Sickness Of The Young (9)
Mila was in the wood, in the grass of the field surrounding the lake in the open area through which the entrance was a strange place. So he got up and walked a few meters more, because in the rest of the world, there are only meters and we’re in a German wood here. Mila looked and saw the wood open up before him. Split in half-two equal sections, both about the same size. So what the hell? He walked right in. The leaves were shiny and the German wood was dark. There was a giant rat standing up on its back legs in front of Mila, smokin’ a joe. And the giant rat spoke first and addressed Mila, "Hey, how you doing?" "Well, not too bad, I suppose, about as good as a person can be in a lost German wood o tall pines." "You may need some help, my help, that is." "You think so? You got a smoke?" "Yeah, sure, hold on," the rat said and produced a second cigarette and lit it from the burning ember of his own and then put the new on in his mouth and handed his half-finished one to Mila. "Here ya go," the rat said. Mila took the smoke between his two fingers and looked at it a little heartbroken but then started smoking. The rat continued, "Matter fact, I know so." "Well, that’s cool, I mean right on, but I really want to know why you think I need your help." "Just trust me on this one, you need my help." "Alright, fine." "What you’ve got to do is get back on your path. You got off your path. See? Now, you’re more or less fucked unless you get back on your path. And I am not saying there is a time limit or anything, but hurry the fuck up." "Yeah, okay, but I don’t know where the path is anymore." "Not the path, you dumb ass, your path." "Hey, don’t get smart with me!" "I’m outta here," the giant rat said. Then the rat turned and walked away, back into the wood, flicking his cigarette into the grass on his right, the red ember flying into the darkness, his tail wiggling around behind him in a peculiarly wise way. Mila watched the rat go and felt a strange feeling flood over him. He slowly opened up his fingers and the cigarette dropped to the green grass of the German wood. Unknown to Mila, the giant rat paused, hidden by the tall German wood, and turned to watch Mila for a moment. Then, in a series of 1s and 0s, the giant rat spoke to Mila, who could hear him, although he did not hear him speaking and who was staring right at him, although he could not see him. And this is what the rat said: “10101010101010101010101011010100101010101010101010101010101010100 10101010101010101010101010110101010101010100101010010101010010101010010 01111111111111111111111111111111001010001000000111111111111111111111111 11111010101010100100101111111111111111111111111111110010110100100101010 01011111111111111111110101010111011101010101010101111111111111111110010 10110011010101010010101011111111111111111010101010101010100101010101011 11111111111111110101010101001010101001001010101111111111111111101010101 01001010101010101010111111111111111111001010101010101010101010110100111 11111111111111010101010101010101010101001101111111111111111101010101001 01010101010101011011111111111111110101010101010001010101010110011111111 11111111101010101010101010101010101010111111111111111111100101101010101 01010101010101011111111111111110101010101010101010101110001011111111111 11111010101010101010101010101010101111111111111111111010101010101101010 10111111111111111111111111111111111001101010101011111111111111111111111 11111111110100101010101111111111111111111111111111111110101010101001111 11111111111111111111111111111010101000101010101010101010101010110010100 10101011000101000101010100100101010101010010101010101011010101010101100 10110101010101101010101101010101101010010110010101010100111010101110101 00110000010101010101001010100100101000101001010100010101010100101010001 00010101010010001010001010010100101010011001010101010101101000101100100 10101001011000110111111111111100010101010101010101010101011100101111111 11111001010101010100110010101010101001111111111111100101010101010101010 10101010101011111111111110100101001010010101001010100101011111111111111 00010101010100010000000010101010111111111111101010100101001010010101001 01010010111111111111101010100100101000100000000000000011111111111100100 10101001010010101010101110100111111111111101010101010110011010101010010 10101111111111100010101010010101001010100101000100111111111111111111111 11100000000000000110101001111111111111111111111110110100101010100100111 01111111111111111111111101001101010101010101010111111111111111111111111 01000000010000000000001111111111111111111111100000000000000000000000000 10100100101001010100101010101010101010101010010101101111111111110001010 11101010101010100101010100111111111111001000101010110100100100101010111 11111111111111111001011011010010101010100101111111111111111111110101010 10101011111010101011111111111111111111110010010101010101010101111111111 