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
Before, a fog rising toward the gray sky smudged everything, like a half-hearted watercolor painting. Now, it’s dark blue—nay, black.
And it’s not even night, although maybe it is.
J in me a fog too is rising, but it is not gray; it is red. And it puts a soft, warm glow on there.
That’s too good but it’s thanks to the 🍷 wind, nay wine
A welcome sensation indeed
I had hoped to find some exciting treasures in the cat litter box — maybe a fossilised dinosaur bone or a golden figurine — as I was busily performing sort of an archeological dig in there — but found nothing of value.
Is there a lesson to be learned from this excavation?
A lesson, maybe, in the futility of hoping for what cannot be?
A hope, maybe, to find meaning where there is none?
But from where, then, did this golden figurine of wisdom come?
I excavated it, just now, from the cat litter box.
I’m now wearing the second thrift store gift my aunt gave me.
It’s a hoodie, but red.
Wearing red is rich symbolism,
But it’s not very practical as I once wore a red hoodie with a zipper, but people would confuse me with a grocery store worker, and ask where stuff was.
Which I happily obliged, it’s funny how I learn to navigate the grocery store like a savant, but am unable to navigate through the traffic in my red car.
It’s my wife’s car.
A red car symbolises social democracy.
Generally speaking.
I also know that red makes the blemishes of the face stand out, as does the contrast colour: green. I read this in a harlequin book, which I consider a good authoritative source for such knowledge. Turquoise is optimal (I think it was) if you want to accentuate your tan.
However, that is of little consequence to me now.
I have a strong confidence that my inner beauty will shine through no matter what colour my sweater has.
My soul, you see, today is also clad in red.
Picture me, in this red social democracy car, wearing this red thrift store hoodie — accentuating my red blemishes — and the red star glowing from within.
Yes the running put me on the right track, I even crossed the long and tall bridge and thought about only two or three different ways to die — falling plummeting down into the black ocean below.
The bridge itself collapses just as I am in the middle.
Some gangsters hoist me up and push me over the guardrails, which are tall.
A car swerves and knocks me down and over I fly.
but as usual I made it to the other side.
It gets easier.
And I saw the moon just now! There was a clearing in the clouded sky, just where the moon was.
And I could feel it shining down on me.
I think it a good omen.
there are now some Christmas lights hanging from our windows, charms against the oppressive darkness soon to come.
Or wards maybe,
Anyway ok so there’s that start, a dark tone but a hint of hope, represented by the lights in each window.
Then what? There’s no getting away from the fact that it’s Sunday again.
They are heavy I think.
What can I do to light some Christmas lights inside of me? I will get a gym card, go running — pumping Ava Max until my iPhone warns me, be with my family including the small dogs.
That will help.
And I’ve got my book to read, a word to hide in for a while.
And the coffee.
But but yes, yes yes I will start with the jog, now that the sun is still shining,
And then I’ll see if that helps.
It did
I am in the city.
Just got a package from my aunt — the kind one — and therein I found birthday gifts for myself.
One was with a black panther printed on a blue T-Shirt. I am wearing it now. It’s a little bit tight but that’s OK; some people think wearing tight clothes is sexy.
It’s a very thoughtful gift. I like cool motives like feral beasts or of the occult. It’s the darkness I’ve got churning deep inside.
I think denying the darkness is dangerous. It’s false to pretend and the biggest, most dangerous lies are the ones we tell ourselves just to get by.
On the other hand: deep introspection, looking inwards at the darkness is blinding, like looking straight at the sun. There’s danger.
It’s the yin-yang. That’s the solution.
It’s a challenge to face the sky when you need to walk the narrow path, however: if you stumble, there’s an abyss waiting, or a hole deep enough to drown in.
Hello good evening good afternoon! Good morning!
Who needs a hug? A frog? A friend? A dog?
Today we lit a candle to commemorate my late grandmother, by the grove where her ashes are scattered.
It’s a beautiful place by the lake. In the darkness, the water reflected all the candles lit on the graves and in the grove — they looked like stars, and the church stood white against the black sky.
And I thought: this is what dignity looks like.
