The happy place

This here is the space into which I put some of the thoughts which have been gathering inside my head. Mostly mundane stuff as I am not that original


Something got stuck halfway in the dog’s little throat causing a wheeze like sound coming from her last night. She does that sometimes when she gets a bone; chews off and swallows a too big chunk which wedges itself in there somewhere. Once when she was a puppy she got a bone shaped like one of those sticks the Italians put in their ice creams “gelato”, size of a big straw or something. You know it’s a type of roll used to spruce up ice creams and make it more festive. She was so small and eager that she swallowed the whole thing whole like some sword swallower; we had to turn her upside down to pull it out like 30% of her body length or something. An amazing feat and to this day she ain’t getting bones of that shape no more.


Somehow she always manages to digest it somehow. That which gets stuck. Now she is normal and happy again, that cute little one.

Speaking of puppies, I really liked Skinny Puppy when I was young, I liked the Last Rights album which was very good from start to finish and which I listened to a lot when playing heroes of might and magic 3. Tomorrow I shall find out if I like it still and see if maybe by listening I can evoke memories from that time which was a time when my life was getting good after a long period of a feeling of gray. It wasn’t you know black, but rather a state of mind characterised by apathy where just carrying on was all I could muster. It felt as if I was in a period of transcendence right then, where I started to feel happy about myself. Playing heroes 3 and listening to Skinny Puppy and meeting new people who were kind and had this inner beauty to them which radiated a type of warmth which I was basking in.

Now I too am aglow like a sun, hoping to return the favour in a way by shining my light on others.

Hello hello🤘

I’m enjoying my vacation: I’m digging up earth, putting it into the wheelbarrow, which I then push into the chicken coup area which is on a hill in which I use the soil from the wheelbarrow, and big rocks I find here and there, to build terraces on, like the Aztecs.

It’s funny how happy I get when I find rocks shaped a certain way, of a certain size etc, because those I can build with.

I enjoy digging and will probably be done with the foundation (I’m digging a foundation for a type of greenhouse I’ve described previously) tomorrow. I have a fear that I’ll be done with the digging and thereby will have run out of earth for the terraces, but I’m looking forward to filling the hole with gravel.

I am a man of many hobbies: digging and shovelling.

The hens also enjoy my hobby because the turned soil exposes worms and they really like that. Now they all come running as soon as they see me walk there with the spade.

Ok thanks for reading I really appreciate!!

Content after a day of hard toil and fishing. Eating pizza, drinking some beer and unwinding.

I’m reading the Ring it’s a good one.

Now entering vacation.

Will dig up some earth to create a powerful foundation and furthermore use the surplus soil to create terraces of some type for the birds’ shelter. It’s there that they can hang out without fear of foxes on account of a dug down fence and of birds of prey due to the colourful ribbons overhead.

The foundation is for some sort of combined greenhouse and winter garden for the various birds we’ve got, and it’s a means to separate Carrot the turkey from the others but letting them be together still due to clever partitioning.

Michel Jackson so eagerly clawed (for worms) the dug up soil that one of her gloves came off so she had a foot bath before we put a new one on. Presumably from a single date activity with the new rooster Gunnar.

Gunnar who looks like a glam rocker with a rather broad face and a white coat of feathers on his head which looks frizzled over some dark olive coat here and there, and a big dark olive plume on his ass, all a little bit ragged, is quite old. He looks like if birds drank and smoke; he’d do it, and he sounds a little bit broken, like one of those spent squeaky toys after having been punctured by a fang. Or like Meat Loaf past his prime.

Unfortunately for everybody he acts like a real asshole to some of the hens which he pecks and chases off in a most ungentlemanly fashion whenever he spots or if they just come too near, only to call instead for his sweethearts, like Michel Jackson, which he takes on single dates. Blatant favouritism.

Chickaleta he has nothing on though; she has been brooding for like a month and whenever she takes a brief stroll to stretch her legs or bath in the soil it’s always done feistily with a high pitched shriek and one thousand percent attitude so that even the turkeys who are five times her size clear the way for her. She's finally hatched an egg; all of her hard toil finally paid off! It’s a turkey egg but they aren’t that picky and it’s the beautiful turkey Tom Carrot who is the (biological) father. It’s now nesting under one of her wings most of the time, looking like a little angel.

Carrot the turkey, meanwhile, is miserable in his solitude and eagerly anticipates every visit and so we spend hours in mums pergola with him laying there looking content while we read books or drink coffee or whatever. Today my child had micro waved food for dinner and she left it half eaten: first the cat ate the leftover mashed potatoes, Carrot carefully observing without venturing too near, then when she was full he ate what she left, and finally the dog licked the plastic box clean: so a dinner for four.

Anyhow Carrot hasn’t met his child yet and he is in for a surprise when he sees the mother. Hopefully it’ll be soon as now I ain’t got no work taking time off my digging and we already bought a quarter tonne of cement, and we already got gravel. So yeah it’s practically built.

