The happy place

another week cycle is nearing its end. It’s too cold for crocs outside, where the half moon stands pale and alone on a dark blue sky. The white ground is covered by hard-packed snow. Slippery like a sprung trap.

Because of my fitness class, where I arrived last minute to grab the last step board — there weren’t any spots left, except at the very front where you see the instructor only from the side; ”it doesn’t matter”, I said, ”I’m so good at this” — I got a mild headache. There wasn’t any time to fill my bottle.

And I have done some laundry

Some things I am thinking about is that my brain and my feelings have been running out of sync for a long time. Either I realise that I should be angry, instead I have a guilty conscience. Other times I feel strong reactions in my gut long before my brain understands why.

It’s exactly like in Neon Genesis Evangelion: an Eva pilot might face smilar synchronisation problems when running the Eva Unit! Sometimes the pilot is even rejected.

It’s exactly like this right now.

But that’s just how it is.

I’ll try to feel a bit sorry for myself now.

I think I have too much going for me to succeed.

I’m the luckiest man I know!

We’re watching the road. It’s not a feel-good movie. Outside big flakes of snow fall slowly in loose heaps, but we’re inside.

It’s warm!

We’ve invited the neighbours for some 🇮🇹 Italian food. I made the pizza dough last night. They’ll be here in about an hour.

I will start baking soon. With Eros Ramazzotti on the boom blaster.

Maybe I’ll have a glass of wine, or a beer.

And the two dogs play happily in the snow !!

And the RGB lights from the computer illuminate the room where we will do the taxes tomorrow.

And it feels so strange. I’m sorry for how wrong… for how weird it’s become— that. It’s like some t

Anyway

Isn’t life so incredibly rich?

Well, hello there! It’s Friday and I hear the sound of flames in the fireplace as I lie now on the yellow sofa with the dogs resting by my side.

And I have my health. Some people equate taking care of themselves with going frequently to the gym and drinking ridiculous amounts of water. That is a scam, I think, because self care is to be found in this french bakery where they have croissants.

In my youth, I — a handsome young man with a friendly demeanour, having a cigarette behind my ear (unlit) — was working as a terminal worker sorting mail or driving the forklift. I’d unload trailers or train wagons and there were these glass shelters where we would smoke cigarettes and drink vending-machine coffee while waiting for these various vehicles to arrive.

There one easter I talked to this greek guy in his forties, built like a tank. He said through his thick mustasch that instead of candy, we should’ve gotten fruit or even sandwiches, but not candy.

Some time later, at the gym, he busted his back, and I never saw him again!

There’s this pub just a stone throw away where my wife and I go sometimes for a Guinness, or like yesterday, two.

It’s the new version of myself: a bakery bread eating city man with clipped toe nails who does yoga. A type of artist with a wide stance and a lazy eye.

I love 🇫🇷 France!

I feel this metamorphosis where I am becoming the butterfly version of myself.

Have I become my father?

I’ve been out getting some sunshine on me, but not much.

The solar flare of the Tuesday was obscured by heavy snow laden clouds.

I’ve feeling similar to the aforementioned weather: a headache, some allergic itch deep inside the nose, nearer to the brain than to the nostril. At nights I’ve been woken up by this itch, or weird bizarre unsettling dreams which I immediately forget upon waking, but which still fill me with a vague unease.

And I’ve been feeling conflicted, but where is my anger? — It too is covered by a big, gray cloud.

If only this metaphorical cloud of mine could release its rain somehow.

But I’ve done yoga. Fortunately I had my toe nails clipped. This was a stroke of luck. Nay, a good omen! Because it had slipped my mind that you do this barefoot. I will give yoga one hundred tries before I decide whether to continue.

If I could find inner peace, it would be welcome.

Maybe the case is, is that I need less peace and more war, like the warrior pose, the something warrior.

It’s like this grey cloud is inside of my brain, you know? That’s where the itch comes from.

That must be the case.

Finally: the little black dog woke me up each morning by excitedly biting my nose. He’s such a great friend.

It’s the humours which have been unbalanced! Too much black bile, I’m sure of it!

Or nay maybe too little?

ok a few words about the concert.

My friend and I went there with our daughters.