11111111111111101001101010101010101011111111101010101111111111101010100 10101001011111111101010011101111111110100110101010101011111111110101010 11011111111110101000101000010001111111110101010111111111110101010100101 01011111111111110100101011111111101001001010011010101011111111111111111 11111111101111110110101010101010111111111111111111110101001001010101010 10101011111111111111111110100111010000101011010101100100111111111101010 10101001010101010101010101010010111111111101010100101010101010110101010 10101101011111101010101011010101010101011001010101101011010100101101010 10101010110101010101100101010101001010101010101011010101011111111111111 10101010010101111111111111001010101111111111110101001010101111111111110 10101010101111111110100101010101011111111110100010101001111111111100101 10100101111111111101010100110101111111111011001010010111111111111010010 10101011111111110010101010111111111110101010101001010111111111110110100 11111111101011001001010100101111111111100101111111111101010101010101001 01111111111111011111111111100101010100101010010101111111111001111111110 10101010011001010101010101111111111111111111010101001101010010101010101 01111111111111111010010101111111010101010101010011111111111010101010101 01001010101000101010100111111111110101010100101010110001011001001010110 10101010110101010101010010101101010101011011111111111111111111111111011 01000100000000001011111111111111111111111111001011001101010101011111111 11111111111111111101010100101010101010111111111111101010101000100000000 00000101010111111111111111100101010010000000000000000010100111111111111 11100101100110101010101010101001011111111111111100000000000000101001001 10101010111111111111111111111111111010110010110011010111111111111111111 11111111111101010101010101011111111111111111111111111111100101010101010 10101111111111111101010101010010101010111110101010111111111111110101010 10101010100111111101011011111111111111010110010101001010101111101010101 11111111111111100101001010101010110010101001001111111111111111111111111 10101010101011110100111111111111111111111111111010101010010010010011111 11111111111111111111110101010010101010101010100010101010010000000000000 00001010010101010001100001101010100101101011010101010101010101011001010 10101010110010101010001010010101001010101000010101010101001010101001010 11010010110111111111111100101011001011111111111100101010111111111100101 01001011010111111111110001010001111111110100101100100000111111111111100 00000111111111101010101010101100111111111110001010101111111110101010010 10110010111111111011001010111111111110101000101011111111111111110101010 10111111111111010101011111111111111100000000000111111111110011010111111 11111111110101010100101111111111110101001111111111111011001010100101111 11111111010101011111111111001010101010101010111111111111010101111111111 10101010010101010011111111111110101011111111111000000000000010101111111 11111000101111111111110101010101010101010111111111111111111111111111001 01101010101010011111111111111111111111111110101001000101010101011111111 11111111111111111100110101001010101001111111111111111111111111101010101 00101010101100111111111111111111111111010101010101010101010101011111111 11111111110101010101011001000010101011010101010101010010101010101010101 10100101010110101010101101010101000011001010101010101010101010100100010 10101010101010101011000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000 000000000000000000000XYZ.” Mila looked up at the ceiling, a little buzzed. Then he saw, even though his eyes were wide open, that he was inside a space. Not the same space as the feeling, but a space, nowhere near as large and open as the feeling. It was like a room with invisible walls. To his left, almost underneath somehow, a person started talking. What the voice said made no sense but I suppose it sounded like, "Stupid a-holeing why talk to me, speaking, squeezing, speaking in a speakeasy, common now, swim in one ocean, pink, pink, the ocean of Suzy Q is enough to boot…" The voices never make any sense but the drive to understand what is said, and why, to figure it out, to have closure, is unavoidable. While the voice was talking, another started up in his room within a room, "Jim, over here…" It was low at first, then there was a pause, and then it had Mila’s attention, "Jim! Hey! Jim, Jim, Jim!" Then that one stopped. Others started up like that, all distinctly different until there was a chorus, like standing in the center of a loud cocktail party where they’re all talking about you. Mila was wide awake the whole time, but like a man is awake while a knife is being pushed into his stomach, trying to stop it, reacting against it, and dying from it. Mila yelled in his head to stop but like being raped, they would not stop until they were done. At that point the voices had him. Now his emotions, his own feelings, his personality; all had been effected. To Mila, it was always like a battle. Maybe that is why he eventually