The happy place

Hello isn’t it beautiful at the lake when the sun has set? The water is black like really black and it feels dangerous. Like if you drop something overboard, it’s gone forever. This body of water which we were out at just now is murky even in broad daylight, due to the muddy lakebed, at night it’s black like that maximum black, you know? Doomsday black. And yet on the surface it glimmers even so. Like made of liquified black diamond.

It’s just so beautiful and serene, there were a few swans which were upset when coming too near, we saw them flying to seek another resting place. also some Canadian geese doing the same thing, but mostly it was just the gentle sound when the oars broke surface and the also gentle swearing when rowing too close to the what looked like an impossible long cow made of grass which was hard to distinguish from the seaweeds in the darkness.

My hands were slick from fish carvings, but I couldn’t smell anything, (I sometimes feel nothing)

I will not say what kind of fishy business we were up to in the cover of dark, but it wasn’t smuggling.

And so I will write this down as whenever something beautiful happens, it’s a formidable idea to write down, to save it for later in the virtual treasure chest, like a black diamond made out of memories .

There’s an ebb and a flow of things, I would say that life is a rollercoaster but I don’t think it is, like in a rollercoaster you just hang on for dear life waiting for it all to be over, but in reality you also have to join teams calls, fold laundry and pay the bills.

That’s a sad but strong start if I may say so.

Sad but strong but now it’s weekend!

I would feel that all the possibilities were open to me right now, the weekend has just begun, if I weren’t so damn tired. Like a mummy if they even feel the same way, lying for thousands of years in a sarcophagus until some grave robber breaks it open to just to take the golden coins? Or an archeologist which is possibly even worse because suddenly you are paraded around the museums in a plexi glass container on display for all the world to see! It feels exactly like that!

Do you understand that feeling?

I’m recovering from a cold which would kill some people, but for me it’s just some coughs, I’ll be back to normal in no time.

(I’ll never be normal.)

But anyway I enjoy the weather, and I’m feeling good. I will try to be like the sun.

It’s my idol: the sun! Melting ice and sending warm tendrils of light to the whole earth and even some other planets.

Even the moon!

Hey aren’t roundworms strange? I can’t tell the head from the tail; they don’t even have the structural integrity of over cooked pasta, but otherwise bear a striking resemblance. Elastic like thread seal tape or something?

Isn’t it strange that we live in a world where God would allow such creatures to exist? It’s such bizarre examples as this which make me fear that he’s taken his hands off our fates, if indeed it is true that he is benevolent and all powerful like some say.

Have you heard the all our Gods have abandoned us album, the nihilist track:

All our gods have abandoned us  This is the great esoteric depression  We sold our souls, but couldn't buy salvation

Unsettling

Or they are this reminder of how much of this world I do not understand. So humbling like I needed that; I don’t need further proof. All in all I know next to nothing and yet somehow I am reasonably successful. (Fact is I wouldn’t change my life even with the King’s (even if he wasn’t old)).

I see bad omens every day, if it isn’t dead birds or these apples I wrote about then they come in my dreams.

It’s a general feeling of unease inside like I was infected by metaphorical roundworms causing this sense of unease somewhere in the gut.

I can’t put my finger on.

Like when patting a cat, stroking its belly and then suddenly something inside the cat changes, a warning bell has gone off and she’d rip you to shreds or well at least the hand. At least she would bite it or maybe half heartedly attack it with her claws.

Have you ever logged into Nagios because you know that something is wrong, but all systems appear green?

It’s this sense of wrongness I try to describe.

I am a proper wordsmith.

Hello this might sound fantastical but it’s all true I swear it! It happened yesterday.

The weather shamans had foretold rain this whole weekend, yet there was none. Still I felt the chugging of the lawn mower’s engine struggling slightly with the wet grass, whose clippings had the appearance of stewed spinach.