I’m in a terrible deadlock right now: can’t get up to create food because I’ve got low levels of energy because I need to eat.

I am feeling that melancholy which comes with the hunger: Feeling quite sorry for myself. It’s a nice somewhat forbidden emotion which is some secret luxury.

I can’t think of what to eat; everything seems to need cooking and I ain’t motivated enough.

Maybe if I go into the kitchen and take one beer, the energy will come with some inspiration and I’ll cook something taste worthy.

Better hurry while I’ve got energy enough for that.

It seems to be my only hope.

Well hello hello

Today my wife and I went to lunch together to eat some bolognese.

We’d put our turkey tom Carrot in solitary confinement temporarily due to him accidentally spraining the hens legs during lovemaking so that they all walk with a slight limp.

He is a very kind and gentle individual with sad eyes, very beautiful coat of feathers like brown metallic with some deep green tendencies over white brown sections and finally one layer near the tip of his wings which looks like stracciatella ice cream, you know the vanilla ice cream with dark chocolate crumbs or dust in it which the Italians are so famous for. Absolutely beautiful.

Gentle but big and clumsy so to let the hens recover we have him temporarily in one barn while we prepare a type of lodging for him so that he can be with his flock but anyhow all of this is beside the point.


So we were having lunch in mums pergola which isn’t a pergola but rather some type of sunroof with a hammock and a table and some chairs etc. there we sat for lunch to keep Carrot company and we brought our dog and our cat showed up too. One of them did.

We sat there like it was like a Disney movie with all of those animals keeping us company; the turkey gobbling in concert with the little dog’s high pitched barks whenever a car drove by while the cat was asleep on a couch which I didn’t write about but which is also inside the pergola.

We had a lovely time talking about death. Death doesn’t scare my wife but it’s I think my top one fear, maybe because I love life so much, maybe cause I cling to it and think of all the dangers out there and try to hold on to what I got. It’s the ephemeral nature of all things which is why I try to carpe diem; to sieze the day.

Today I was successful.

I’m very happy with my life even though I worry about everything.

Most of the stuff I’m worried about boils down to different worries of different ways of losing what I have.

I’m incredibly thankful.

Feeling like that tigress 🐅 I wrote about.

Feeling that life is akin to a big body of water I’m gracefully surfing it all the while fully aware of the sharks and the stingrays and the horrors down deep, wondering if I’ll be able to climb back up if I lose my footing and plummet down.

Wondering if I’m too focused on the horrors of the water, that I’ll be smitten by a lightning strike because I looked down, not up.

Wondering if you aren’t supposed to look forward when surfing.

I would never surf it does not appeal to me at all, but it’s a figure of speech.

Last night I dreamt we were some people who were going to move something or code something and it was colleges. Maybe we were in a boat or a hotel and/or maybe we were in Italy. It was a work trip.

We were all going out to do something with something and when we left I realised I had no shoes on, so I went back looking, but all of my shoes were gone. I dreamt I had brought three pairs.

I was looking everywhere and I thought I spotted thru the handle hole a pair of my crocs at the bottom of a big box (this did not make sense as handle holes are placed near top not bottom of boxes, just showcases how surreal dreams can be), but when I started digging they were not in there, so I started looking for shoes of my size but they were all one size too small and I picked out a pair of black sneakers with red detailing but they turned into those five finger shoes, you know the type which have individual toe compartments. Furthermore they turned to socks.

Anyhow by that time the others were all back at the hotel or boat room and I knew someone had hidden all my shoes.

Not precisely a nightmare but creepy as why would anyone do that?

The night before that dream, or if it was two nights, doesn’t matter, I dreamt that I was making pancakes but one of the eggs had a chicken carcass in it and what is remarkable about that dream is that it seemed to follow very closely me falling asleep as it woke me up and the audiobook was still on.

It’s raining angrily outside, thunder rumbling in the sky covered with great white benevolent-looking clouds. Such a contrast.

Like the clouds in my little pony all mostly white looking like cotton candy. Equestrian.

And it’s pleasantly warm too!

Very awe inspiring and contrast rich weather with bright flashes of lightning, like God is taking pictures of something or something.

We are sitting in mums pergola which isn’t a pergola but rather some sort of wooden frame with a roof on. Sheltered from the rain you hear it smattering on the roof while being very very dry, sipping cava.

One hen has got bandaged feet, she looks like Michel Jackson or some type of 80’s bad boy (the type with jeans jackets). There is some sort of claw infection we been treating her daily because she is such a sweetheart.

I’m such a failure as a poultry farmer that I’ll end up a vegetarian.

I don’t look like Michel Jackson, I’m more sun tanned looking like fried pork.


Setbacks can sometimes help build character and foster humility and therefore they could be diamonds created by the crushing weight of failure.

Or they could indeed crush someone into dust.

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