Two in one!

Two little stories I originally wrote for r/nosleep a long time ago, but since I am forcing myself to write, draw, code and publish all of the above, (let's see how long this one lasts) I'll be tossing some old works here and there. First, "Something is calling me from the forest":


I didn't want to come here, I wasn't thrilled, I didn't want to, I know it's bad. It will be bad, that is for sure, though I still don't know how.
It would have been worse to stay, though. I was shown the images... visions? dreams but they felt like they would happen if I wouldn't come. They'd last a few seconds, judging by the way things were after I saw them, but each one, at the time felt like it lasted... hours? I am not sure, it felt so wrong, both long lasting and not the kind of time we know as time. I can't really explain. I don't want to go into detail about the images; they were gruesome. I would bathe on... on their... I would bathe on their fluids. Not all is red, there is a share of yellowish green here and there an- this is why I don't want to go into detail about those images. If I didn't come to the forest, I would have lost my mind.
Not that this place is helping me keep it. At least I could leave a note, that I am not going back, not going to, no, no. It's dark out there, thoughts of how I ended up here are all harassing me as I try to make any sense of my surroundings. There was light as I walked in, coming from the ground, or maybe above the ground, far into the distance. I could feel something is twisted. Nothing decays, I didn't see any plants withering, the leaves on the floor are not even broken, the barks are smooth... but it feels murky, and smells faintly rotten. There is something that scares me more, though: all the trees are planted (or laid?) in perfect lines and there are no signs of animals or people coming here, or leaving trails, yet, I know the exact way I have to go through. I can't help but go, even though everything seems to be wrong, I know it will be awful, whatever it is, that awaits me there.
It has already started to be bad. Awful. I had this little bit of skin next to my left middle finger nail. I pulled it a bit, just a bit, and it came off with a bit of blood, no big deal. Then the wound turned black and went down to my knuckle, opening the skin and showing the muscle tissue. The skin around the wound dried up rather quickly, as I tried to stop it, but then I saw the muscle underneath wither and darken. I scratched furiously, dug the dried skin with my nails to reach the stiffened flesh, I scratched it all into little flakes of dusty dead skin, I peeled it all away leaving a mummified finger in the middle my of hand. I think I inhaled some of the skin dust.
Before I came here I was a normal person, normal life, normal dreams, normal ideas... I don't remember all the details. Or how it began to call me here. It was never nice. Or my concept of "nice" has changed since. Maybe both. Whenever I try to remember things that have nothing to do with this situation, they slip away from me, almost when I reach them.
Now I can hear water running. It is cruel, I didn't even bring a canteen. Ok, that was stupid of me. But I can't shake the urge to find water. I don't think I can. I'm getting tired. My neck is in pain andeverythingisstartingtorotatetotheright. Everything just... just on its own, but nothing is slipping away. I can't believe I didn't fall, but I am dizzy now. I have to walk funny to keep my balance, leaning to the left. I have to keep going. This is horrible. Not doing it would be worse. But the curiosity is the very worst. It's grinding my mind from the inside, it feels like something nested inside my conscience and wriggles inside eating its way out. I have to take a break.
I coughed so hard I fell. Then I noticed the forest didn't tilt to one side. My neck contracted to the left, and my left humerus and femur bones contracted some inches towards my ribs. They curled, too, so they are shorter than they used to. That doesn't worry me as much as my left eye, though. All I see with it is black, with pale white outlines of the trees around, and those things. Those black reptiles with big, empty eyes. There is one on each tree, some times twitching their thin, angular fingers. The worse part about those things is that they never blink. They never blink. I can't tell if they are watching me, because they have no pupils, but I can feel they are paying attention to me. It feels I know them too, but I can't remember much of my life prior to coming here anymore... did I ever?
I've been drooling and spitting this thing like egg whites, just a bit more watery. It's mostly see through, but it has small white veins. Or maybe branches. When it hits the ground, the white strips cluster together like iron shavings. It doesn't bother me, but it reminds me there is something trapped in the back of my throat, which I can't cough out. I'll try to trap it between my tongue and my finger... I forgot I was using that hand to walk. At least the impact with the ground helped my finger go really back and trap that thing. I can pull it out now. It's a mass of hair. A whole string, it keeps coming out as I pull. It's all out now, as thick as my wrist and longer than me. Most of it is hair. I wonder how it got there.
That tree over there is bulbous, some bulks are palpitating gently. They hum. The forest hums. This is what has given me a mild headache. So very mild I barely notice, but it has been going on since I stepped in... how long ago? I can't remember. I can't know, I can't tell anything apart, there is no sign of the sky, no wind. No way to tell the time.
I want to know why it curled my left limbs, it makes it difficult to crawl. I had a bit of an itch on my shoulder blade that went away when my humerus started to crack from the inside. That extended to the rest of my half. The half of my rest? the body of my half? I have to stop talking to myself.
...
No. No, no, no, no, no, no, no, no. No! I tried and the hum became very loud and the back of my conscience started buzzing, and the guilt stepped out of the dark and stung me, every inch of my body felt it, even the petrified finger. Actually make it hand, it's been extending down to my hand. Some of my teeth loosened and some fell. I couldn't close my mouth to stop them from sliding down to the ground. I am very close. My chest feels heavier as I approach. I can't rest.


