The happy place

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

A Fine memory: I was having UNIX class, and one classmate who was older than me, a taxi driver, he looked me dead in the eye, handed me a sheet of paper and asked me to write down my IP number.

He accused me for some reason for trying to hack his server, he’d seen an IP number from my area in his logs,

I said ”no” I won’t give him my IP address, suggested he setup port knocking or or fail2ban or something, to which he responded, and I quote: “I will fuck you in front of the class”

I said OK

And then he quit after that, I think he got expelled.

I don’t know what made him so aggressive, I’d never talked to the guy before that…

Another classmate used to lose his front tooth, it’d just fall out of his mouth when speaking. He would then pick it up off the ground and put it in his pocket.

I think he didn’t want us to see him putting it straight back into his mouth

Of the ground

Anyway he got a new set of front teeth from the dentist’s, eventually. (I remember them as being bigger than they probably actually were.)

I wonder what all those people are up to these days

tonight the moon was elsewhere, as were the stars

But I saw there were gray clouds on the deep blue sky

And I felt that it had rained.

And I’m drunk now, even though I’ve drank Lidl iced tea, and have eaten two (small) Pan Pizzas, I feel the Sunday deep in my bones, and I feel the alcohol in the system surrounding these strong but old bones.

But not in a bad way.

I saw some live music earlier this evening. That’s where I had all those beers.

I felt when sitting (because this was a sitting concert, maybe due to the average (old) age of the audience (does that include me — I’m not sure)?) , when I sat there, beer in my hand, and heard some familiar songs performed — songs I’ve not heard in twenty years or more — I felt a deep sense of contentment, watching the show with one eye shut (never mind why , it doesn’t matter)…

In fact, it reminded me of this winter when I sat with a beer in the rain looking into the fire

I was having a deep sadness then, but the fire seemed to melt it, at least for a moment I saw only those flames and felt the warmth on my face even though the rain was chilly

There was something hypnotising

That sensation, a serenity maybe

That’s what I felt today

I felt like laughing

I just wanted to sit there with the music, not thinking anything in particular

Just caught in the moment

And now again I’m home

Again it’s Sunday

OK let’s go

There was this beautiful sky overhead last night

The full-moon stood low in the sky, big, really big, and there was a tint of red giving it the resemblance of a blood orange

It shone so strong that I could barely see the stars on the sky which was blue and gray

And the wind farm in the horizon looked black, but there are red lights shining off them for some reason

Today is my sister’s birthday. I used to lend her my favourite books, but I never got them back.

I don’t think about her that much any more

And when I do, I feel nothing.

I forgot yesterday to write that I saw the moon on the sky, big, and that it looked like a honeydew melon.

A full-moon of course.