Blabberin'

The pointless irrational cloud

2012-02-01T14:19:00.000-08:00

The pointless irrational cloud, gone bad after the collision of some winter caves drawn aside by waves on thick nothingness, relating to the unfortunate faith of a precious gem drop which is no more.

A deer, making it`s path through the rough roads of green, doesn`t know how to handle a candle, even small as it is, the poor thing. Whom does it feed on?
Maybe the trunks are now filled with red bloody cream juice of the forests. Yes, that must be it, the beavers rolled up a dam, creating a diversion for the unworldly creatures of the mist, the path finding things that are no longer.

Coming to an end, the crumb becomes unfortunate, not because it`s cold outside, but because it doesn`t matter anymore. The true meaning of it, finds it`s origins into the hard soiled path of heaven.

Oh, heaven, the white fog land which only exists here, in nowhere. But why does the crop grow not there? Doing so, enables it to do the opposite of that. True, the not so beautiful things are far from over, and they are far from beginning.

Thinking back of the time when time did not exist, makes the shoe think, twice even, about it`s past, relating of course to that part of the world where monkeys enlarge truth, as another kind of reality. It is hard, it is hard for the unpredictable to create such glory, almost impossible, but not quite, as something draws nothing into a whole other form of everything. When the deer crossed the skyscrapers, without even looking back, without making stops for it, walruses, being at the other side of the ball were joining the street dances of bloody thrones.

Conclusion: None of the above made sense.

The end!

A great shadow

2012-01-31T08:42:00.000-08:00

From the surface of my dreams
Lies a great white shadow
Trying not make the means
By dancing on it's meadow

On the verge of passing by
From this deep mind sorrow
But what is sorrow, what am I?
When there is no tomorrow.

Ship to Las Vegas

2012-01-30T08:09:00.000-08:00

I wake up on a ship, with no idea of how I got there or what I was doing before that, ever. I remember seeing a middle-aged man, with a thick beard and a white, poor looking cap. He was staring at me, then he started talking. He said something about this and that but I was still in a state of shock and didn't understand a thing or two of what he said.

The whole setting was colored in a reddish, eerie color, but it was making me feel good, for some reason. I look at the man again, he was still talking. I notice that we are not alone on that ship, two other men were there as well. They were young, kind of like me I might say. Somehow they looked familiar. But no. It is just my mind playing tricks on me.

I wish I would know where I am, this question makes me nervous. I stand up, looking at the surroundings. I see a huge river. I think it is the Danube, but how can I be sure? It doesn't really look like the Danube. It looks more like a river that got released from those stories that describe hell.
Then I notice a chain. It was rusty and huge, the ones that are used for anchors, I figure. I follow it with my sight to see where it leads. It led to another ship. Yes, there was another ship, anchored to this one, or vice versa, I still cannot be sure. Why would there be two ships tied to each other through a chain, in the middle of a huge river, I repeatedly ask myself.

I look at my fellow passengers yet again, trying to figure out who they are. They all seem familiar somehow, even the captain that looks like a pirate. My memory has failed me, I cannot recognize them.

Without being able to realize where I am, who I am, with whom I am and why am I here, we all embark on a journey that I did not agree on. Even the other ship, the one that is tied to ours, joins us in this journey.
The next few hours, days, or months, I have no way of being certain, everything that happened, happened without my knowledge, like somehow I reentered the state of coma that I was in before all this came to me.
I wake up once again, on the same ship, but the people are different. I know one of them, this makes me feel better.

I try to see where we are, we cannot be in the same place as before the second deep coma. I was right, I wasn't in Kansas anymore, as the word goes. No. I was in Las Vegas, or so I thought from my image of Las Vegas, created by films and photographs appearing in my mind.

I do not know why. Why would I be in Las Vegas? Does Las Vegas also have a river crossing through it or by it? Not that I know of. But honestly, what do I remember? Not much sadly.
The next thing I know I am on a building, a high building, maybe it was a mountain? Maybe. I see myself talking with the new man on board, the man that I know.

I am still confused. Everything faded after that. Where am I now?
Where am I heading to?

