The happy place

A few days back, as I was pouring taco sauce in the high grass fringe, I saw a roe deer up close; he hadn’t seen me and was just as surprised in seeing me as I was in seeing him.

He looked really majestic as he hopped and gracefully ran the other way!

I probably looked just as majestic to him as he did to me.

Wearing crocks this fine day!

today was warm, the elderly suffering, ofttimes there’s no AC, and the fans used instead to cool them are blowing all of the bacteria mucus and viruses straight into their faces. I saw that on the news.

But some other people lay at the beach, sweating like pork chops, then dipping themselves every once in a while in the clear water which is pure enough for all sorts of special fishes.

And on the same planet, even in the same little town, I am too.

Making rhubarb pie. Something about rhubarb is unhealthy I think for the kidneys, but for me — having a tinge of darkness churning deep within — it’s part of the charm.

And I dug the soil and with my bare hands I harvested the potatoes with their tender, demon red skins.

Life, I don’t even pretend to understand what’s going on

Fascinating and frightening like a yin yang

I’m been acting like a flower lately, in the absence of a moon, I’ve gotten energised by the bright shining sun.

I’ve not felt bad, but I did eat halloumi burger with cheddar on it, and I can recommend.

I can recommend

Not only am I a sunflower, bright and yellow. But also in a washed out, wrung out rag, having this distinct old rag sliminess aspect.

I’m a winner in the lottery of life, so why is it so hard even so? And am I even allowed to complain?

I think that it’s meant to be like this

She’s 5 am and I’ve not slept.

It’s like that sometimes.

I am listening to atmospheric black metal on the yellow sofa with a blanket on my chest, feeling pretty good

This house is old, hundred of years old; there’s cobwebs by the ceiling in the rooms, in the attic, by the windows of our front door even.

The walls and floors are riddled with spiders in various sizes.

They are welcome here, like minuscule sentries.

I know they keep the insects at bay with their clever tricks

I stepped in dog shit twice when I was going to bed, and twice I then lost my phone, because I got interrupted by the dog shit which was on two different spots on the carpet, unfortunately.

That is maybe not very interesting, but I will leave it

And also the spiders too, that’s pretty interesting though, spiders…

And neither can every post be super interesting,

Let this be either the yin to the yang of vice versa

Grounding is the term, you need contrast

Can’t see shadows without the light

And so forth

🤌🤌🤌

In the library of my mind, I browse through heaps of disorded yellow scrolls, some of which seem to be made of papyrus.

I am an inexpert — but patient — librarian trying to bring some order into this dust riddled chaos, even though I am still barred from entering the “forbidden section”

Maybe one fine day…

Anyway.

These pages which crumble too, unless handed with care.

Disappear In a cloud of dust.

There are spells in there of considerable power, tricks I’ve learned throughout the years!

And so to bring order to this chaos, I will now look at one which I have seen, there is a type of warm smile I couldn’t place, but I found the memory to which it belongs, so I’ll write it down now, and sort it later.

---

It was a dark late summer night, I had been drinking champagne straight from the bottle. Had been holding a beer in the other one, and a cigarette between the fingers even though I no longer smoked.

There was a company event, colleagues.

At one point a few weeks earlier, during lunch, a girl who I didn’t know, but who knew some of the others around the table, was talking about having been bullied in school.

There was an anger in her voice, I do not remember exactly what was said, but I reacted to the strong vulgar language.

Then after a while the conversation moved on to other topics, like animal cruelty or how a high carb diet was beneficial and healthy.

Meanwhile, I said nothing.

Now during the night, on this event, I saw her again standing alone by the grill from which smoke rose to the dark sky

I went to her and said

— I was bullied in school too

She looked at me. It took a while for her to place me.

— ”I don’t think it was that bad, though…,” I continued to fill the silence in which I heard only the cracking from the fire, ”…but, I don’t remember anything”.

I think it was the first time I told anyone about the hole in my memory.