On our way back, we bought candy so that the children could celebrate halloween. It’s a fine thing to be able to put a smile on their cute little faces. It’s important to remember just how little it takes to make someone smile.
It’s important to be kind. Life is hard enough already for everyone involved and thus we can light small metaphorical candles to warm those nearby.
Literal candles to commemorate the dead, metaphorical ones for the living.
It was supposed to have been heathen in the last text, not Heather. But the screen is too small when i write in the phone. It’s an UX issue.
Speaking of which, I had something related on my mind, which I forgot.
I dreamt I was in Germany, looking for my colleagues who were all having beer in this what can best be described as: A building much like a big colosseum, with all of the stuff you find both on an airport and a ferry cruise ship (the intersection so neither airplanes nor life boats, but restaurants, pubs, a tax free shop, etc.)
I couldn’t find the place, it was supposed to be a fairly large cozily lit place with wooden long benches and people drinking beers through big pitchers with handles, (like the IOS beer 🍺 emoji, but bigger).
Up and down I went through the escalators but I saw only souvenir shops, tax free shops with perfumes and stuff like this, until I went to the very bottom centre where a brightly lit round pool was, which was empty.
The vision of the pool was strong: clear blue water with ripples, bluer than average and there was chlorine in there. The pool itself made of glossy white ceramic tiles of the typical bath house variety, rectangular.
There I concluded that I must’ve visited the wrong date, I’d gotten it all wrong.
Even though the place ought to have been there even on the wrong date. This fact was irrelevant in the dream.
How I reacted to this was apparently to wake up to find myself in bed and then I forgot all about it until now, for some reason this memory seems to have overwritten the one I had which was related to the UX experience.
That’s interesting.
Today the grounds were wet from the past weeks’ ceaseless rain. There were brown puddles on the fields.
The air felt cold, and yet the sun shone down from heaven, a clear ray through the opening between two big clouds.
The land in general is orange and sometimes yellow. Most trees still cling to their leaves however some are completely naked, carpeting the wet ground with theirs. I still see the green grass spotted here and there through the orange, and I marvel at how beautiful it all is.
The darkness comes suddenly however, the days feel truncated. Like it’s some bad joke that it’s completely black out there even before dinner.
That is ominous. And where is the moon? And the stars? There is this mist rising day and night. They could be up there, but concealed.
I have a feeling that the gods are nearer during autumn and spring. I see them in the mist, and I can clearly picture how some of the trees concentrate their life forces in their roots underground. Like they die and resurrect every year.
I think during winter that the gods of death reign supreme although that is a simplification as some creatures, like penguins, flourish during winter, but still for most it’s lethal.
But winter is beautiful too.
Hello are you wondering why i’ve not written so much?
That’s not been true, I’ve been writing some stuff down for my memoirs. It’s a psychological drama, let’s call it that. A creeping horror.
Actually it reminds me of that quote, you know, by Clive Barker: “Welcome to the worst nightmare of all: Reality“ or something. I was never much of a Pinhead fan. Never. And it’s an exaggeration but it’s not like there’s no truth to it.
I will put it, the memoirs, with my will, so when I will die my child might decide what to do with it, it will be a big hit, I know this. But it might be better buried with me.
It’s one of the most relatable books I have ever read, hehe
And I have grown up, I do no longer wish to be buried in a sarcophagus with a gold coin on my tongue.
I do no longer wish that “The Great Below” by N I И to be played, even though it’s a good song that one. It’s too inappropriate for such a somber occasion.
I am now reaching for the light I want butterflies and I want glitter maybe, something which symbolises hope! Ducks! And fighting spirit, I would like to muddle through no matter what, to persevere.
But OK: that too has a hollow ring to it on a funeral.
Maybe a hope of the afterlife, then? Or a reminder that life goes on for the rest.
Some hearts I want hearts there somehow, there are so many which I love so much I love them dearly even though I am a man and expressing this is something of a stigma, but I have always walked to the beat of my own drum, head held high even though there’s a hunch I know I will one day become a hunchback.
It’s the burden of the cross I bear. We all have our crosses to bear.
I do not even want to be buried in a coffin, it’s my worst fear! I’d rather be scattered to the wind!
Or better yet: made into bio fuel
Like a modern dinosaur.