The happy place

Too bad about the rain. The ice cold shower or downpour which has completely spoilt my original plans and instead I have opted this weekend to lay on the sofa, warming myself on the warmth radiating from the various fireplaces in this beautiful somewhat ragged old house. and isn’t that something?

The nights are getting very dark, stars barely visible, and no moon. The windows completely black like someone’s shut them off and thus shrinking my world to this warm and reasonably lit house, the house with wine. Red wine radiating warmth just like the fireplaces I just described, except on the inside. Like I was a beautiful somewhat ragged old house myself.

This ominous autumn weather of shivers and darkness of course leads the thoughts to the Occult. How could it not?

Vampires for example, love red wine (except it’s blood in the goblets. It’s the goths who drink the wine instead).

Vampires are also sensitive to light and therefore opt to wear sunglasses especially since they sometimes get red or yellow eyes (unnatural). My sunglasses I take off on Tuesday when my new ones arive.

I’m running out of taco spice.

On the

hello!! Please enjoy reading this text where I capture a moment of significance in my life:

When I finally got the glasses in my twenties or something, I stopped to look at the lush canopy of an alder (or similar, I am no subject matter expert) planted in a grate or a pit in the sidewalk and I remember seeing all of the green leaves, each individually distinguishable and I was awestruck that reality had such great graphics.

I remember it as being a clear blue-skied day and it was early summer and it was mild. And in my heart I was warm and mild. I was listening to the “blue skied an’ clear” Slowdive tribute album, which was introduced to me by my sister’s boyfriend — he is one of the greatest guys I’ve ever met — on my mp3 players in my headphones. They had cords back then.

I had had an ambivalent attitude towards glasses, I remember once in high school I had just gotten off the scales the little nurses’ office, and they had just said 95kg, which she asked if it troubled me because it was considerable over weight for my length but I lied and said no. Sometimes a lie can spare a lot of trouble. And the nurse having then investigated my eye vision said I would need glasses to which I said nothing, but in my mind I thought no: I had enough on my plate already to even consider such a preposterous idea. I didn’t after all wear any glasses.

But the shame I did feel and the posture which made me crooked had with time shaped me into a humble and mild Swan like graceful tall and handsome young man, so now standing there, gazing heavenward with the music in my ears, seeing each individual leaf, feeling the gentle warmth of the sun on my beautiful (I think so) face, thinking to myself what a fine life this is after all.

Today when we arrived we did see a drug fiend!! picking up garbage, dropping things, picking them up again, disappear out of view, only to return moments later unsteadily on a bike laden with treasure and then finally wobble out of view more permanently but maybe not forever.

♾️

The sky is dark blue, not black. Not a single star can be seen on there. It isn’t cold, but it isn’t warm either.

I was elated today, because everything I feel, I feel it strongly. Many songs I have been listening to lately have felt to me as the

Best songs with the best lyrics ever written, leaving me deeply moved even though I have heard them hundreds or thousands of times before.

There is an incredible beauty to this world, the glittering of snow and the glittering of stars, and the glittering of glitter all are precious in their own right and what a pleasure to live in a world so beautiful!

but it takes so little to punctuate this balloon of happiness I sometimes seem to soar only to crash and then what? I try so hard to blow these balloons up, and I have so many, but I am getting old and my lungs aren’t what they once were.

It’s because I have such a wide open heart !! It is the double edged sword (the yin yang) for I love to feel things because that is to live.

But to go into this dangerous world unarmed is foolish because there are drug fiends, dangerous psychopaths lurking in street corners, and peddlers of lies! Or people who cannot admit that they are at fault, and worst of all traitors!

Speaking of balloons about to burst, my friend he thinks that the AI bubble is about to burst soon, and that’s because of unhinged investors and risk capitalists.

Beware!!