— ”are you angry at them?”, she asked

— ”yes”, I said, but I wasn’t really.

— ”I am too, I picture myself hurting them! Murdering then!”

— ”yeah, me too”, but that wasn’t true either.

— ”we’ve gotten our vindications now”, she said

Which was to say that we were both reasonably successful and well paid, having made it still somehow,

— ”that’s true”, I said.

There was a silence,

I saw her turning then to face me, and there, on her face — which had a warm orange glow from the embers — was a smile of compassion, which made me want to cry.

I smiled back, not sure what to say next, so I went to get vegan hot dogs for her, but when I came back, she was gone.

I was listening today, on my last day of work, to the Irreligious album by Moonspell. It’s my favourite one, not because the best track is on there, but rather because every single track (except Raven Claws) is 100/100

And that’s my firm conviction

My cousin, a great philosopher, he played me this album a long time ago and it blew my mind then.

It was during my most eccentric period of life, I had a green cape and green nail polish which miscoloured my nails, a green jacket, hair which was also green, cut in a Romulan fashion (from star trek of course), and green hoodie.

I don’t know why I was so strangely clothed back then, I think it may have been a natural progression of the style I adopted in high school, a rejection from a norm which I felt had rejected me. I wasn’t aware of anyone dressing like this.

Only by becoming very strange, I found a sense of self deep within.

Or something, I felt like something.

This was not to get attention, but rather a way to not disappear. Or maybe a way to seize control of my life. Or maybe a ward against ”normal” people.

So we lent this CD or a copy to the girl I was in love with at the time, she who spat in my food. I remember lending it to her because her favourite track was Raven Claws.

But this is of course all in the past, just like the job I just finished.

And I just try to navigate this life as best I can.

The hot sun behind thick gray clouds — which occasionally rain down on the tall grass from which insects rise in swarms as I go near them — shines with a pleasant warmth.

I see that the lush green apple trees have grown since spring, and I think it’s because of this tropical weather.

The first tree we planted in this orchard, when we were full of dreams, previously thought dead due to having been chewed on by roe deers, now sends its lower branches heavenward, green with life. Only the top half of its crown is dead.

And I sit inside the air conditioned room, working using the topmost of four stacked laptops (It’s the last week, then I’ll be using the one below it), feeling pretty good.

Feeling, I imagine, like the first apple tree I just described.

My wife found a dead mouse behind the door. It looked like it’d moved into a sneaker in which it spent its final breath.

Then it was thrown in the container, the sneaker repurposed as a home now finally repurposed as a casket.

Meanwhile, I was outside in the blazing sun, carpeting slowly. Sweating thirstily.

There’s now blue tarp hanging on the facades, because of renovations, so therefore I get the sense that I’m in a simulation, and there’s nothing out there.

But I know that’s not true, because the mouse is buried in a sneaker in a container outside

And out there, I feel and see the sun.

Hello again, it’s me!

I’m on the train again. A slightly older one without AC, but which has wooden panelling and blue seats.

I’m hearing the wind through the window which is slightly opened.

I am happy with a bit of melancholy mingled into it, bittersweet.

I don’t want to poke into this state of mind right now. Let’s just say that it’s a sore and it itches, but let’s not pick this scab right now, it’ll just make things worse. I think.

Sometimes strong ruthless introspection is the key to progress.

Sometimes it’s best to leave it be.

And that’s that; don’t force conclusions; life is a marathon.

I’m not hungover today, but I didn’t sleep until four, hearing the rain smattering on the roof and I was right by the ceiling

Picturing I was in a tent,

Then thinking about all the blood pumping through my body.

Five litres of blood.

Thinking that I likely have gotten rosacea on my nose through DNA

Thinking that it would help with some cortisone

Thinking that it’ll solve itself once I get back into my regular fitness routine.

All things considered: having these random pointless thoughts and being uncomfortable in a cozy type of way.

I guess that reflects my inner state of mind right now too: The rain on the ceiling.

Yes.

And now I’m going home.