White Wasteland Prince

2012-01-29T08:37:00.000-08:00

It's Wednesday, the 25th. One month has passed since Christmas and exactly 25 days since the new year has started. Some say it is the final year, the year when the human species will disappear from the surface of Earth. I can not agree, but who am I to think that this world wide paranoia doesn't have grounds to it. But this is besides the point. This is not my worst fear.

After I wake up, in a rather good mood for some reason, I procrastinate for a while under my sheets, thinking of nonsense and emptiness. I finally get out of my comfy bed and look out the window. Everything is covered in white, to the point that I cannot believe my eyes. Could this really be reality? Has this city, this controversial metropolis, moved to Siberia somehow? The answer to that question is: Yes.

After 2 months of winter have passed, with maybe 2 flakes of snow falling, it finally happened. In one night, the whole city was covered with 50 centimeters of snow, becoming a clear deep white.
I loved it. Snow somehow makes me feel like home, although I don't know why. Maybe it reminds me of my childhood. Maybe I was born in the North Pole and a pack of wolves brought me far, to this European wasteland. But that doesn't matter. It is not the issue here.

What I forgot to mention is that I don't belong in this metropolis, I am but a mere visitor who came here to try and advance in life, without even knowing what that really means. No, I live some tens of kilometers further from here. And that was the issue in that day. I needed to get home, but I couldn't.
The road that leads to my original nest was closed. The snow covered the road in one night, and not even trains could travel safely. So I was stuck in the metropolis, somewhat being a stranger here, an outsider. At least I have shelter, I said to myself, while desperately thinking of ways to feed myself for one more day without having anymore gold, the local currency. Then, suddenly I got an offer I couldn't refuse, due to the physical emptiness that filled me from the inside. I was offered food for a day. So I stayed, surviving in the new formed wasteland for one more day, until I could go to my home, to safety.

It's now Thursday., the 26th. It is time to go home, I heard they made it possible to go on the road, the road to my home. I proceeded to packing my bags and my earthling belongings, and said Good Bye to the metropolis that sheltered me through tough times.
I am now on the road, the road that usually takes 1 hour to roam. As the bus moves along, I am afraid it would take me 14 hours to get home, as it happened to some unfortunate travelers one day prior, when it all started. The poor things.

We are just leaving the metropolis, for real this time, when I see a truck that seemed like it was a toy, thrown by the boy playing with it. It was almost upside-down, in the snow, at the exit of a forest. A few kilometers South, I spotted another truck, with a similar faith. This was serious, I said to myself. It was then that I realized the true power of the blizzard that passed through here. The power that I couldn't feel from my comfy shelter.

People on the bus are talking, they are all scared, whispering words of some accentuated terror, saying that some people died in this area last night. One of them was 20 years old. His car was covered by this white matter we call snow and he died due to asphyxiation. I started to feel something, it was the thought of me going through the same treatment, a thought that appeared when I realized that not long ago I was also 20 years old.

It passed, music in my ears calming me down, making me docile. I look out the window again. I see a long convoy of trucks, some were even road trains. These were the ones that transported food and merchandise from one country to another. The trucks were all dead, or in a state of deep coma if you will.

They were all stopped on the side of the road. I started counting them to pass the time. There were one, two, three, four, five, ..., eighty trucks stopped on the side of the road. They were waiting there, making a cord of about 5-10 kilometers long, in this wasteland that was the road to my home, without food or hot drinks. They were there since last night, waiting for the international road to be cleared, so they can go deliver their cargo, to store owners and people. Poor drivers.

I am almost home. About an hour has passed. A lot shorter than I feared. Our bus suddenly stops, nobody understands what is happening. Then I see. The road that should have led the trucks to their destination was cleared. The blue eyes wearing green retro-reflective vests were guiding us. The trucks started appearing one by one, making us wait for them to pass. I should have been angry, but why? I was not the one who waited for almost 20 hours in my car with no food and hot drinks. I did not have a right to be angry at the truck drivers. After let's say 10 minutes we were granted access to pass and see of our journey home.
It's starting to be dark outside. But I am almost home, I am calm.

I see the entrance to my small city. It only took 1 hour and a half to get home.
I have beat the white prince.
I am now safe.