The happy place

Blinded as I was by the love that I felt for her at the time, I failed to see the significance of the wart on my sister’s face.

at daycare when I was seven or thereabouts, I took a toy airplane with thin styrofoam wings and I broke them into pieces just because I wanted to feel them snap and crumble in my hands.

The childminder lady who was the mother of the child who owned that airplane didn’t like that. She got angry.

I don’t like being yelled at.

It couldn’t explain myself.

Once when I was at school at art school and I was a vegetarian, a weird girl who I used to be friends with who lived with her weirdly old father far away in the middle of nowhere, she spat on my food. It was pancakes. For class she once drew a big picture of an angel and a devil coupling “doggy style” (erotic), she wore dr. Martens and we were friends until we weren’t and she spat on my pancakes.

I shall try to remember more about this and for example what lead up to the incident with the spittle pancakes.

The older I get, the less I understand of the world around me. Every day I become more uncertain of what to believe.

Gonna read some books and go for a jog even though right now it’s not very appealing, wet and cold as it is outside, the sun hidden behind a blanket of gray clouds.

But that’s usually what it takes to jolt me out of my dark musings.

I’ve set everything everywhere to German because I’m gonna learn that for sure now and it’s fun.

Why learn a new language? Because why not? Why not try to learn stuff? Should I just sit by the TV all day waiting for death, watching a bunch of morons trying to get funding for their idiotic start up ideas? Peddling shit to poor people? Like some 20s something with pistachio coloured pullovers and trust fund dads could sell subscriptions to life goals for a monthly fee? The gall ! And they want funding for that? Get out of here!

I will now spread my (bat) wings and go for a run because I’m getting worked up.

About the food yesterday. I just realised that I had a dream which could possibly be related: I dreamt that the bathroom scale said my weight was 140kg, then full of dread I went again to double check, this time it was 160kg.

The third time it said 260kg

And then I woke up.

Won’t check now.

Was out for a family dinner yesterday. Everything was either very deep fried and/or very sweet and thus tasted of diabetes and death.

It was the nauseating taste of danger.

Speaking of which, I’m nearly vegetarian. I’ve gone full circle: I am back to when I was a young handsome vegetarian with piercings, except I’m no longer young and I have no piercings.

But I am handsome in a wabi sabi way which is how I prefer it. My nose is bent slightly sideways.

Speaking of which, I’m going to the doctor’s tomorrow to figure out why I can breathe through only one nostril.

I think I know why.

The gray old hen is lovely.

Most days, she goes to roost already before six, keeping her head tucked in under her beautiful little wing up on one of the special shelves. When I go in to the coup to tend to them, (you know; check the water and food, count them usw,), for an instant she groggily wakes up and opens her eyes to slits, we make eye contact and when I move my head from side to side, she does too, mirroring me. We do this a couple of times back and forth and feel the special connection that we have and our mutual understanding.

My mind has been barren lately. I’ve not been able to write anything here.

To be fair, I could never excel the previous two posts, and to be fair, I haven’t done many much interesting things lately? Have I? I had a dream which started funnily in a very nice way which unfortunately I can’t remember, what I do remember is I got transformed into a Nazi, whereupon all of the coziness evaporated to leave a big uneasiness which stuck with me through to the waking world: eerie. What does that mean? ChatGPT suggests that it might symbolise a conflict between the good and the evil in one’s life and that sounds plausible (Or A fear of losing control, which is less plausible because I’ve not got much of that to lose).

To be fair, I have also been tired lately: not only is it the wolf moon which have depleted my resources, in fact it was four times the regular size the other night, and it’s been dark.

Super dark.

It’s my favourite time of the year. Fall.

Ok thanks that’s all.

There’s one potent thought from Sunday that I want to write down for my own reference:

Last Sunday was foggy cold and there was a mild rain outside. No sun could be spotted through the white and gray clouds. The ground was turned into mud and I had the pains of an aging body and a congestion in the sinuses caused by a wine allergy (!) and furthermore I had a tinge of the Sunday blues and was inside spiralling slightly downwards towards the abyss, planted haplessly on the sofa, getting radicalised by doomscrolling through the federated feed from Lemmy (bad news about Elon musk and Donald trump and the capitalists and the Palestinians and the climate and some rich dudes etc).

,

Even though I didn’t want to, I put on the sausage skin jogging outfit and went out in the shitty weather for a run. It hurt somewhat and it felt terrible, but after some twenty minutes or less I had disappeared into myself (it’s a trick I have): I entered into a type of trance like state of mind where the mind wanders and there’s music in the ears (a mix) and I enjoy the scenery and the badness is either melting and/or is breathed out while the mind wanders freely.

That’s the thing to remember, because I really didn’t want to run. Like it was the last thing I wanted to do, but I did it and one hour later I was flying like a bird.

Soaring.

It’s a Wolf Moon out there! The dogs are all crazy: our dog, neighbours’ dogs! All dogs! Our dog is barking and is irratic. The neighbours are too and their dogs are running amok, looking for something, not quite sure what.

It’s the cold and the aforementioned Wolf Moon and also the Halloween season: the spirits are closer. That’s what the dogs feel without necessarily knowing that that’s what it is; they smell the death or the faint smell of the dead like a vague compost musk, sense the rustle of leaves as they (the dead) pass through or are near the dogs. They (the dead) are spectral and thus cannot materialise (fully).

The humans mostly do not notice all of what is going on with the ghosts, but I am observant moreover am sensitive to the spiritual realm as I think I’ve got some attunement to the moon; it’s the high tide rising and I think it’s a feminine element, the moon, and that explains a lot.

A lot.

Furthermore I do enjoy (the mundane pleasures of life) watching for the fifth or sixth time the Gilmore Girls. It’s ’an autumn activity and even though Lane, her mum “Miss Kim” and her (Lane’s) band “Hep Alien” have a substantial chunk of the time on this show, the series is a true masterpiece even so.

the TV has a channel with only non stop Taylor Swift videos, isn’t that strange? Taylor Swift is also strange; there are many artists who I think are better in the same genre (Ava Max, Demi Lovato, that one with bunny ears etc), but she’s way bigger than all of them. I think it’s like the least common denominator: an artist who only the outliers dislike and most people tolerate? It’s the sweet spot.

I like that trouble song. it’s catchy.

Trouble trouble. I think it’s about falling for a bad boy but I’ve not listened to the lyrics even though I have heard that she’s a top notch lyricist, like I heard some fan say on TV (on another channel) that she ought to have the Nobel prize, that’s how good she is.

Personally I like a little bit more misanthropic texts or texts with a theme or concept albums which unravel an interesting story.

It’s the tinge of darkness which makes me such an interesting person: a type of friendly guy who does want to do good, but with a dark side aswell.

Interesting.

Speaking of which

I’m having a little bit fun at work now, I’d forgotten that feeling. It’s better than looking at some logs waiting for the day to end haha

Haha

trouble trouble