It hurts to keep going as much as to stand still. My breathing sounds ill, my mouth is dry, my nose is working at half capacity and the hum won't stop. The petrification has spread up my shoulder to my cheekbone and waist. My left eyelid doesn't move anymore, it's stuck open. I don't care anymore. The sound of dripping water echoes inside me, I know I am close to it, and my destination. Soon I will know.
The trees around here are closer together, and smaller, so are the reptiles. I think they are part of the trees. I have yet to see one blink, but one hit its tail against the bark of its tree as I crawled past, struggling to inhale. It sounded like crackling cartilage. Or maybe it was my skull.
My bones were marked before I came to be. The more I hear the hum, the more I am convinced. I've decided to keep my right eye closed. Seeing in black and white makes more sense now, much more sense. I don't need depth, that's not useful. I just have to see them paying attention. These ones on the younger trees, they move more, they are thinner and spikier too. They all have a bigger right eye than left eye, I wonder if I should... AH! I didn't expect the sun. With my right eye. It's the worse feeling so far. I hate it. Hate it, hate it, hate it. My left eye doesn't work out here in the sun. I am on my way to the well. It's there where I should arrive. I am close. I'm limping as I crawl, I've worn out my extremities. I can see the black well form here. I am done with my left side, I'll only use the right. I've got some leaves in my mouth, I can't spit them out. I suppose I can just wait for them to fall out on their own. They are bitter.
I finally reach the well. It's a perfectly black, smooth cylinder, the sound of dripping water comes from within. I just have to put my hand on the edge. It will take most of the strenght I have left. I can... just a little bit more.
...
Ican'tmove. I can feel my body being frozen. My eyes are shut. I'm humming, it doesn't bother me anymore, because I am not hearing it, I am being it. My chin is on the ground, underneath there is a big seed poking at it. It's growing slowly, so slowly. Crack it grows sharper. Crack it pierces my jawbone, so very slowly. Crack as it grows branches, they engulf my molars, keeping my mouth half open. There is some goo accumulating right at the bottom. The stem keeps growing inside. I can't move, only feel. It's coming out from under my eyeball. It's pushing it, rooting on my forehead. On the bare bone. Why can I feel? Is this punishment? I am nothing, I do nothing, but I can still feel. Why? ...why?
Steps are coming my way.


