The happy place

Now entering vacation.

Will dig up some earth to create a powerful foundation and furthermore use the surplus soil to create terraces of some type for the birds’ shelter. It’s there that they can hang out without fear of foxes on account of a dug down fence and of birds of prey due to the colourful ribbons overhead.

The foundation is for some sort of combined greenhouse and winter garden for the various birds we’ve got, and it’s a means to separate Carrot the turkey from the others but letting them be together still due to clever partitioning.

Michel Jackson so eagerly clawed (for worms) the dug up soil that one of her gloves came off so she had a foot bath before we put a new one on. Presumably from a single date activity with the new rooster Gunnar.

Gunnar who looks like a glam rocker with a rather broad face and a white coat of feathers on his head which looks frizzled over some dark olive coat here and there, and a big dark olive plume on his ass, all a little bit ragged, is quite old. He looks like if birds drank and smoke; he’d do it, and he sounds a little bit broken, like one of those spent squeaky toys after having been punctured by a fang. Or like Meat Loaf past his prime.

Unfortunately for everybody he acts like a real asshole to some of the hens which he pecks and chases off in a most ungentlemanly fashion whenever he spots or if they just come too near, only to call instead for his sweethearts, like Michel Jackson, which he takes on single dates. Blatant favouritism.

Chickaleta he has nothing on though; she has been brooding for like a month and whenever she takes a brief stroll to stretch her legs or bath in the soil it’s always done feistily with a high pitched shriek and one thousand percent attitude so that even the turkeys who are five times her size clear the way for her. She's finally hatched an egg; all of her hard toil finally paid off! It’s a turkey egg but they aren’t that picky and it’s the beautiful turkey Tom Carrot who is the (biological) father. It’s now nesting under one of her wings most of the time, looking like a little angel.

Carrot the turkey, meanwhile, is miserable in his solitude and eagerly anticipates every visit and so we spend hours in mums pergola with him laying there looking content while we read books or drink coffee or whatever. Today my child had micro waved food for dinner and she left it half eaten: first the cat ate the leftover mashed potatoes, Carrot carefully observing without venturing too near, then when she was full he ate what she left, and finally the dog licked the plastic box clean: so a dinner for four.

Anyhow Carrot hasn’t met his child yet and he is in for a surprise when he sees the mother. Hopefully it’ll be soon as now I ain’t got no work taking time off my digging and we already bought a quarter tonne of cement, and we already got gravel. So yeah it’s practically built.

I’m in a terrible deadlock right now: can’t get up to create food because I’ve got low levels of energy because I need to eat.

I am feeling that melancholy which comes with the hunger: Feeling quite sorry for myself. It’s a nice somewhat forbidden emotion which is some secret luxury.

I can’t think of what to eat; everything seems to need cooking and I ain’t motivated enough.

Maybe if I go into the kitchen and take one beer, the energy will come with some inspiration and I’ll cook something taste worthy.

Better hurry while I’ve got energy enough for that.

It seems to be my only hope.

Well hello hello

Today my wife and I went to lunch together to eat some bolognese.

We’d put our turkey tom Carrot in solitary confinement temporarily due to him accidentally spraining the hens legs during lovemaking so that they all walk with a slight limp.

He is a very kind and gentle individual with sad eyes, very beautiful coat of feathers like brown metallic with some deep green tendencies over white brown sections and finally one layer near the tip of his wings which looks like stracciatella ice cream, you know the vanilla ice cream with dark chocolate crumbs or dust in it which the Italians are so famous for. Absolutely beautiful.

Gentle but big and clumsy so to let the hens recover we have him temporarily in one barn while we prepare a type of lodging for him so that he can be with his flock but anyhow all of this is beside the point.

Anyway

So we were having lunch in mums pergola which isn’t a pergola but rather some type of sunroof with a hammock and a table and some chairs etc. there we sat for lunch to keep Carrot company and we brought our dog and our cat showed up too. One of them did.

We sat there like it was like a Disney movie with all of those animals keeping us company; the turkey gobbling in concert with the little dog’s high pitched barks whenever a car drove by while the cat was asleep on a couch which I didn’t write about but which is also inside the pergola.

We had a lovely time talking about death. Death doesn’t scare my wife but it’s I think my top one fear, maybe because I love life so much, maybe cause I cling to it and think of all the dangers out there and try to hold on to what I got. It’s the ephemeral nature of all things which is why I try to carpe diem; to sieze the day.

Today I was successful.

I’m very happy with my life even though I worry about everything.

Most of the stuff I’m worried about boils down to different worries of different ways of losing what I have.

I’m incredibly thankful.

Feeling like that tigress 🐅 I wrote about.

Feeling that life is akin to a big body of water I’m gracefully surfing it all the while fully aware of the sharks and the stingrays and the horrors down deep, wondering if I’ll be able to climb back up if I lose my footing and plummet down.

Wondering if I’m too focused on the horrors of the water, that I’ll be smitten by a lightning strike because I looked down, not up.

Wondering if you aren’t supposed to look forward when surfing.

I would never surf it does not appeal to me at all, but it’s a figure of speech.

Last night I dreamt we were some people who were going to move something or code something and it was colleges. Maybe we were in a boat or a hotel and/or maybe we were in Italy. It was a work trip.

We were all going out to do something with something and when we left I realised I had no shoes on, so I went back looking, but all of my shoes were gone. I dreamt I had brought three pairs.

