The happy place

I’ve long been wanting to write about dwarves. They’ve risen in my eyes.

I quit my job the other day. I feel unburdened now, light as a feather but still with a gnawing sense of unease at what might come next. It was from Paradise Hotel that I learned that you cannot put a leash on a wolf, and I have been leashed and it is that leash which has been chafing me and now its absence feels thrilling. So it’s true for a donkeys too.

I’ve been talking with my best friend when we were having 1on1 about which Patronuses we had, you know like in Harry Potter and I knew without thinking that I was (mine was) a donkey. (He is a bear). (This professional exchange is one of greatest significance in my life). I shall point out here, just because it matters to me (but has no bearing on this text in general) that this friend he too has a faiblesse for Dwarves (at this time I identified more closely to elves however)

Some might say that having a Donkey as a Patronus is some sort of self-deprecation but then they forget that Jesus rode into Betlehem on a donkey, to which they might counter that it was the symbolism of riding on a donkey of all animals which really made the point of Jesus’ so humble mindset, to which I’d say exactly.

Indeed.

Anyway so the dwarves, I’ve been listening again to Wind Rose, and once again I am struck by how a band can have six full-length albums without a single bad track, but mostly about the profound lyrics.

I see now the grim dignity of the Dwarves unyielding existence, how they stack on the walls even though they know they will all die. (I would also draw examples from lord of the rings, but for some reason those books didn’t make the same impact on me. I reckon it was the power metal element which finally opened my eyes. (Or the books were read at a point in my life when I wasn’t really receptive to the rich symbolism in there)).

Dwarves toil endlessly, are fiercely loyal and unyielding.

Dwarves are headstrong too, just like donkeys.

Their vices are greed and possibly gluttony.

So back to the point I am making:

I shall draw power from my inner dwarf as I now venture into a new chapter of my professional life, and if need be, I’ll call on my donkey Patronus.

I don’t remember what autumn smells like, maybe vaguely of compost or something, but I think it might have smelled like that today, at least a little, as I was walking taking some trash to the recycling bins. It was sunny and a bit warm outside. The first yellow leaves lay scattered on the parks’ lawns, sparsely like one leaf or so per tree. I guess it would more likely have smelled of summer still, like I don’t know, I don’t remember that either but I guess plants? Like plants?

The cute little black dog wasn’t very happy about the route as he doesn’t like to venture too far from his known territory and I was getting a headache.

It came suddenly, blazing all the way through the skull to the teeth, like I pictured Harald Bluetooth would’ve felt all of the time.

I think it’s the cold I’ve been having these past few days which might have caused this, at least partially, like a final stroke of that cold.

Having reached my destination, as I was stuffing the folded cardboard into the opening of the steel container recycling bin, a wasp flew out drowsily. She was at the end of her short life span, as these worker wasps are seasonal creatures who will die when the cold comes unfortunately (for them).

She appeared to be angry, but I think it’s the stress of finding food and the urgency which might come when death draws near and having nothing to lose is what causes the aggressive and reckless behaviour.

In one way I could relate as I too was irritable from having a dog who wanted to go the opposite direction and a headache I could feel my pulse with. And also the sweat; cold sweat on my forehead.

Anyways as I was walking the way back home, the dog now pulling the leash eagerly, the wasp followed me like a bad omen. least I thought I saw a glimpse in the corner of my eyes half way back home. By then the headache had subsided and I felt numb.

I was numb and sweaty, no longer burdened by the trash, the headache or the wasp. The dog was eager. Home we went to where the coffee was waiting, and I know what it smells of: coffee. I had put a coffee on before we went, and it was on the machine we bought when we (my wife and I, not the dog) were poor so it doesn’t have a timer. Which was good this time for it was still hot when we came home.

I miss the smell of coffee

Some quick highlights:

The kindle suddenly charges again, which means I’ll be able to see how it’ll go for Geralt. It’s quite a mess they’re in now to say the least.

I helped an old lady get on the sidewalk with her rollator today, it was red metallic and weighed next to nothing as I helped lift it onto the sidewalk, she thanked me and complimented me on my socks — there are wolves in them — She seemed to also weigh nothing at all and also she seemed very brittle.

It’s been warm and cold and I’ve gotten a cold.

I’ve been feeling good and bad.

But I am alive.

The dogs are alive too.

Yep yep

yes I’ve picked up my new glasses they are rounded because I have changed. Rounded like a librarian’s or someone who is about to make a profound work of art someday.