The only people who weren’t excited about the show were the medics, their reflex vests marking them plainly in the wild sea of mostly black clothed objectively cool-looking people.

Their concern was of the ever growing mosh pit.

And of the singer, cheering them on, daring them to even crazier stunts, ”but don’t sue us”, he said.

Anyway as it gradually grew wilder, we navigated from mid centre to a calmer area where we sat down on the shaking floor and listened from there. Because we were either too young or too old to go bananas in there.

Arguably.

One thing I missed is this: I saw a man wearing a beanie just like mine but black. With an anchor on it and everything.

I felt he could’ve been my brother, had I not stored mine in the wardrobe.

At the concert, I bought an extra beer for my friend, couldn’t find him, so ended up having to drink both.

There is a lesson to be learned from this.

Hello metal heads!!

Problems: it’s ok to let go of them for a while, to go on an adventurous journey. They’ll be there when I get back, that’s for certain.

Of course I’m open to aroma therapy, ethereal oils or whatever, it’s just I have no sense of smell most days.

That’s too bad, may I feel sorry for myself for having had no sense of smell, for example? — I think not.

I think not.

But why? Realistically, I ought to be able to complain about stuff, even if I’m not the elephant man!

It SUCKS to have no smell!

There.

That feels good to get out of my system! I wonder what I’ll complain about next?

Thing is I’ve been having this small devil on my shoulder, advising me.

I’ll start listening to this devil more, because I believe it’s in my own self interest.

See you in hell, then!

Thing is that it isn’t even a devil, but rather some awesome force to be reckoned with, beyond good or evil.

But if i listen to this voice more, people will like me less!

Good riddance!

hello again it’s me!

You know me! I am growing as a person right now, of course it hurts

But right now I am growing. Around the waist, and in my mind!

Did you know during fitness class I spotted my thighs again; they are muscular!

Not like in my prime: in my prime I had to buy larger trousers just for the legs

Because they were ridiculously strong

For some reason, I took great pleasure in having muscular thighs. It’s not exactly sexy, but I didn’t wear them to please others — they were just for me.

Functional, to be sure! I could roundhouse kick with mighty force.

Tomorrow I have a street dance class, let’s go!

I love dancing, it’s one of the many manifestations of Art: Dance !! and music !!

I believe it will connect us to a greater being!

I feel that I enter this trance

Where my mind will soar like previously described

I feel I am a swan, or even something floating in space — a comet with a blazing tail?

Sometimes I catch myself in the mirrors of the gym. I see my broad smile, and my muscular thighs.

Am I good at dancing? — that’s beside the point

The point is I love dancing!!

That’s the only thing which counts when it comes to Art!!!!

I really wanted to write about pineapple and pineapples.

For my thirtieth birthday, we took a cruise ship. I was wearing my yellow polo shirt and drank Piña Colada — my favourite drink — through a straw.

With me were some of my favourite people,

my family.

Some of them,

they hurt me.

I am not yet able to tell the tale plainly.

I don’t understand enough.

It’s not the type of thing that has a clear timeline. Rather, it’s exactly like they were the pineapple in my fruit salad and I was (in this analogy) allergic.

It might have developed suddenly or over time, as these things do. At some point, I kept eating — the same way I always had. It left me with (metaphorical) blisters on my tongue, without me knowing why they were there.

Some time during the following years, I concluded that my tongue was supposed to be swollen. Like that was just the way of things.

Until I stopped thinking there was anything wrong with it to begin with. Even as it kept growing, were someone to ask what was up with my tongue, I wouldn’t have even understood the question.

Finally, the pineapple was too much — the allergy so intense that it almost suffocated me. I stood there in front of the mirror, having reached some final threshold, and realised:

• It’s not supposed to hurt like this to speak.

• Breathing shouldn’t be this hard.

• Most people don’t have tongues this swollen, with blisters all over them.

When it dawned on me that it was all from the pineapple — which I love so much — something broke inside of me.

It hurts.

Even though I know there are other fruits you could put in there instead, like oranges — small representations of the sun — it’s never going to be the same.

And physalis.

I am not sure whether I will ever be able to eat pineapple again. Realistically, I could probably eat it once a year. But is it worth it?

(It’s not)