Should I just meet new people and see what sticks?"

"You're what... a day old? Still young. You don't have to swat away your dreams, dude," said Trevor, a very wise fly. "I know it hurts right now but the wounds will heal soon. Time flies when you meet someone new. Now put the gun down, Francis."

Francis reluctantly put the gun down, looked at her for the last time, turned around and said,

"Thanks, Trevor. You're a great wingman. I know I can count on you whenever shit hits the fan. What do you say," he started, with a smirk on his face, "let's go visit the neighboring field. I think I saw a fine piece of ass over there," he suggested and they both laughed.

The Morning After (1)

'Owww...'

I opened my eyes and waited for the blurriness to wear off. Flickering lights were dancing on my face as if someone with an impish grin on his face was playing with ON/OFF switch. Ouch. "Easy," I gasped. "I'm gonna get ya." When I regained clear vision I realized those were actually sunbeams that managed to get past tree branches. Wind was blowing hard, causing trees to lean back and forth like a drunk on a rocking chair which allowed sunbeams to peek through once in a while contributing greatly to much of my initial annoyance.

I elevated my upper body, using elbows as support, and took a quick look around with my barely functioning eyes. It seemed as if I woke up in a dense forest composed mainly of high pines, with solitary birches growing here and there. There was nothing out of ordinary about the forest. There were trees, and um, forest cover littered with dried and broken branches and pine cones everywhere.

The ground felt a bit damp and my clothes were slightly wet like laundry hanging in the sun for ten minutes. The air was unusually fresh. It must have been raining here not so long ago. I stood up and removed some of the dirt from my clothes. It was just a tip of the iceberg. I looked up to see a jaybird looking at me with a pitiful expression on its cocky bird face. "I don't think I'm at my best look wise. That must have been a rough night," I thought. I haven't had much in terms of last night's events recollection. I decided to try and postpone this issue for the time being. The bird flew away but not before dropping a nice little gift right next to my feet. "Thanks." I said, rather insincerely.

As I was elevating myself to a position that was vaguely similar to the default homo sapiens stance, I felt a surge of pain go through my things and calves. "Whoa," I mumbled as I stumbled onto the nearest tree to stop myself from falling. I hugged the tree like I used to hug a teddy bear when I was a kid.

I didn't drink as much back then, though.

I collected myself after a dozen seconds and proceeded to switch my body to a more distinguish 'hooker-at-a-lamppost' pose. I tried to think how much I would charge for a cheeky handjob, especially with the financial crisis and the ever-weakening dollar, but I had to cast those thoughts away mainly because they were ridiculous. "Come on, man," I reasoned. "If you're not paying for this kinda stuff then you shouldn't charge either. Out of principle. You are a man of principle, aren't you?" There was an awkward silence in my head following that question.

It turned out that attempting to formulate thoughts, however half-witted they were, caused a headache to wake up from its stupor. "Dammit," left my mouth as I grimaced over and over again. "My face will have wrinkles like an old dog's ball sack before I even hit 30 if I keep this up," I thought. My head felt like a wooden plank being nailed to something by a particularly clumsy carpenter.

After a few moments of fighting a losing battle against the pain I went through my pockets to see if I had a phone or at least some painkillers. I had neither of those items which was extremely unfortunate because I had to both contact somebody and get rid of the headache. "Life won't even give me any lemons," I mused philosophically, in what was probably my best moment since waking up on that morning.

Rummaging through pockets didn't yield much in terms of results as I only had spare change in my pants and a piece of baguette in my hoody. My first thought was to buy some water because I was as thirsty as a dry tomato (my face must have looked similar) and also purchase painkillers. Unfortunately, after looking around, checking to be absolutely sure, I was one hundred percent certain there were no shops in my vicinity. It was a forest, after all. I decided to eat the baguette so as not to impair my movements with unnecessary burden. It was stale but it was something. And I was as hungry as a cannibal stranded on an island with no people.