"I ah... have been on that hiking trail a couple of times before. Nice view and stuff. I wasn't searching for a new path or anything; I was just crossing a narrow one. Sigh. My ankle gave in, I slipped and fell. Rolled even. I don't know. I landed on a place I have never been to, lots of trees, very quiet. I tripped on this big mess of hair and wires, about seven feet long. I have no clue what that was about. No, I didn't pick it up. I kept walking until I got to a glade, and I heard water, so I was relieved. I saw this cylinder, right? about four feet wide, coming up from the ground, metallic and smooth, all black. I thought it was weird and kind of short for a well, but hey, whatever." He inhaled, picking his next words carefully, sitting in front of an assistant at some random doctor's office, wondering if he would be dismissed as a mental patient. He continued as the assistant kept writing down his story.
"There was a sapling growing on the other side of the cylinder, and a few inches from it, resting on the edge, these leathery rolls. I went to check it out. The rolls were mummified fingers attached to a big chunk of hand. The arm was on the ground not far, and the rest of the corpse was there. It was… it was just... the spine was curled. Curled! The limbs of one side were resting inside the spine circle, bent in an unnatural way, uncomfortable to see. The other leg was clasped on the ground. And the head... It was looking up, all the way up. The sapling was growing out of it through an eye socket, and right above the socket there was this like carving, or mark, I am not sure, a crude drawing of a gecko.” He closed his eyes and collected his memory of the event. He felt the same chills that invaded him back then on the forest.
“That head was humming. I was startled at first, and then thought there should have been something inside it making that sound, so I pushed it up a little bit and it…” His eyes were wide open. “It howled in a way that made my blood freeze. It cracked and broke; the shards fell to the ground where there was a murky goo coming from the neck. The stench was…” He had to take a deep breath to push away the urge to vomit.
“I felt nauseous and I got the chills, man, I didn’t care what that was, I had to get out. I ran away, as much as I could. I don’t even remember half of it, I just thanked God when I saw the highway, fell to my knees and kissed the ground, no lie. Then I hitch-hiked. A trucker brought me here when I told him I needed a doctor.” He was done but the assistant expected more. He wrote everything down and got up to take the hiker to the next room, asking him to lie on the cot until the doctor was back from her lunch break. The hiker did, closed his eyes and tried to rest. Not a minute later he jumped off it violently to get to the window, where he saw his palm and mumbled something about a mark. The assistant couldn’t see anything out of the ordinary. The hiker growled some incoherencies as he tried to step out, but was met by resistance. He shoved the assistant to the desk, knocking down a vase on his way out, and ran away from the office.
“I have to go. I have to go.” He told himself.

So My Little Pony is a thing now

Which reminds me I was a little girl when the first version of the cartoon was showing on TV. Back then ponies were girly. And sweet. Disgustingly, artificially sweet. Stupidly, disgustingly, artificially sweet, with a touch of staleness.

Each frame was legally required to have at least 3% of pink, because it is girly.

The few things I remember about the cartoon were that they were all friends, everything was solved by the power of friendship (not teamwork, mind you, but the sheer fact that they were friends) and the stupidest part of it all: that they all called each other by their full names EVERY TIME. Ever. If one of them had just won an eating contest, and waited until a friend was done calling her name, she'd die of starvation and thirst. Oh and the names were unnecessarily sugarcoated, as well. Things like "Sugary stars of cuteness and happy togetherness!" or something. Each one had a monicker and the name was a description of the monicker and nothing else. All their names sounded like a list of perfume scent descriptions translated from English to Finnish to German to Latin to Chinese and back to English. Except Moondancer. You shush. That's a badass name and she was an awesome pony.

She kicks more ass than you will ever dream of. Shut up.

I had ponies, don't think I didn't. I had a thing for ponies, since before I can remember. Apparently one day I saw Blue Belle's star spangled ass and had to have it. Now it might sound bizarre to make such a remark about a mare's buttocks but bear in mind, 80s toys had a severe hard-on for rear ends. Ponies had their special talent represented on their butts, Cabbage Patch Kids had their creator's signature across one of their butt cheeks (and despite the fact that they were rag dolls, actually had two distinguishable butt cheeks), Care bears had a heart shaped birth mark on their asses and He-Man ran around showing off his muscular gluteus maximus every chance he got. And he made sure he had plenty of chances. It was so common that I expected every toy to had something marked, embedded or tattooed on their butts. No joke, every time I got a doll, I would get her naked and check for butt marks. Then she'd be put to float and dismembered, to be re-assembled, but that's another story for another day. Except I told all the story right now. Moving on.