lost. Sometimes, he might do something that another person would say is crazy. He didn’t do crazy things on account of any other person, no matter what that person might think or say to other people. He did it on account of being driven insane. Not crazy. I’m talking about bolting up out of nowhere, running downstairs and starting to cook bacon and eggs at two in the morning, all the while saying things like, "Alright, I am going to cook some bacon and eggs now, just like in the old days!" And Mila would continue. When were the old days? There were no old days and Mila knew it too. But, again, he was not talking to anyone else in the house. He was talking to the voices. Well, not really talking but reacting, or rather, taking some action against the voices. He was trying to go somewhere that they could not go to, trying to be something they could not be. And somewhere and something were to be only found back in the old days. Well, in a panic situation, when were the old days? About as close as Mila could get to the old days was cooking bacon and eggs. There is a lot more insane stuff to tell you about insanity but my head is starting to hurt. I have not even covered any of the dark side because you are not ready for that yet. Still, in all the universe, I say, we are the man. That is my sinister opinion. And in the moment is to be found the end of time. For the rest of his life, I am talking about for the rest of what was his life, Mila felt as if he was catching back up with his self; himself. He had once been a person, Mila could remember when…but that individual-a favorite army term-Mila loved the army because everybody was either third person or first person. There was no second person, no trying to chase your mind after a concept. The concept itself was there, right there, in your face in the army. Mila was shown exactly where It was. For example, here is what they said in the army that Mila liked, "There is no question, private, you are the problem!" Or, "why don’t you beat your face, now!" Now here was a question, but was it a question? No, it was a demand; there was no question. I am not even going to give it a question mark, for it mocked the very concept of a question, bravely challenged uncertainty with bravado! "You are about the most sorry fucking sack of dogshit I have ever seen in my entire life!" See how, well first, there is not even any conjunction, only you are-clarity for clarity’s sake. But the entire life is summed up, ‘that he has ever seen’. It was also difficult to do simple things like pushing a sled uphill in a dream. It seems easy but as you start to push in the dream the body starts pushing too, until both the body and the mind are pushing together in the dream; sometimes I wake up then. Walking across the street, something seeming easy, is actually very hard. Mila looked around all the time for the voices. See, when Mila was actually walking, subconsciously, he was watching because he was scared of them from before. But the problem was that he did not realize it at the time, as he was crossing the street, walking. So then, he was faced with the dilemma of why he was so scared. He did not know. And that, in turn, scared him too. This is what it means to be paranoid. With paranoia, voices, visions, confusion, alien feelings, and no sense of who you are, the only out is to destroy the illusion. You can live the illusion too, until you die, and I totally respect that decision. Destroying the illusion is no easy task and you win nothing for your effort, not even your self. You only get a second chance to have an opportunity to build a new self again. If you can, you still have to live with the past and I hope you like your new self. That is about it. Mila got very scared all of a sudden. He decided then and there that he would go not any further into the dark German wood any more. So he turned around and went home. About halfway back, maybe three quarters, he heard some noises inside of what he could only guess were some other noises. It was a jousting of sounds. Like a cat in the night, he rapiered his body into a contortion of wiggily parts and pieces, so freely moving. He darted up to a slender tree, crossed down over some crouched down low grass and got down on his belly, a flat space. Well, he had a gut. He looked and then he saw. Two knights, glistening in gilded armor were engaged in a sword fight of some various types, first with a flail and then mace, fist to cuffs, pommel about the noggin, some serious floggin, in a way akin to scroggin, scared like the first time we went downhill bellyface on a toboggan, wringing, wrangling, waxing with effort to prevail at all costs or they die. Their armor shone bright from the waxing gibbons moon’s light. Stars were out in the sky too. Some. "Clash, boom, bang!" "Rang, tang!" "Whoop, there it is!"
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