Time for a Reality Check? (TBT)

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Posted in the Throwback Thursday weekly series
Poetry, photography, tales and things that nature!

Part Three of Reality? Who’s Brilliant Idea Was That?

reality?-rant

“It is strange because sometimes, I read a book, and I think I am the people in the book”

Time for a Reality Check?

So there I was, in the middle of the woods, all by my lonesome. No where to hide, no where to run.
I was in for a challenge. Not only because of me detoxing from the fiction I was greatly hooked up on at this point, but also living in an archaic house without any creature comforts.

I watched the car drive off, and then I was finally alone. Time to start the battle with the demons!
I went inside the wooden cabin finding a layer of dust settling on the surfaces. Sighing deeply and thinking ‘Welcome to the labour camp’. Placing my rucksack on the chair closest to me, I rolled up my sleeves and started cleaning up.

Windows and door open to get the air circulating. Making do with an old broom to swipe the floors. Luckily I had brought some cleaning wipes with me. Those would come in handy while dusting the surfaces.

A few hours later I looked around and the place was spick and span clean. It was time for the evening meal and I was unpacking my bag. I had several cans of food, some crackers and a juice canister. Now all I needed was water and wood!

The rest of my day went pretty much doing chors like cutting wood and hauling water from the well.
A few more hours went by and I was inside getting the wooden stow started. When the fire was burning nicely, I opened one of the cans, pea soup of course, good for any camper!

It was night fall and I had my little oil lamp burning and the fire was going keeping me warm. It had been a little bit of an effort, but luckily some smart Alec had written instructions now hanging on the wall next to fireplace.

So there I was without a care in the world, my stomach full with soup and juice. I was wondering how people managed to get anything else done in the olden days. Most of the daylight hours seemed to be wasted on cleaning and gathering necessities for meal preparation.

Then I realized I needed to use the facilities. Unfortunately there was only an outhouse and it was a bit tricky to navigate there in the dark. I had my torch with me so that helped a little. I just hoped no wildlife were close by feeling peckish and thinking I was food.

The routine for the two week period was pretty much the same every day. Get up at dawn, because the birds were screaming in the trees, hunt and gather for nourishment. The cottage grounds actually had a pretty good assortment of various berries and luckily it was the season for most of them.

In the end, I did not even miss reading, anything, fiction or otherwise. I didn’t have time, when the real life hit me hard, and using a log to do it!

Let’s see what happens when I finally get back home, where all the temptations await me!

reality-check-101-4c

It’s A Human… No, It’s A Drag Race! (TBT)

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Posted in the Throwback Thursday weekly series
Poetry, photography, tales and things that nature!

Dame Edna Everage Tour

“We are all born naked and the rest is Drag” – RuPaul

It’s A Human… No, It’s A Drag Race!

This is Ixavier Lasloth coming live from the Galaxy near you!

Our news team is currently orbiting a small bluish rock in the farthest corner of the known universe. We are here to observe the supposedly dominant occupants of this planet they have named “Earth”. These people seem to be involved in something called the “human race”, although as to where and when the race will take place is still unclear.

We are here to observe the ritualistic behaviour of this particular species, whose skin colour is varying from a pinkish hue to darker brown shade or sometimes even red. Some of them are covered in a thick fur like layer, while others remain neutral and satisfied in their original skin.

We are in disguise to avoid any panic our strange appearance may cause in the inhabitants.

Upon closer inspection, we can clearly detect at least two distinctive sexes, but there may be more.

Although most of these creatures seem to be content in their existence, some of them rebel against the existing norm. These individuals have ventured to live their lives with their own set of rules and formed tight knit groups and living off the radar. These “outsiders” worship their heroes in an almost religious fashion.

This exceptional behaviour is the reason, why this reporter landed on this forsaken rock and decided to have a closer look.

After making contact with some of these “radical groups”, we were fortunate enough to get invited to observe one of their many rituals. The core group and their followers call themselves “De-rag Q-ueens.

We were invited to observe their masking ritual, reserved for the most elite individuals of the group. The “males” as we got to know them were performing an age old ceremony named the “drag race”.

Observing the ritual to a fault, there is a strict regime to follow:

The first step is to apply a thick layer of paint on the face. The next step is to add a head piece, which seems like a construct of some sort of animal hair. These headpieces come in every imaginative colour of the rainbow. To complete the transformation, a garment weaved with glittering items is pulled over the top half of the body. The feet are covered with footwear constructed from a leathery material and with an added feature, which seems to give the wearer more height.