But going back to the point (yes, I had a point) before I was fully conscious and capable of successful memory storing, I had already a blue and a pink ponies. Later, I had a baby unicorn pony, the aforementioned Moondancer, then a nursery and some more baby ponies, and a lot of playtime with them. I finally had contact with the cartoon, and oh boy was it awful. The TV started oozing ant repellent half an hour before to protect itself for the impending invasion it was that sweet. It was not the kind of sweetness one can stand, though, it was just aimlessly happy, stupid, and optimistic. I remember not caring about Rainbow Brite, for example, until I saw an episode where she got kidnapped. Finally some real conflict, not only "boo hoo a speck of gray on my bright colors". He-Man was jammed pack full of action, fights, muscles, cheesy one liners! So was She-Ra, plus she had some furry alien thing hiding randomly across the episode, inviting viewers to find it, a la find Waldo. But not My Little Pony, no. That cartoon dared do something different by being a torrent of niceness devoid of thrill. It had a blond girl and some whiny princess and it was the biggest waste of creative resources I had contact with in my childhood.

Durr.

They lived in a matriarchal tribal style, they were few or none males around, they didn't seem to have school, babies were kept in the nursery and the rest could venture ANYWHERE. Their land was green and fertile. There was food as far as the eye could see all around. They had unlimited freedom to explore, travel, experiment all around. On top of that, some were maremaids, some had wings, some had special magical horns and a few lucky ones had all of the above. All of it. Even the least adapted of those animals had no school, no parents, no predators, no schedules, no obligations to stay tied to a single place. They could run around naked, roll around in their own food and not only would nobody oppose that, it would be the most natural thing for them, it was within their nature. Sentient, intelligent, reasoning beings with virtually unlimited freedom. And all they did was run around their pastel stables and talk about friendship and be friends and be ever so pleasant. Later the toys started to pile up embedded gems (how painful would that be for a pony, damn you, Hasbro) protruding "cutie marks" (that can't be explained by anything other than tumors), shoes, hair clips and accessories, ridiculously feeble butterfly wings and finally metric tons of fabric, smothering the little bit of symbolic freedom the things had left.

So now that I see that being a bronie is a fun thing, it's like a bunch of 40 year olds would have found my pony nursery when I was 13 and did lines of coke off the furniture. I won't stop you, but I don't see you finding the awesomeness inherent to ponies either. Knock yourself out, though, you seem to be having fun.

Reflexions on rants of blondes about libraries and Asia

[I drafted this a while back, when it was relevant but I'll put it here because I can. I'll illustrate it too because the wee hours of the morning are a very strange time]

So, [recently] Alexandra Wallace became world wide (web) famous by ranting, recoridng it and posting it on Youtube.


This piece has sparked some interesting retorts, like this one:



So, even though this raises some serious issues, it has also given me a pretext to look at Asian men all day, which I admit is something I already enjoy quite often, but this extended the amount of eye candy I swallow per minute, so I am somehow thankful.

And I shouldn't- this is eroding our souls. Every single person who has came out and retort, contest, critique, parody and spoof this woman do so in some degree, to feel morally superior to her and that's no good (even if they are superior).

But now allow me to be a nice cynical (or hypocrite, whatever you prefer) and have a taste of what it is to feel morally superior to her. HERE WE GO!

Alexandra, let's ta- no no. Look at me, not the ceiling. Don't sigh so hard, don't be obvious, you are studying poli- ah right, you can't because of Asians. That's what I want to talk about with you. See, it's not Asians. It's you. There, I said it. No, no, no, I know you are about to complain and let me assure you this is not about the racism. Not entirely at least. Gotta admit that was very, very dumb. But dear, to the point. You miss the points. That's the point here. Point.

Fig. 1 The point

Um... worry not, I'll help you with a diagram:

Fig 2 The point's diagram

Fig 3 appears to be a purple scrotum

Am I patronizing you too much? Allow me to elaborate as of why I think you miss the point: Our first clue is that you make personal judgements based on race and not personality and it is wrong. To make this clear, here it is again. Don't make PERSONAL judgements based on RACE instead of PERSONALITY- let me help you further

Visual aids! (no, I don't mean this will give you AIDS in your eyes)

So, the pattern here is: IF YOU HAVE TIME TO DYE YOUR HAIR THAT UNNATURAL SHADE OF BABY SHIT, YOU SURE AS HELL HAVE TIME TO PICK UP THE BOOKS, CHECK THEM AT THE FRONT DESK AND GO TO YOUR ROOM.