It’s not like you might picture me laying here on the sofa next to two lovemaking dogs feeling sorry for myself, that’s not the case at all. No, no! I am conducting some soul searching, turning bad memories into (some might say) beautiful anecdotes. It’s more akin to a brave exploration of the dark places, similar to the Journey to the Center of the earth, shining a thin ray of light from the metaphorical submarine to look if there’s gold glittering down there.

so following up on the previous post on a similar theme, as my brain drew a new connection, this memory follows too:

My cousin who I love dearly moved in to live with us briefly during a period of my life when I was young and miserable. She frequently had a need for something girl time related and therefore I was often left out, because even though I had some pretty feminine mannerisms, I was a boy.

Once I came knocking on my sister’s door, holding an ice cream in each hand, no I must’ve held both in one hand or else I couldn’t have knocked? Or maybe I did knock while also holding the ice cream? It’s irrelevant. The point is all I heard was my cousin screaming through the door: NO! go away!! so there I stood. Maybe a sad sight I was with the two uneaten ice creams melting in my hands outside of the white door.

My cousin and I have talked about this period of our lives and she does regret these particular events a lot, children may fight and all of that is water under the bridge.

But

But what of my sister

Why didn’t my sister step up for me then?

And why hasn’t it occurred to me until now that she could’ve done something or said something?

Anything?

This memory came to me with a new light: I may have been writing this before but now a subsequent thought has come to put it all like I said in a new light.

I may or may not have told about the relative who would come for Christmas and who can be summarised neatly with this anecdote: that she farted loudly on the stainless steel bowl with cheese puffs; I remember the sound as a ringing bell type of engine sound, maybe from a moped, but that sound is likely amplified in my memory by the impression such a pointless act of malevolence made on me then.

In her teens, she had raven black hair and a chipped tooth and moreover: nails like claws! She had this very powerful influence over my sister and she would tell her what to do and think basically, and this time I spoke up on my sister’s behalf because I didn’t like the way she was treated.

This prompted a strong reaction from my relative, her eyes turning black and I think I briefly saw a forked tongue through the chipped tooth. She rended me on my neck: her nails digging bleeding red lines of blood running down, staining my clothes but I didn’t move an inch. I didn’t flinch.

Why didn’t my sister step up for me then?

And why hasn’t it occurred to me until now that she could’ve done something or said something?

Anything?

Hello friends”

The sky is gray today, the color of smoke rising from the chimneys of a paper mill. And it’s raining — ice cold tears from the sky falling relentlessly and gusts of wind wreaking havoc: toppling the trash cans, sweeping away the refuse and casually scattering it here and there like some teenagers sometimes do to impress one another with their rebellious lifestyles and unconcern for their futures. You might picture them on one of those electric rental bikes, the ones you rent with some mobile app, and an e-cigarette in the corners of their mouths, not able yet to picture themselves as old, like older people are of a different species for how remote they seem to be, living as they (the yourhs) do in the moment, as they too scatter candy paper and cigarette boxes left and right because all they think of is the strong love they feel and maybe how much wrong there is with this world we have built upon nature.

This weather signals the transition from summer to autumn, if the dark chilly nights wasn’t enough of a sign. As if the giant moon shining on the blackness of the night sky wasn’t

And yet I see the sun trying to shine through the clouds like a glimmer of hope or that glimpse of gold

Soon the leaves will be orange

The burst of inspiration which made this posts rather strong and spectacular start unfortunately didn’t last for long enough to finalise this post, (and now I have to make dinner) but even an incomplete thing can be beautiful

Only God is perfect after all. What is so charming about us humans is our struggle for perfection and our inability to get there

I feel invigorated after a long late evening walk yesterday, powered by the awesome sight of the mighty blood moon rising slowly from the sea, sending a red reflection on its surface, almost like a bloody sword on there.

I needed that because I have been feeling deflated too and it’s a shame that I cannot energise my colleagues in the office. I take great pleasure in spreading joy, but I have been needing my strength and all my joy for myself. Too bad for them as I am normally a pretty great guy, I try to be anyway, but lately I have been more akin to an echo or a copy of myself made by a printer low on toner.

To avoid having to tell the tale of how I fell off the SUP into the water and there lost my glasses and therefore now wear the sunglasses instead yet another time, on the coffee break I opted instead to take them off.

