The happy place

I usually start like this, with describing the weather,

Which when I woke up, I saw, I saw the brown leaves scattered on the ground, like so many frosted cornflakes

And with the rising sun, vapours rise too in a wet fog

And there are birds, the rowan trees’ are full of birds , the berries are red, the leaves red like rust

And I’ve been tired, lethargic almost

But my father came, and we had beers outside by the fire, and look, I like the fire, to gaze into the fire

I don’t want to think inside of my own head today, so I won’t

That’s my prerogative.

Dear diary!

I found a plastic food container in the freezer. I’d been thinking to eat it today, the day when I’m alone. But, when I could finally pry open the lid to see what was inside, it was just something brown, like a puddle of frozen mud.

Isn’t that fascinating?

The little town next to where I live, it’s teeming with racists. Finally there was a sinkhole there, which I have good reason to believe, in reality is a not fully opened hole leading straight down to hell.

I think the whole town might sink into this hole one fine day, and I haven’t made up my mind yet, whether it is a good thing, or a bad.

I choose indifference this time.

Speaking of which,

Have you thought about the fact that neutrality almost always benefits the strong party in a conflict, the oppressor.

It’s dark and cloudy outside, and a chill is in the air! I think I might’ve seen the moon too, and if so, it shone strongly.

The night belongs to the frogs! They are everywhere, of all sizes and frog shapes,

But during daylight, I see them only when it rains.

Where are they the rest of the time?

How many frogs do I kill with the lawnmower?

It’s a slaughter, maybe

And even though that might be,

And even though I love frogs

Still i mow

Such is the power of

Imagination

On the train again, I really enjoy it, a blue train travelling in the misty autumn coloured lands like in a dream almost, but this is reality!

And I even took the red pill!

And I’m o on my way to see the friend of the office, to put in a good unit of work, maybe have a fancy lunch with pie? And coffee!

And now I must read my book, because even though it’s not a muscle, but mostly fat, the brain needs exercise too!

I’m feeding my fire again!

In the darkness I see the stars up there. How could they make me feel insignificant, when they’re all so very small?

The moon has been shining bright, full and with a silvery glow without warmth these past three days!

And tonight it was only 98% full but bright as ever nonetheless!

And it made me think of this Song of Songs: Ohia/Magnolia electric co. “Almost was good enough”

It’s one of my favourites, even the lyrics really does strike a chord

First:

Did you really believe, come on, did you really believe That everyone makes it out? Almost no one makes it out Almost no one makes it out

And then, finally

For once, almost was good enough Almost was good enough Almost was good enough

It’s good,

I’m listening to Iggy Azaleah, sitting in the bar of my own kitchen. A fire is burning in the fireplace.

I’m back again to my old self!

It took only two or three years?

She’s pretty bad, but I know now that a Loubouiton is a shoe.

It’s never a bad thing to gain knowledge. The point is, you never know which curveballs life throws your way; the more you know, the higher the probability of sucess

Just gather it all in the head

And lo and behold, it’s just like a junk room up there

With Loubouiton’s, C#, weather stations and Pokémon.

Chillin, listening to :Wumpscut: again, thorns: Tonight you sleep in hell 🤘🤘

Speaking of which, one of the greatest songs of all time is Slaid Cleaves ”Breakfast in hell”

It’s about these lumberjacks risking their lives every day, dying for example trying to fix a logjam

They all knew in a second or two  He'd be crushed or frozen or drowned

that’s hard work

That’s hard work

That’s hard work, and for what?

It’s not about the Bugatti — that’s just hot smoke!

It’s not

It’s cause it needs doing.

Talk about work bitch, tell that to the sweatshop workers, chained to the sewing machines.

Or to that guy who fell off his truck, and bloated from internal bleeding still finished his route

He just wished to eat at the buffet with his wife!!

How disconnected from reality, I think, do you have to be to write such a song: work bitch by Britney Spears?

Still love her though, i can hold more than one thought in my head ✌️

There was sunlight today, gods be thanked!

And look, I did one unit of work, listening to music. Teleconferencing.

Drinking coffee

And somewhere around me, life is going on chaotically.

And even as I try my best, chaos has got a strong hold here, it’s a constant struggle to bring order

And I have got my head full of chaos too

And there’s just the endless struggle to bring order everywhere,

a task which is doomed to fail.

but it could be, that which looks like chaos, on closer inspection is in perfect order, like

The ants

#poetry

I was sat on the ground, harvesting potatoes. That sunflower really did tower above me as I did, and higher above still, the sun shone pleasantly.

I have been working, like Spider-Man I have been jumping between kubernetes clusters and what else is there?

I have been trying to write, but it’s like I have to penetrate this bubble of nausea each time, did that ever happen to you?

It’s like a dumpster in the head, feels like sifting through garbage, something smells unpleasantly, and it’s all me! All of these things up there!

But to enter into the sun, and focus a little bit on these potatoes, like a treasure hunt, taking pleasure in the sun, shining indiscriminately.

Or sitting inside with that coffee cup, pretending to be spider man like that, when everyone knows that’s not true,

But what else can I do?

I really get it, why people say not to dwell on the past,

But I can’t do that, I’m no coward

For God’s sake, I’m pretending to be spider man!