Sigh.

Sorry I got excited. So in the very surface, the most shallow layer of this (your area of expertise) and seen from your own logic, these people are so not worth your time you should follow your own logic and NOT WASTE YOUR TIME ON THEM. I'm sure you also have things to say about lazy, loud Mexicans (AHEM!) so let's get this out of the way first:

Avobe, "ching chong, ling long, ting tong" in Mexican

The equivalent of "OOOH!"

Now let's go back to the points. The way you explain things, you really think it's not your fault at all to be annoyed by people that face a personal crisis, it's kind of not their fault, but yes, but culture, but the real criminal here is THE TSUNAMI! how dare it stir up uncivilized, tacky people? That only gets in the way of your personal glory and pursuit of the beauty that is truth. Just let me point out there is a truth that slips you at the moment: America is the entire continent. Don't believe me, go Google it. Every citizen of this continent is American. Like Europeans and Africans and -YES- Asians.

...you should know that by now. A country does not equal a continent most of the times.

...

Ah... this is the appropriate place to insert a little spoof of the part of your speech where you refer to your nice American manners, your upbringing and the impeccable way you told those people how to behave in "your" school, maybe substituting "America" for "humanity" and telling you how to be empathic, but honestly, if I ever utter such a cheesy, corny, cheap and annoying series of sentences at once I will be able to taste the staleness and decomposition for weeks, besides, I don't want that kind of garbage coming out of my fingertips even as an attempt at being funny.

In conclusion you miss two points that should be important to your life in general:

#1 There always will be something getting in your way, it is up to you to be responsible and find a way to finish your tasks instead of blaming the world for not letting you finish.

#2 You are not important because of what group you belong to, it's your actions. You are responsible for them, not the group you come from. Don't be a bigot just because bigots raised you. You can either choose to be objective and not judge people by anything other than their own actions and ideas, being a mature adult, or hate everyone just the same including yourself, climb down the enormous pedestal you put yourself on and for the love of anything that is sacred get a mirror and do something dignified with your hair.

Okay that last one is not mandatory but it is largely encouraged.

Have a nice life (if you work hard and deserve it, that is)

Just put your paws up

The video for Lady Gaga's "born this way" happened and boy is it pregnant with symbolism (you man insert here a rim-shot sound. It has a heavy charge of symbolic images of all kinds, but mainly it is all about femininity, masculinity, death and libido. Self destruction, self exploration and self acceptance (specially from the point of view of an outcast). Despite the simpleness of the lyrics, the video delivers a well structured look at what the journey to mature self acceptance is all about, how one wonders where one came from, where is one going, how there is good and evil, how there is masculine and feminine, what can be changed and how, if there is more people going through the same journey, if there is a group of them, finally to look at one self as a whole, without filters. That's there where one finds beauty. And all of this is accomplished with images and dance, and in the process Gaga gives birth to a machine gun, wears amazing skull makeup and RIDES A MOTHERFUCKING UNICORN. And needles to say, she also rocks my socks.

She caters to so many different people; her music, her costumes, her public appearances, her extravagance, each piece of her image is comprised of different elements, this video is the perfect example of that. It is also the perfect example of why some people strongly dislike her. Or are plain afraid of her. Or want to terminate her career (I of course do not include conspiracy theorists in this group, as they are more efficient at showing their own craziness rather than the Lady's). Whether or not you understand the symbolism, the images seem the product of drug fueled hallucinations, she does not attain to the ideal of beauty, she is exaggerated, the whole thing has a strong 80s flavor and more than once there are references to other singers' past work. She seems like the kind of woman that would greet you on the street and talk to you incessantly for an hour and a half jumping from a topic to the next without real connections. She seems insane. But actually

...that is insanity. And hilarious. But I digress. The rapid evolution of Gaga from whatever pop star of the month to monstrously famous crazy extravagant attention magnet have people wandering what happened. You can't say you didn't see it coming (if you payed attention) her early work as Gaga was more conventional, yes, but you can't find any kind of pissy princess there, she has always been somehow intimidating.

And she rides a motherfucking unicorn.