When the total transformation from “male” to “female” was complete, it was time to “put on a show”.

The Q-ueens lined up and started walking in orderly fashion on what seemed to be a structure of wooden planks they had named the “cat walk”. A rhythmic beat followed by electrical lights flashing caused the Q-ueens to start producing sounds from their throats causing melodic sounds coming out from their mouths. This ritual was of a repetitive nature, where the melodies and sounds varied depending on the individual performing them. The “show” continued and the partakers managed to change their attire several times over before the ceremony was over.

All in all while observing this religious ritual in all its glory, this reporter found oneself caught in the moment; cheering and applauding at the end of the ceremony, which luckily was the accepted social convention.

While trying to get more in-depth information as to what the origin of this particular ritual was, I was fortunate to interview one of the elders among them. And the message, quite clear and directly quoted:

“We may be born naked, but surely the rest needs to be drag”
In this reporter’s opinion, this may be one of the more successful stories of Earth.

Until next time, this is Ixavier Lasloth, signing off!

dame-edna-everage-barry-humphries-taking-over-adelaide-music-festival

Treasure Hunters, Part Four

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Part four of the Treasure Hunter Series;
The continuing saga being published weekly for Serial Sundays

BACK TO PART THREE

 

“Time travel … will never be impossible forever”

Treasure Hunters, Part Four

“Welcome on board!” The cabin boy said to me. It was actually the first time I heard him speak and I was surprised he sounded more like a girl than a young boy.

“Thank you!” I think. I just wasn’t sure.

The crew had finally turned in for the evening. Or rather passed out in various places around the court yard, which also served as the dining area with its large table setting. In the middle, the fountain was set up and it was circulating fresh water. A quality I at least appreciated. After all the rum, it was a nice and certainly refreshing welcome. Today had turned out a cloudless sunny day and despite the nice and warm climate, it was still a little too hot for my taste.

Tonight’s event had been an interesting one to say the least, with all the dirty jokes flying around and chanting of sea related songs. The drinking had been nothing if not heavy and the chalices were passed around frequently. Everyone, including us minors, were expected to take part in the festivities. From an outsider’s perspective, it seemed like a text book cliché of how the pirates behaved, at least so far.

From what I had found out, this safe harbour was shared by several crews. It seemed the pirates were well organized and there wasn’t too much fighting going on between the various groups. At least not when a meal and rum was shared.

I had managed to get into the sleeping quarters and was now standing in the window watching, as the last of the crewmen dozed off. Luckily for me, my bunk mates for the evening were all passed out and lying outside, meaning I had the room for myself for tonight. Lord knows I could use a good night’s sleep. After today’s events, namely being whisked off to what seemed back in time. Walking barefoot for miles on end and to top it all, spending the evening participating in pirate festivities, were starting to take a toll on me. I may have looked like a young cabin boy, but inside I still felt like the middle aged old me.

I closed my eyes and I wondered if, when waking up again, I would be back home and realizing this, what ever this was, had all been a dream. After all, it all seemed so unreal. I listened to all the strange sounds for a while, before sleep caught up with me.

 

TO BE CONTINUED IN PART FIVE

wormhole_v2_by_acidcliff

It’s A Human… No, It’s A Drag Race!

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Gun Roswell's avatarRantings Of A Third Kind

“We are all born naked and the rest is Drag” – RuPaul

It’s A Human… No, It’s A Drag Race!

This is Ixavier Lasloth coming live from the Galaxy near you!

Our news team is currently orbiting a small bluish rock in the farthest corner of the known universe. We are here to observe the supposedly dominant occupants of this planet they have named “Earth”. These people seem to be involved in something called the “human race”, although as to where and when the race will take place is still unclear.

We are here to observe the ritualistic behaviour of this particular species, whose skin colour is varying from a pinkish hue to darker brown shade or sometimes even red. Some of them are covered in a thick fur like layer, while others remain neutral and satisfied in their original skin.

We are in disguise to avoid any panic our…

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Time for a Reality Check?

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Part Three of REALITY? WHO’S BRILLIANT IDEA WAS THAT?

reality?-rant

“It is strange because sometimes, I read a book, and I think I am the people in the book”

Time for a Reality Check?