I was looking everywhere and I thought I spotted thru the handle hole a pair of my crocs at the bottom of a big box (this did not make sense as handle holes are placed near top not bottom of boxes, just showcases how surreal dreams can be), but when I started digging they were not in there, so I started looking for shoes of my size but they were all one size too small and I picked out a pair of black sneakers with red detailing but they turned into those five finger shoes, you know the type which have individual toe compartments. Furthermore they turned to socks.

Anyhow by that time the others were all back at the hotel or boat room and I knew someone had hidden all my shoes.

Not precisely a nightmare but creepy as why would anyone do that?

The night before that dream, or if it was two nights, doesn’t matter, I dreamt that I was making pancakes but one of the eggs had a chicken carcass in it and what is remarkable about that dream is that it seemed to follow very closely me falling asleep as it woke me up and the audiobook was still on.

It’s raining angrily outside, thunder rumbling in the sky covered with great white benevolent-looking clouds. Such a contrast.

Like the clouds in my little pony all mostly white looking like cotton candy. Equestrian.

And it’s pleasantly warm too!

Very awe inspiring and contrast rich weather with bright flashes of lightning, like God is taking pictures of something or something.

We are sitting in mums pergola which isn’t a pergola but rather some sort of wooden frame with a roof on. Sheltered from the rain you hear it smattering on the roof while being very very dry, sipping cava.

One hen has got bandaged feet, she looks like Michel Jackson or some type of 80’s bad boy (the type with jeans jackets). There is some sort of claw infection we been treating her daily because she is such a sweetheart.

I’m such a failure as a poultry farmer that I’ll end up a vegetarian.

I don’t look like Michel Jackson, I’m more sun tanned looking like fried pork.

I’ve

Setbacks can sometimes help build character and foster humility and therefore they could be diamonds created by the crushing weight of failure.

Or they could indeed crush someone into dust.

Got a strong allergic reaction after being out running yesterday: first comes the headache, then the snot torrent, the sneezes and finally the cough.

Think I’m getting allergic to fitness.

Went to bed, knocked out, after falling asleep in front of John Wick chapter four.

Woke with back pains in the middle of the night (not sure if it was in the middle exactly, not like I checked the clock.), some misalignment in the spine but it went away as did the allergies.

I’ve got a quite formidable constitution which compensates for me sometimes feeling like an alpha release. Like with the allergies; they don’t make no sense: they are not like a missing feature like lactose intolerance, no clearly they are some sort of bugs as they react strongly to nothing.

Much like an overzealous application security department…

I have got curly hair now, because the day before yesterday I think my wife braided my hair and now I’ve let it all out and I look very beautiful in a slightly funny way.

It’s only temporary.

(Everything is.)

The guests have left, after creating many strong memories in my head for which I am glad.

We for example went fishing, using my new fishing rod I was close to catching the biggest pike I ever saw, like some feral beast of legend: pikes are some sort of nightmare fuel with their mean teeth and big mouths and this one looked like it could’ve swallowed my hand, that’s how big and mean it looked, but last minute it broke free and I almost felt relieved because it would’ve rattled the boat to the point of capsizing it, had I managed to hoist it up there.

Another example is we had coffee in the egg shaped sofas.

I’ve got few friends I can be just silent with because generally speaking I cannot differentiate awkward silence from regular silence and thus I keep talking to fill the void. The exception being in the mornings before I have fully booted, at which point I do not always even realise if someone tries talking to me.

but my BFF can be silent for a long time, without anything amiss. Presumably he’s looking at the game cameras in his mobile phone, spotting different kinds of deers which all look the same to me. That’s a nice thing I think.

So there we sat all silent sipping coffee in the egg shaped sofas, surrounded by turkeys just being themselves, having a good time.

When turkeys copulate, it’s a very graceless thing to behold: the tom climbs onto the twice as small hen and stands there for two to three minutes, just trying to find his balance, moving his feet, swaying to and fro with a look of deep concentration on his face, until finally he finds it and then two seconds later they are done and the hen rises and shakes her feathers and that’s that.

Anyhow did I write that I was gonna start making dream catchers? I feel compelled to do that, me being so spiritual and artistic and whatnot.

I feel compelled.

I’ve already started collecting a big assortment of feathers, now I just need to figure out what types of rings to use, but I am confident it will come to me in due time.

Think even the rugged feathers will do, especially the weather worn feathers, they have this wabi sabi type of beauty to them, like a scarred face they sometimes can be more beautiful than a regular one.

Ok thanks for reading!!

I’m awake now I’m the sun sitting in the egg shaped couch thing opposite the hammock with my turkeys and my chickens and having a mighty fine time.

It’s midsummer and the other humans are inside, sleeping I believe; having arrived either very late or else very early.

I’m pretty glad they are sleeping, cause then I can have this small moment for myself with the turkeys and chickens and my thoughts for company in the pleasant morning sun.

I’m listening to Current 93 getting flashbacks from when I was young and beautiful in a more elvish way than the rugged slightly lumberjack way I am beautiful now. The Bloodbells Chime. This produces memories for some reason of Magic: the gathering and some people I used to like and probably still do, but who are no longer friends as our ways parted somewhere sometime twenty years ago.

I’m wearing my new socks my wife ordered for me (I forgot to mention them yesterday) and it’s the only white piece of clothing I’ve got, being as I am, as we are in my family, dressed in black.

The music and the way my thoughts are leading me to some dark frame of mind is my signal to cancel the couch sitting and go put some coffee on.