I can count the number of people I’d call friends on two hands. This has less to do with the quality of people I’ve met in my life than it has to do with my extreme introversion, laidback paranoia, and intermittent as-the-Germans-say ‘Je ne sais vhat?’
This past week I saw a friend of sorts get eaten. There was this mostly unremarkable beetle-like creature up at the cottage who decided to hang out with me, as I sat on the porch overlooking the Lake of Bays, reading modern contemporary philosophy (pro-Wrestler bios). The one interesting feature on the little guy was this fantastic set of antennae protruding from its head, beautifully segmented and reflective of a bug-like influence in my own artwork, largely passed down via inspiration from far better insect-based artists such as Newton Ewell.
So anyways, this great little creature actually looked much more like a fat bumblebee while it flew through the air, and it was clumsy and slow enough to do a good impersonation of one. It landed near my feet, turned itself towards the lake, and didn’t move or flinch as I shifted around in my chair and moved my feet around to test its reactions. It just hung out with me, like it was comfortable. I was certainly comfortable with it – insects like me and I tolerate them. Bees, damselflies, even wasps – they’ll land on me and go along for the ride.
Guess I’m just lucky.
After an hour or so, it launched itself into the air, obviously realizing it was late for this appointment or that, or for no reason whatsoever (I tend to vote for that explanation), and then careened gracelessly into a nearby tree, ruffling the foliage around it, like some kind of metaphor for a simile.
That night, in the cottage, it made its way in and did another goofy nosedive into the corner of the living room. I say ‘it’ without knowing whether or not it was the same ‘it’ that hung out with me previously, or for that matter whether ‘it’ was ultimately the same ‘it’ that would end up getting eaten, or whether or not what was ultimately eaten was my little friend – all I’m saying is that among these semi-conditional ‘Was I or wasn’t I that bug’ pre-conditions, I’m pretty sure it was all the same bug.
Anyways, the next day, I was once again sitting and reading on my cottage’s front porch – I’m not sure which logical conclusion (ie. Wrestler’s early death) I was at, but I paid only mild attention as what I believe was my goofy little friend landed on the railing near me and once again, just hung out while I broadened my literary horizons.
At some point I heard crunching. Apparently I was one enough with nature at that moment to not particularly care to look up immediately at the source, but eventually I did – and there was a cute little bird on the railing, with the remains of my friend sticking out of its mouth.
Before this point I never understood the enormous acclaim critics had afforded the film ‘Troll 2′, but coming to the quick realization that my friend was being eaten – just as the boy in Troll 2 suddenly realized his mom was being eaten by the denizens of Nilbog (oh shit, ‘Nilbog’ – that’s Goblin in reverse! so clever!) – my response was ‘Hey, what the fuck!?’ and for the first time in my life I chased away a little bird from a big porch.
In retrospect, it may have had a dragonfly in its mouth, and maybe my friend is fine. Though I also like dragonflies, so…
On to artwork – I drew’d the following Warhammer 40K vector art in Inkscape during (part of) my cottage time.