Nightbus

When I was a teen bound for school the next morning and I got in bed at 3 in the morning – or is that night? – I always felt like there is plenty of time left to sleep. And usually there was. I still feel the same way now, except that I’m not a teen anymore. And I am getting up at three.

Sadly I am not trying to be first in line for the gig of the century or at least to the show of the week. No, I am getting up for a more trivial reason, to raise the bar some more. So here I am, breathing on the window of a night bus. I could easily draw a cave painting like figure on the window, or, of course, an elaborate metal logo. Although a metal logo would surely be closer to me spiritually, the ancient figures seem closer to my skills. So I just wipe the bloody thing clean so I can look outside. Interestingly until yesterday I always sat on the left side of the bus and wasn’t really impressed with the view but then I moved to the right and was blown away by the change. It’s like it isn’t even the same route than before. Before we reached our destination my neck hurt like hell and – sadly – not because of a night spent headbanging. See how I always try to bring some metal in here? My neck hurt because I was looking outside constantly. And, as I stated before, I loved what I saw. Columns, buildings with towers, buildings without towers, towers without buildings. Light mirrored on water, dark, narrow streets that fade to black – oo, here comes the metal again, although I should be careful not be labeled a thief and get sued -, wide, gloomy streets that also fade to black. There, that shows you that following the light takes you nowhere. It’s strange how everything gets another aura through a night bus’s window, especially if that window is blurred by your and others people’s fumes. Need a wipe. That’s better. Everyone sits alone, by the window, in a simple line, like we are taking a test. Or maybe we are grounded, for getting up so early probably. Not leaving others sleep.

Bus stopping. No, I am not hearing this like I was the mind the doors routine on the tube. I see it, as I sometimes check the small screen in the front. Oh, have I mentioned that I am on the upper deck? Well of course I am. Only in London and any other town that has double-deckers. Double-decker buses that is. Bus stopping again. I don’t even know why I check it, I can hardly miss my stop, because – as always – I am going to the very last one. I do that, of course, so I can write more for you. Ehh, start to sound like a rating obsessed journalist. Anyway, colossal red and white brick building on the right, then the silhouette of a giant on its knees. I don’t know what that was or why it was there. Oooo, did you feel like the start of Raining blood is the ultimate Slayer moment of the album. I know about the wonderful riff flood of Jesus saves or the sizzling start of Criminally Insane. And obviously I am aware of the first track with its bad boy attitude but still, this holds the essence of it all. Yes, I am listening to Reign in blood while I walk on my own on the streets of London at 4 in the morning  It makes me feel like there is no evil in this world just flowers and angels like in their lyrics: infamous, butcher, ANGEL OF DEATH! Khm, khm…

I’m on the train now, I was writing all the way on the bus and time just flew by, it felt like the journey was shorter. Made me think about the so much praised powers of words, literature and arts in general. Not that I consider this art. Or literature. Just words. So there I was, walking in the shadow of an old train station surrounded by the London fog. I, a humble human being overwhelmed by the time bending properties of writing. Then I looked at my phone and realized that the trip didn’t feel shorter, the train actually arrived 7 minutes ahead of schedule. There there, chill down now, it shows you how easy is to jump to the wrong conclusions. I kind of lost it there for a second but now it’s back to normal. And if I mentioned Slayer before I’ll get back there for a bit. I guess most of you know, that on their third – first live – album Araya introduces a song by stating: “They say the pen is mightier than the sword, but I say fuck the pen, ‘cause you can die by the sword” This is kind of how I feel now, but I can’t explain this awkward parallel to you in depth. But if you know the first Batman movie from the Tim Burton series than you know that Mr. Joker Nicholson kills someone with a pen. Not with some reinforced steel pen but whit a normal, old fashioned “once a bird now a pen” pen. This doesn’t go anywhere, does it? But this train is and really fast too, although much smoother than the bus or the tube. So I’ll better get back to the giant and try to finish it off while I can.  The kneeling giant that could be a powerful metaphor on it’s own without knowing its actual meaning. I can easily imagine a serious family sitting on a bench near the statue listening with serious faces to their severe father, who of course would fill them in with all the facts and details –when, who, why and so on – about the giant, just like a walking Wiki. Then, lowering a seriousness just a bit he would share a couple of anecdotes that surround the statue or/and its maker(s). Seriously fun. The truth is, normally I would be interested in knowing all these and if I knew in advance that I am coming here I might be the one telling the stories as I would surely be interested and research the subject. Not sure about the needed seriousness though. But now it was just a silhouette in the dark and that is perfectly fine. Sadly it took me a long time to get this through – if it went through – and now I can see through the windows of the train – which is heated just enough to keep them clear – another shadow of another monster but I won’t write about this one. So I’ll disarm myself, but in the lack of a sword I only have a pen to lay down.

raining from Diabolus Dei on Vimeo.