It’s early autumn here, only the winter apples are still attached to their trees, but for one exception: The reason for writing this post: A powerful bad omen:

Picture this: A freshly mowed lawn, wet grass sending a pleasant smell (supposedly) to the nostrils, bees buzzing in almost every dandelion growing at the roadside, a blue sky; even though they said it’d rain, only a few gray clouds could be seen overhead. And a warmth so gentle that you could wear shorts without freezing if you also have a sweater on.

Then this lush tree, bright green with three red apples still clinging to the canopy (because it is a small one). Blood red. Not like the apple in Snow White, but brighter blood red like artery blood.

It’s hard not to think of the final days of the Roman empire when seeing the decadence which comes next, and having the thoughts drawn also to this famous novel by Edgar Allan Poe; The Masque of the Red Death. Or simply the final supper of these inmates who will soon be executed, maybe on the electric chair.

Because

As you now move closer, eager maybe to take a bite of one of the bright red apples, you see now that they have split open. They are overripe, and should’ve fallen to the ground by now, but for some reason haven’t. In the cracks, there are holes burrowed, and wasps. Tens of wasps in each apple, gorging their final few days away in drunken stupor.

I left them to it. After all considering the time they have left I can think of nothing better for them to do.

I see them for what they are however. How could the warning be more obvious: a trinity of makeshift apple igloos. Bright red. With wasps. Wasps are screaming warning in their own right with their black and yellow stripes, and having three houses like gingerbread houses from Hans and Gretel made out of apple filled with them at this time of the year when they are particularly aggressive are warnings so blatantly obvious that only a fool would ignore them.

Take heed!

This dream I write down and what is significant to me is the lack impression it made on me even though it carries what I believe to be a very bad Omen.

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I dreamt I was in France. In an apartment.

There was an older lady there with black hair. She was sitting on the floor of a newly renovated room without furniture. She wore colourful clothes; a dark blue dress and a white blouse with a flower pattern.

She had a hammer in her hand. While we were talking, she used it like a fly swatter to smash little tiny pigeon chicks, size of gnats.

When they died there was no blood they just disappeared.

She did it very casually like they were no more than flies to her, but with enough force that even in the dream I was concerned about the parquet floor (but not the pigeons even though I really like them (in the waking world)).

She even swatted one with the hammer against my forehead, but I didn’t even feel it. She didn’t even pause her speaking then.

I can’t remember a single word of what she was saying. I only remember her mouth moving, and a faint smile on her serious face.

It will likely rain they say.

This weekend is predicted to be one of ceaseless rain.

It’s not bad I think. I like the rain it’s cold.

I like seeing the street lights reflected on the flooded streets and I like feeling the rain on myself like a shower. Like having a shower while dressed.

I don’t understand or care much for umbrellas but I think that’s partially because I’m not wearing mascara. Mascara will run 🏃‍♀️ down the face and create dramatic effects like on a goth CD cover when it’s raining. Although beautiful it’s a very niche look which often is not appropriate.

I think it’s appropriate with rain and it’s appropriate to walk around getting wet in the cold rain, to let the water soak and cleanse body and soul. To feel something. Like the discomfort it causes feels good for the soul the same way training feels good for the body.

Sometimes it feels bad.

👋

The small dog appreciates the city life, however he has a fear of the dark which makes him ceaselessly bark in all directions, like his brain has flown off to somewhere and he’s left an alarm bell in his cute little head instead, because it’s like nothing can get through to him when he is in that mode.

I picture it like the printouts in the log of some system spewing exception messages until restarted and then it would just proceed as if nothing had just happened.

He must have a vivid imagination for all of the threats he sees out there in his mind’s eye.

He’s also mostly in a very good mood and he excitedly starts each new day by wagging his tail wildly while alternating between biting my nose, licking my face and barking. It’s hard to not let some of that positivity rub off.

He has this problem however that his shit (the poo) ofttimes gets stuck in his ass-fur, and there it will dangle like a rank banana until he’s taken a shower in the bathroom sink. This whole ordeal troubles him greatly.