Because someone is likely to ask and then I would have to answer and I didn’t want any attention today. And it’s weird… I don’t mind if they think I am weird, because it’s true, I am, maybe. Maybe it’s weird to lose the glasses paddling to buy eggs from the neighbours, maybe it’s not. I hadn’t the energy for either. I have times when I would rather fly under the radar, happily hearing the conversations going on without necessarily taking part. Just hearing the sounds of other people and so forth.

If I wanted to avoid appearing weird however, I failed miserably because not wearing any glasses made me squint. Because I lack the unified vision I also tend to close one eye (the left one) to avoid accidentally appearing to be staring at someone’s crotch or something when all I in fact see are abstract shapes.

Therefore I gave the overall impression of sleeping. Which would have also been weird.

Maybe.

Yesterday when I was going to the neighbours a bit upstream on the SUP to buy some eggs, I lost my balance, fell off the board and lost my glasses which are now at the black bottom of the pond somewhere.

I dove to find them but it was muddled and dark like from a nightmare down there, with some specks of turquoise dust reflected maybe from the sky near the surface in a gradient which quickly became black down to the slimy bottom where there are crayfish and crab sticks and hidden horrors lurking.

maybe a treasure then, for future archaeologists.

They are in the same body of water as my friend’s wedding ring (which I wrote about earlier), sacrifices made to the lady of the lake.

I’m wearing my sunglasses now instead as I had no spare (they are my spare pair of glasses) and I see nothing without my glasses. Also I’ve also got the lazy eye so without my glasses I see double nothing.

I am wearing sunglasses at work. It gives me this badass look with the sunglasses on the Teams meetings.

I think about all of the treasures down there, all of the things who maybe are lost forever and I think about the slight panic I felt diving to retrieve the glasses in those depths — when I couldn’t see or breathe — and then about how warm I felt suddenly breaking surface, the sun shining from a cloudless blue sky, seeing it reflected on the surface like a thousand shining coins. Seeing the blurry outlines of the greenery surrounding it, it amazed me that this too was of the same world.

I forgot what I was dreaming about in waking up, but I remember it as having been a good one, but unfortunately it faded.

I got a glimpse however when visiting the shopping paradise we have here, what some intellectuals call a temple of Mammon, a soulless pit where people are reduced to different consumer identities and now are looking not only to buy a grocery or a lamp, but rather a dream and a lifestyle and a taste of the good life but it’s unfortunately a very shallow and cynical happiness that comes with a hefty price tag.

Anyway so as I was sneezing I recollected briefly a vivid image from the dream: blood gushing out from my nose and all orifices, blood covering my hand as I held it up to cover my mouth as I stumbled into a brightly lit room, resembling that of a bigger type of shop or a mall.

That was it. Of course what I found to be interesting is how on earth I could’ve remembered this as having been a good, pleasant dream.

Half-laying in this egg shaped outdoor furniture lounge chair, shaded from the gentle warmth of the bright shining sun by the USA fleece snuggle blanket, enjoying a lukewarm cup of coffee, listening to what in my opinion is the best Nick Cave album: “no more shall we part” on the boom blaster, and having this great new book beside me (I will write more about it later) I have a great fondness for books: the one I am reading to get to venture into that world and furthermore: the books I have bought but haven’t read yet which I will approach like a gentleman looking to meet a new friend, looking for things to like about it, looking to see if we can find a common ground.

I relish this gentle melancholy I have been feeling a lot lately, because it makes me creative, because it makes me appreciate what I have, because it makes me sentimental and vulnerable and helps me approach my friends with kind words because I do not know when is the last time we meet, I enjoy the sense of urgency which I have gotten to leave nothing unsaid and not waste any more time. I relish that when I feel joy again it will be that much sweeter, in the same way I appreciate even the smell of a fart because I only smell certain things once every other month or so.

I appreciate the amount of introspection and soul searching which have led me to this point where I now see myself as different than before, where in fact the things which used to interest me don’t interest me no more. Where the things I held dear now seems ugly to me. I would like to dedicate myself to the arts and I would like to appreciate all of the beautiful things while I still can.

Before it is too late

I have so much I want to do

Ok thanks for reading this post