It’s a blessing to not be wearing sunglasses when looking at the screen, and it did lift my mood considerably.

I went out after work, after the rain. It was sunny but the paving stones were still wet and the air felt fresh, and on the sky there were thick clouds but somehow they were blue. For some reason I was listening to Cranes (the music band) because maybe I felt sentimental having had this odd dream last night.

There was a raid by the poke gym nearby. It’s really a fountain but in the augmented reality it doubles like I said as a poke gym. It was where I went to meet my wife for the second time, long before we married, long before Pokémon go was invented, I barely knew her back then, only that she was the most attractive woman I’d ever seen and with such a fascinating personality too, which made awestruck. She had big rings in her ears and a leather jacket from some thrift store or something, and she was really tough but anyway so the raid.

There by this fountain — a big greenish bronze statue with some fish spewing water in a ring from the bottom of this circular basin — were two extremely cool looking fellas, with trucker or baseball caps sitting casually on a green bench nearby, one of them running a cable from his phone to concealed power bank. I could see they were level 50.

I didn’t venture too near while counting down I just circled the area and didn’t talk to them. For example what would we talk to each other about? Why I have a female avatar in the game? (That’s cause here in this game I get to choose).

Anyway the raid started and it was an ugly looking black Pokémon who I would’ve guessed was a ghost but apparently was of type “psycho” which were then quickly decimated and I caught it but didn’t even appraise.

I did however add these two guys, you can do this now in the summary screen, and will now proceed to exchange gifts with them every day.

And now I am sitting comfortably in an antique white armchair.

O yes I got to hear today that i was in the high performer (top) bracket, earning the max designated pay raise.

I just had the dream that:

I was with my daughter and her cousin (my nephew?). They were having fun and playing the computer games or something, getting to know each other.

And then my sister came, she introduced herself to them and I felt affectionate towards her; I had missed her a lot. We went for a walk to discuss how angry and disappointed I was with my (our?) sister. She agreed about everything, so we talked like this in deep confidence about how betrayed I felt. Only then did I realise that she was the one I was talking both to and about (?), but she said it wasn’t her; it was someone else: It was important to her to point out that it wasn’t her her but another her, like she was split in two; the bad version wasn’t the one I was talking to, the bad one was in a mental hospital.

I almost believed her but then I remembered that I have no brother (whatever this has got to do with anything) and that she is my only sibling (this made sense to my dream logic, and was somehow important).

Suddenly I saw her face really clearly, bright like in a dressing room, or like caught by the flash of a camera: The face from when she was younger, pale and rose-cheeked with the red wart in it glowing like a lit RGB diod. Like a warning. I felt a horrible sadness then, almost suffocating, and woke up from this cruel nightmare.

Too bad about the rain. The ice cold shower or downpour which has completely spoilt my original plans and instead I have opted this weekend to lay on the sofa, warming myself on the warmth radiating from the various fireplaces in this beautiful somewhat ragged old house. and isn’t that something?

The nights are getting very dark, stars barely visible, and no moon. The windows completely black like someone’s shut them off and thus shrinking my world to this warm and reasonably lit house, the house with wine. Red wine radiating warmth just like the fireplaces I just described, except on the inside. Like I was a beautiful somewhat ragged old house myself.

This ominous autumn weather of shivers and darkness of course leads the thoughts to the Occult. How could it not?

Vampires for example, love red wine (except it’s blood in the goblets. It’s the goths who drink the wine instead).

Vampires are also sensitive to light and therefore opt to wear sunglasses especially since they sometimes get red or yellow eyes (unnatural). My sunglasses I take off on Tuesday when my new ones arive.

I’m running out of taco spice.

On the

hello!! Please enjoy reading this text where I capture a moment of significance in my life:

When I finally got the glasses in my twenties or something, I stopped to look at the lush canopy of an alder (or similar, I am no subject matter expert) planted in a grate or a pit in the sidewalk and I remember seeing all of the green leaves, each individually distinguishable and I was awestruck that reality had such great graphics.

I remember it as being a clear blue-skied day and it was early summer and it was mild. And in my heart I was warm and mild. I was listening to the “blue skied an’ clear” Slowdive tribute album, which was introduced to me by my sister’s boyfriend — he is one of the greatest guys I’ve ever met — on my mp3 players in my headphones. They had cords back then.