Fueled by those superb nutrients I slowly began to make my way in an unspecified direction. It was there and then that I gathered my first experience in sailing as I was carried and pushed mainly by the wind. Wherever possible I supported myself with trees which I started to consider to be my friends because they were always there for me. "Thanks, trees. You're all invited to my birthday next month. You don't have to bring anything," I said. "There will be a cake and a barbecue and hopefully sun, 'cause that what you trees eat, eh?"

At one point, after wandering aimlessly for some odd twenty minutes, I finally heard something in the distance. I had no idea what it was except that it was a sound. I quickly gathered that there were no other reasonable options but to follow that noise so I began to walk in its general direction. It grew louder and louder and after a few minutes I saw what looked like a huge ball of poo rolled up and left there by a ridiculously large scarab.

The ball of poo started to move. I began approaching it carefully when suddenly I recognized it! That ball of poo was my friend Mark, and the noise he let out was one of his stomach's contents leaving his mouth.

"Mark! Hey, Mark!" I yelled and jogged to him. He somehow managed to pull up his head and looked at me. His face suggested he just left the filming set of a zombie movie after being given a role as an extra. He groaned and growled at me. It freaked me out at first, but as I did not have my sawed-off shotgun with me, I had to try to talk to him.

"You okay, buddy?" I asked as I looked into his red eyes and pale face. I glanced underneath him to see a pool of what was his last night's meal remix that looked like an old, moldy pizza. I hoped he wouldn't fall into it, in case I had to carry him back.

"Wh... huh? R... Rod?" he muttered as his eyes started to register something other than a ground full of vomit. He scratched his head carelessly and with all his strength he flexed his rather wimpy brain muscles and put together a question that pierced right through my mind, placing in doubt my take on philosophy of humanity and existence. "Whe... where is my hat?"


To be continued...

NOIR. 9. In The Quiet Absence Of God

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 you to see the images I see whenever I hear the songs.
Some of them feel very real, some of them are more abstract.

"BATTLE"

Everything is in slow motion.

Rains of arrows are falling down on the battlefield. Flaming arrows are dancing a deadly tango with heavy water drops. You can hear the rain slowly hitting pools of water and blood as men are clashing in the dark, damp mud. Thumping sounds of their swords and spears colliding in a ferocious battle reverberate in the open field, under the dome of black clouds.

As you're approaching closer to the battle, slow and agonizing screams of wounded men can be heard louder and more intensely. A sense of dread is a mist engulfing everything in its reach. Someone is cursing. Someone is taunting. Others are dying.

Zoom in on the faces. Faces covered in mud and dirt, blood and sweat. Expressions of anger, hatred, determination, pain. Teeth are showing, wounds are bleeding. Eyes have no colors, no soul is present inside. No glimmer of humanity. Berserker's trance.

Shattered shields are lying everywhere. Armor pieces are flying in all directions as cold steel is cutting their life short. It doesn't matter if something is standing or lying down, it's being peppered with flaming arrows and unstoppable spears. Rain is bringing no solace to those who fell. It only adds to the desperation.

It's all a field where dead corpses are flowers and spears stuck in the ground are trees.

Day doesn't care anymore. Only the night remains. It's watching us and wondering.

So do we, the ones who don't want to be here. We are forced to. When we lift our heads and look around we see destruction, death, mayhem everywhere. We caused it. We always do. But why?

Our numbers are dwindling but come next battle, new men will take place of the fallen.

But what for?

Why are we fighting?

What's the point?

Who can we turn to?

Is there anybody out there?

______________

Previous entries:

1. Our Hearts Of Ruin. "The Hill"
2. Sleeping Children Are Still Flying. "The Glow"
3. And Stars, Ringed. "The Seeds"
4. To The Ends Of The World. "To Dream"

5. Farewell To The Former World. "The Escape"
6. Falling Short. "Fear"
7. Gold In Gold Out. "Now Or Never"
8. Where Do We Go. "Connection"

NOIR. 8. Where Do We Go

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.

"CONNECTION"

There were two wooden benches at the riverbank. They were resting below a shade cast by a single tree that was growing right between them. I was sitting on one of the benches. The sun was shining again. When I turned my eyes to the ground, the shade looked like clouds covering the ground which was now sky, as if the world was reversed. My feet were placed on those 'clouds' and I stepped on them carefully, trying not to fall into the 'sun'.