So there I was, in the middle of the woods, all by my lonesome. No where to hide, no where to run.
I was in for a challenge. Not only because of me detoxing from the fiction I was greatly hooked up on at this point, but also living in an archaic house without any creature comforts.

I watched the car drive off, and then I was finally alone. Time to start the battle with the demons!
I went inside the wooden cabin finding a layer of dust settling on the surfaces. Sighing deeply and thinking ‘Welcome to the labour camp’. Placing my rucksack on the chair closest to me, I rolled up my sleeves and started cleaning up.

Windows and door open to get the air circulating. Making do with an old broom to swipe the floors. Luckily I had brought some cleaning wipes with me. Those would come in handy while dusting the surfaces.

A few hours later I looked around and the place was spick and span clean. It was time for the evening meal and I was unpacking my bag. I had several cans of food, some crackers and a juice canister. Now all I needed was water and wood!

The rest of my day went pretty much doing chors like cutting wood and hauling water from the well.
A few more hours went by and I was inside getting the wooden stow started. When the fire was burning nicely, I opened one of the cans, pea soup of course, good for any camper!

It was night fall and I had my little oil lamp burning and the fire was going keeping me warm. It had been a little bit of an effort, but luckily some smart Alec had written instructions now hanging on the wall next to fireplace.

So there I was without a care in the world, my stomach full with soup and juice. I was wondering how people managed to get anything else done in the olden days. Most of the daylight hours seemed to be wasted on cleaning and gathering necessities for meal preparation.

Then I realized I needed to use the facilities. Unfortunately there was only an outhouse and it was a bit tricky to navigate there in the dark. I had my torch with me so that helped a little. I just hoped no wildlife were close by feeling peckish and thinking I was food.

The routine for the two week period was pretty much the same every day. Get up at dawn, because the birds were screaming in the trees, hunt and gather for nourishment. The cottage grounds actually had a pretty good assortment of various berries and luckily it was the season for most of them.

In the end, I did not even miss reading, anything, fiction or otherwise. I didn’t have time, when the real life hit me hard, and using a log to do it!

Let’s see what happens when I finally get back home, where all the temptations await me!

reality-check-101-4c

Reality? Who’s Brilliant Idea Was That?

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Part Two of Serially Lost in Fiction

reality-check-101-4c

“Losing an illusion makes you wiser than finding a truth”  Ludwig Borne

Reality? Who’s Brilliant Idea Was That?

“You really need to pull it together and clean up your act!”

The words still echoing in my head from the intervention. The whole thing had made me extremely angry. But after my initial tantrum had subsided, I was willing to admit I had a problem.

So now, I needed a plan, but it was going to be hard. I had two choices, to gradually wean myself off of all that fiction and fantasy or go cold turkey. I estimated it would take around two to three weeks or so either way. I chose the latter option. I did not trust myself, suspecting the gradual way I would only make excuses and not read any less.

The options at hand would be then to:

a) Get rid of every single piece of technology or readable book.
b) Lock myself in an empty room at home.
c) Travel to a far away place, preferably a cottage in the middle of the forest somewhere without any creature comforts.

I chose plan c. It seemed the best option, since my family owned a cottage some hundred kilometers up north. There was no electricity, no running water, basically nothing but survival against the wilderness. Well, to be honest, the nearest shop was only five kilometres away, so not a god forsaken place after all.

Since the margin of me running off mid process, my family opted to drive me there and I would then have a bike to use for my trips to buy groceries. And that being my only option of transportation, it would be highly unlikely I would run off on a bike.

So it was agreed and I was on my way to the cottage in the woods with only my necessities.

reality?-rant

Next stop: Time for a Reality Check?

Serially Lost in Fiction

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“Row, row, row your boat, Gently down the stream.
Merrily, merrily, merrily, merrily, Life is but a dream.”

Serially Lost in Fiction

Writer’s note: This content is the work of pure fiction and is in no way associated to the writer ;P

The best guideline for any writer is to read, read and read some more. With all available resources, carrying a “book” around is easy as pie and you can read anywhere. There is a downside to this though and I found that out the hard way: I got caught between the realm of reality and fantasy.

