The happy place

Earlier we ate coal buns by the grill outside, I sat in the folding chair with a beer in my hand and the scarf — a neon coloured keffiyeh, which I bought off the thrift store, it pulled me to it, as I was hunting for a suit for a forthcoming wedding, me now having literally outgrown the ones I have — on me watching the embers and the flames, feeling them warm my face, and I thought that this is the life I want to live

A dog on each side, sitting in this comfortable folding chair, in the bright early summer late evening

It is here I want to sit

It doesn’t sound like much, maybe, but it took me all my life to get there.

I had a nightmare last night

I dreamt there where these ”regular”board games, a type of which people who aren’t interested in board games play

And I got a phone call from what looked like Nick Cave but with the bald man wig, resembling that inventor’s from back to the future: a bald head with white hair on the sides, but as a wig.

And his eyes were lunatic’s eyes.

Yellow eyes

And he wasn’t up to no good

I don’t remember what he said to me over the phone but something deeply unsettling

I remembered the details more vividly as it woke me, but I feared it would bridge the gap between dream and waking world were I to write it down then,

And I was too scared to go back to sleep because I didn’t want the dream to continue

So I went to the bathroom

And finally I slept. If I dreamt, I have no memories of that.

As I can barely recollect this frightful dream just described,

Strange

Today even though it was supposed to rain, the sky was blue, and there was a sun up there instead, shining on my face, which felt beautiful today

In a wabi sabi type of way.

I was digging with my spade, moving soil from one place to another, digging and feeling the sweat drenched Sonata Arctica T-Shirt — with a wolf print, howling at the moon — clinging to my powerful belly as I roll with my wheelbarrow and a light spring in my mighty legs.

It’s their spirit animal, the wolf (which some people also claim is the case for Chakotay (from star trek: voyager) (whereas mine is a donkey like I wrote before)).

It’s peaceful to work the earth like that, making things grow, listening to Scooter in the headphones.

🎧

And the air feels fresh, and I’m sure the soil has a murky smell even though I don’t know

In the moss-green kitchen, there’s a fire burning in the fireplace. I am sitting by the bardisk with a beer and my book, pretending that I’m at some hotel bar,

let’s write it like this, because for reasons unknown, my caches have been corrupted, and I’ve invalidated them, meaning old truths must be reexamined with the latest patch set I’ve painstakingly installed (this is a metaphor) and then rebooted,

An example:

When we were young, my sister said the neighbour boy once threw a machete at his younger siblings

That he killed kittens

That he broke her arm on purpose with his mountainbike

That he was wild

And it never occurred to me to question that even though I knew him and spent most days playing with him and we were true friends

I never saw him do anything remotely like that, the strangest thing was that he took tea water straight from the tap

And didn’t like to wear socks

it’s true I never wanted to anger him, but that means little; I never wanted to anger anyone…

Why did I trust her so blindly?

It’s not just something she said as a child letting her wild imagination loose,

She was adult she maintained all these things

And I as an adult took her words for truth even though I’d never seen anything like that

Why hasn’t it occurred for me until now to question this?

Isn’t that strange?

Isn’t it?

The train was late, I’ve now been riding for twelve hours or something, but I like it

I’d rather be abed now, but I know there is a cold grave waiting for me in less than one hundred years, whereas now the blood is pumping through my veins still.

and I’m riding the train

Of course I’d rather be burnt to ashes so I don’t wake up like in kill bill — I’m claustrophobic after all.

No I’m alive and spending my valuable time improving my relations with the family of choice

my daughter found black bean in her purse, we’ll plant it and see if it too can grow, but that’s for after the train ride.

Now I’m just goofing around and being silly and it’s true what I learned from my book about poultry farming, that to see these turkeys play and goof around means they are feeling good and are healthy

And this is true for humans too

Hello I just need to get the thoughts of the day into writing

First there was a middle aged lady stood outside by the train station with a megaphone like some sort of street preacher, imploring everyone to take heed of our mortalities, that we would all be dead in merely one hundred years, and that we should worry about this fact

Which sounded counter intuitive to me, because that is the one thing I do not worry about. I figure the good thing about being dead is that all of the sorrows die too, but I think of course she is alluding to eternal damnation

Of course she is.

I don’t think that’s gonna happen, but time will tell which one of us got it right.

Then I started listening on repeat to ”My Sorrowful Wife” by ”Nick Cave”, a great text about love and the betrayal of inadequacy, which is to not be enough to heal the ones we love, maybe even the opposite, through blindness and foolishness

I listen to it with a lump in my chest

…

To not be able to take the pain away

To just stand by not being able to heal their hurt, not to be able to mend

Even though that’s really what you want most of all

That’s sad

Today I saw a little girl carefully balancing through the train car with a small box of strawberry jam clutched to her heart, a frown of deep concentration was on her little face as she passed me by

Walking the same path some time later: a big bald man, a miniature whiskey bottle in his giant fist, clutched also

And I got word of a dead relative through SMS from my mum (who I don’t talk to much no more, we’ve run out of things to say to each other)

And I quit my old job, as the new one is lined up finally

And lastly, I saw a man with a big butt crack walking by, wearing black jeans jacket and black jeans. There was something sad I couldn’t put my finger on, his eyes maybe, about his kind face. (I saw this as I went for a stroll to stretch my weary legs …)

An eventful journey indeed

Willkommen, bjarnevie, welcome!

I’m listening again to H.I.M “His Infernal Majesty” (🤘), “Wings of a butterfly “. I always circle back to this track; it has this deeply disturbing text about ripping out the wings of a butterfly, which I think is a very potent symbol of corruption and dekadence which for some reason resonates with my darkness which is churning deep within.

Because a human being isn’t either good or bad, they could be, for example, a great guy but who likes HIM nonetheless.

Here are some interesting things I saw today

Through a window to a Lebanese restaurant, a punk rocker, or maybe a jester or a hippie, with a bowl cut sat picking their nose

Then later, under a deep blue sky with stars, I saw a rat by the library. A magpie saw it too and made it scurry into hiding underneath a black car.

A single slipper on the pad walk

The empty bag of a finished bag-in-box

And a handsome man with newly cut hair

The last one was myself I saw in the elevator mirror

When I was really young, we used to have a dog, it was beautiful, looked just like a Doberman.

Could’ve been a Doberman for all I know, with her bronze and black fur.

I remember sitting on the floor, and I bit her in the back, by her spine, just the fur, but still …

And she yelped miserably

And later they had to put her down, did someone shoot her?

I don’t know why, but I thought probably it was my fault, biting her like that, making her mentally I’ll

I thought

I don’t know why I did it, I wanted to feel it, I think.

I think I wanted to feel what it’d feel like

To bite this dog, to feel the fur

Her skin, you know?

This dark secret I carried with me for years,

The shame

But I was so young, I wasn’t even in school

I might’ve been four or maybe five years old

But I can picture still, the feeling of having her fur between my teeth

And her yelping

And her brown eyes, sad

And it makes me sad.

I hugged her afterwards, but I couldn’t unbite her