It was a good, simple fun. In those peaceful moments you have for yourself you can do simple things and enjoy them. Make them up as you go and be creative and open-minded. Use your senses and be interested. Observe and take part. I can find plenty of interesting things to see around me. Even a patch of grass blowing in the wind can stop my thoughts in that moment in time, seemingly taking a picture of my mind.

As I sat there for a bit longer, now looking at a flock of birds flying over the river, I heard someone coming over and sitting on the other bench. I glanced in that direction and the person did so in my direction. We did not exchange any words but we acknowledged our presence. Slight nod of head can express many words. It's beautiful sometimes how people can talk without saying anything. There is something that fascinates me in this kind of communication. It seems to have a deeper sense of mutual understanding and connection.

Words can be deceptive. Words can lie a lot more often than the eyes. You can use many words to say many things but rarely all of them carry any significance to anything, or worse, they hurt other people a lot of the time. People should use words carefully. The world would benefit if people used words more sparingly, leaving out those insignificant words in meaningless sentences, used to make small talk or conveying thoughts that don't amount to anything.

Careful consideration and proper choice of words would help everyone get on better with each other. It would enable us to communicate in a deeper and more profound way. No deception, no lies, no meaningless babble.

Like that simple look in the eyes. When two people are open to see the other person, see them as an equal and are willing to share just a fraction of second in time to learn about each other, it creates something special.

We sat there for an hour. A big tree between our benches shifted the 'clouds' on the ground as time went by. We were always in the shade. It was a nice feeling, as gentle breeze was constantly finding its way from over the river to the benches. Weather was perfect and nature was marvelous.

We sat there on our own benches, in our own worlds. It felt like two planets of equal size and significance coexisting in a perfect manner. Even though we were separate beings, we were both part of the same universe. We built our own homes and our own realities and there was never any conflict. I wished it always was that simple.

There was no point dwelling on that. Instead, I opted to just enjoy this moment fully. Just take part in sharing a view and air with a stranger with whom I already had more of a connection than with many people I know well.

I was observing the nature and so was my neighbor, I felt. It was most likely the reason that that person came here. It's a perfect place for observing the nature and clearing your head. Sometimes I wondered how many times we both looked at the exact same thing in the exact same time. Like those birds. Not all of them, a particular one. It had to be a particular one for this game to work. To capture the exact same still frame in our minds seemed like an interesting phenomenon to me. It was an endless sea of possibilites with ever changing variables and us being the only constants in that reality. Yet again, simple fun.

At other times, my mind drifted toward more serious matters. We were both sitting in a perfect place for working out our problems and we were both aware of that. While I was trying to solve mine, I also knew the other person was most likely doing the same. I didn't want to know their issues, I'm not nosy. But I knew one thing: I wished them well. It was a strange type of kindness, a pure and unbiased hope that someone fares well. You can often find it in yourself without being aware of its presence. It's a great thing to be caught like that. Being able to feel it is one of the things that make you a decent person. You can see that in someone's eyes too. "I wish you well" are just plain words without honesty glowing from within the eyes.

Some time later I noticed it was starting to get late. The tree seemed to be done for the day, a good day of work and pleasure at the same time. It was a good moment to leave. We stood up from the benches almost at the same time. A coincidence, we both thought, as we exchanged looks for a second time and nodded again, this time with a glimmer of smile visible in the eyes. I knew we thanked each other for sharing that place and that time. We went our separate ways but I kept hoping that maybe we will cross our paths again. If not with that person, then with another one, much sooner than you'd think.

______________

Previous entries:

1. Our Hearts Of Ruin. "The Hill"
2. Sleeping Children Are Still Flying. "The Glow"
3. And Stars, Ringed. "The Seeds"
4. To The Ends Of The World. "To Dream"

5. Farewell To The Former World. "The Escape"
6. Falling Short. "Fear"
7. Gold In Gold Out. "Now Or Never"