I had had an ambivalent attitude towards glasses, I remember once in high school I had just gotten off the scales the little nurses’ office, and they had just said 95kg, which she asked if it troubled me because it was considerable over weight for my length but I lied and said no. Sometimes a lie can spare a lot of trouble. And the nurse having then investigated my eye vision said I would need glasses to which I said nothing, but in my mind I thought no: I had enough on my plate already to even consider such a preposterous idea. I didn’t after all wear any glasses.

But the shame I did feel and the posture which made me crooked had with time shaped me into a humble and mild Swan like graceful tall and handsome young man, so now standing there, gazing heavenward with the music in my ears, seeing each individual leaf, feeling the gentle warmth of the sun on my beautiful (I think so) face, thinking to myself what a fine life this is after all.

Today when we arrived we did see a drug fiend!! picking up garbage, dropping things, picking them up again, disappear out of view, only to return moments later unsteadily on a bike laden with treasure and then finally wobble out of view more permanently but maybe not forever.

♾️

The sky is dark blue, not black. Not a single star can be seen on there. It isn’t cold, but it isn’t warm either.

I was elated today, because everything I feel, I feel it strongly. Many songs I have been listening to lately have felt to me as the

Best songs with the best lyrics ever written, leaving me deeply moved even though I have heard them hundreds or thousands of times before.

There is an incredible beauty to this world, the glittering of snow and the glittering of stars, and the glittering of glitter all are precious in their own right and what a pleasure to live in a world so beautiful!

but it takes so little to punctuate this balloon of happiness I sometimes seem to soar only to crash and then what? I try so hard to blow these balloons up, and I have so many, but I am getting old and my lungs aren’t what they once were.

It’s because I have such a wide open heart !! It is the double edged sword (the yin yang) for I love to feel things because that is to live.

But to go into this dangerous world unarmed is foolish because there are drug fiends, dangerous psychopaths lurking in street corners, and peddlers of lies! Or people who cannot admit that they are at fault, and worst of all traitors!

Speaking of balloons about to burst, my friend he thinks that the AI bubble is about to burst soon, and that’s because of unhinged investors and risk capitalists.

Beware!!

It’s not like you might picture me laying here on the sofa next to two lovemaking dogs feeling sorry for myself, that’s not the case at all. No, no! I am conducting some soul searching, turning bad memories into (some might say) beautiful anecdotes. It’s more akin to a brave exploration of the dark places, similar to the Journey to the Center of the earth, shining a thin ray of light from the metaphorical submarine to look if there’s gold glittering down there.

so following up on the previous post on a similar theme, as my brain drew a new connection, this memory follows too:

My cousin who I love dearly moved in to live with us briefly during a period of my life when I was young and miserable. She frequently had a need for something girl time related and therefore I was often left out, because even though I had some pretty feminine mannerisms, I was a boy.

Once I came knocking on my sister’s door, holding an ice cream in each hand, no I must’ve held both in one hand or else I couldn’t have knocked? Or maybe I did knock while also holding the ice cream? It’s irrelevant. The point is all I heard was my cousin screaming through the door: NO! go away!! so there I stood. Maybe a sad sight I was with the two uneaten ice creams melting in my hands outside of the white door.

My cousin and I have talked about this period of our lives and she does regret these particular events a lot, children may fight and all of that is water under the bridge.

But

But what of my sister

Why didn’t my sister step up for me then?

And why hasn’t it occurred to me until now that she could’ve done something or said something?

Anything?

This memory came to me with a new light: I may have been writing this before but now a subsequent thought has come to put it all like I said in a new light.

I may or may not have told about the relative who would come for Christmas and who can be summarised neatly with this anecdote: that she farted loudly on the stainless steel bowl with cheese puffs; I remember the sound as a ringing bell type of engine sound, maybe from a moped, but that sound is likely amplified in my memory by the impression such a pointless act of malevolence made on me then.

In her teens, she had raven black hair and a chipped tooth and moreover: nails like claws! She had this very powerful influence over my sister and she would tell her what to do and think basically, and this time I spoke up on my sister’s behalf because I didn’t like the way she was treated.

This prompted a strong reaction from my relative, her eyes turning black and I think I briefly saw a forked tongue through the chipped tooth. She rended me on my neck: her nails digging bleeding red lines of blood running down, staining my clothes but I didn’t move an inch. I didn’t flinch.

Why didn’t my sister step up for me then?

And why hasn’t it occurred to me until now that she could’ve done something or said something?

Anything?