It started slowly, reading a short story here, another there. Then things started to escalate. I was hooked up on longer stories, even sequels and serial ones. It had gotten to the point where I was reading on the bus stop, in the bus, at lunch, on coffee break. When I got home from work I could not wait to rush through my daily chores and emerge myself in more stories.

Feeling like the children who found Narnia, I was devouring all kinds of the stories. Re-enacting some of them in my sleep. Even taking part in conversations with my imaginary new friends in my head.

Staying up until late hours, reading, reading, reading. Sleep was scarce, almost non-existent. Drinking lots of coffee was the only remedy to somehow muddle through my work days. Even during the day fantasizing of the time I was back home and able to fully concentrate on my reading.

Then I got a wake up call. It was in the form of an intervention from my family and friends. I was on my way from work like usual and happily thinking on my next read. And there they were, sitting in the living room, waiting for me. Not a tablet, laptop, book reader nor an actual book in sight!

They sat me down gently and told me in no small way how my constant reading was affecting them.
I could not believe they would dare confronting me like this. After all, I was only reading for leisure.

Bewildered and utterly distraught I dwelled in self pity for a few days. Locking myself in my room and reporting in sick. I decided “to hell with it” and emerged in even more reading. For four days and four nights apart from potty breaks I read anything and everything.

After those days, I guess something got me thinking. Could have been the sleep deprivation, could have been the fact I had hardly eaten, but I realized I was in over my head. Then and there I decided it was time for a change.

 Next stop: Reality? Who’s Brilliant Idea Was That?

It’s A Human… No, It’s A Drag Race!

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“We are all born naked and the rest is Drag” – RuPaul

It’s A Human… No, It’s A Drag Race!

This is Ixavier Lasloth coming live from the Galaxy near you!

Our news team is currently orbiting a small bluish rock in the farthest corner of the known universe. We are here to observe the supposedly dominant occupants of this planet they have named “Earth”. These people seem to be involved in something called the “human race”, although as to where and when the race will take place is still unclear.

We are here to observe the ritualistic behaviour of this particular species, whose skin colour is varying from a pinkish hue to darker brown shade or sometimes even red. Some of them are covered in a thick fur like layer, while others remain neutral and satisfied in their original skin.

We are in disguise to avoid any panic our strange appearance may cause in the inhabitants.

Upon closer inspection, we can clearly detect at least two distinctive sexes, but there may be more.

Although most of these creatures seem to be content in their existence, some of them rebel against the existing norm. These individuals have ventured to live their lives with their own set of rules and formed tight knit groups and living off the radar. These “outsiders” worship their heroes in an almost religious fashion.

This exceptional behaviour is the reason, why this reporter landed on this forsaken rock and decided to have a closer look.

After making contact with some of these “radical groups”, we were fortunate enough to get invited to observe one of their many rituals. The core group and their followers call themselves “De-rag Q-ueens.

We were invited to observe their masking ritual, reserved for the most elite individuals of the group. The “males” as we got to know them were performing an age old ceremony named the “drag race”.

Observing the ritual to a fault, there is a strict regime to follow:

The first step is to apply a thick layer of paint on the face. The next step is to add a head piece, which seems like a construct of some sort of animal hair. These headpieces come in every imaginative colour of the rainbow. To complete the transformation, a garment weaved with glittering items is pulled over the top half of the body. The feet are covered with footwear constructed from a leathery material and with an added feature, which seems to give the wearer more height.

When the total transformation from “male” to “female” was complete, it was time to “put on a show”.

The Q-ueens lined up and started walking in orderly fashion on what seemed to be a structure of wooden planks they had named the “cat walk”. A rhythmic beat followed by electrical lights flashing caused the Q-ueens to start producing sounds from their throats causing melodic sounds coming out from their mouths. This ritual was of a repetitive nature, where the melodies and sounds varied depending on the individual performing them. The “show” continued and the partakers managed to change their attire several times over before the ceremony was over.

All in all while observing this religious ritual in all its glory, this reporter found oneself caught in the moment; cheering and applauding at the end of the ceremony, which luckily was the accepted social convention.

While trying to get more in-depth information as to what the origin of this particular ritual was, I was fortunate to interview one of the elders among them. And the message, quite clear and directly quoted:

“We may be born naked, but surely the rest needs to be drag”
In this reporter’s opinion, this may be one of the more successful stories of Earth.

Until next time, this is Ixavier Lasloth, signing off!

 

edna