Speaking of which

There is this super cute duck Pokémon Psyduck who has an inflatable swim ring around his waist which I have been catching a lot of!

But I have a strong intense (yes, it’s that bad) headache now and I’ve not been sleeping so much lately. But it will pass.

Everything passes unfortunately.

Today as I was stacking firewood in the barn, I saw a dead little bird covered in dust lying on the floor.

It must’ve fallen out of the nest up there on the roof beams, maybe by accident or possibly in a failed attempt to fly.

It weighed nothing as I gently lifted it up in my hands to take it outside.

I know too little about birds to say what kind of bird it was, and furthermore like I said it was covered in dust. I would say it was the flying kind of bird, but what then was it doing on the floor?

The wrongness of the whole situation: a bird on the ground, and always the sadness of a young life cut short, struck me as a powerful bad omen which sent shivers through my system as I unceremoniously but with a sense of urgency tossed the little tiny corpse into the bushes outside.

I then went back and promptly continued the wood stacking as if nothing had happened.

As if nothing had happened! That’s most unsettling of all.

I wanted to write something about the fog out there. It’s really thick.

Almost like they didn’t render the top half of the buildings and the sky but blurred it with white and gray.

Like.

I feel nauseous. But I know this life is worth living.

I’ve got plans

But now I feel nauseous. The plans will have to wait a bit while I lay here on the bed next to my two dogs.

While I lay here letting my thoughts out without moderating them.

it’s funny that dogs who have such keen sense of smell would literally shove their noses up each others asses and then take a deep whiff like you’re supposed to do when tasting wine.

I tried to take a deep whiff of some dog shit, but felt nothing.

that’s how you train your brain to smell again they say, sniff on different things Like that every day, then suddenly it will come back.

I’ll try it. See me try it. I will smell this world. I will enjoy this life and will stop clinging to the weights keeping me down. I will soar again, and it will be an awesome sight to behold. Just watch.

I will go running again, listening to Ava Max, I’ve seen there are some new great songs but I do not want to deplete them of the positive charges, that is only for when running.

I will run

But first I’ll lay here with my dogs next to me. I love them.

I’ll lay here for a bit feeling nauseous.

I’ve long been wanting to write about dwarves. They’ve grown in my eyes.

I quit my job the other day. I feel unburdened now, light as a feather but still with a gnawing sense of unease at what might come next. It was from Paradise Hotel that I learned that you cannot put a leash on a wolf, and I have been leashed and it is that leash which has been chafing me and now its absence feels thrilling. So it’s true for a donkeys too.

I’ve been talking with my best friend when we were having 1on1 about which Patronuses we had, you know like in Harry Potter and I knew without thinking that I was (mine was) a donkey. (He is a bear). (This professional exchange is one of greatest significance in my life). I shall point out here, just because it matters to me (but has no bearing on this text in general) that this friend he too has a faiblesse for Dwarves (at this time I identified more closely to elves however)

Some might say that having a Donkey as a Patronus is some sort of self-deprecation but then they forget that Jesus rode into Betlehem on a donkey, to which they might counter that it was the symbolism of riding on a donkey of all animals which really made the point of Jesus’ so humble mindset, to which I’d say exactly.

Indeed.

Anyway so the dwarves, I’ve been listening again to Wind Rose, and once again I am struck by how a band can have six full-length albums without a single bad track, but mostly about the profound lyrics.

I see now the grim dignity of the Dwarves unyielding existence, how they stack on the walls even though they know they will all die. (I would also draw examples from lord of the rings, but for some reason those books didn’t make the same impact on me. I reckon it was the power metal element which finally opened my eyes. (Or the books were read at a point in my life when I wasn’t really receptive to the rich symbolism in there)).

Dwarves toil endlessly, are fiercely loyal and unyielding.

Dwarves are headstrong too, just like donkeys.

Their vices are greed and possibly gluttony.

So back to the point I am making:

I shall draw power from my inner dwarf as I now venture into a new chapter of my professional life, and if need be, I’ll call on my donkey Patronus.