The happy place

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.

H😷

Hello hello I’m smelling stuff right now, but

My cortisone treatment is ended, it’s fading already

I shall have to spend next week eating stuff I like before it’s too late

Like stuff with cinnamon or tzatziki and stuff

Even miso soup!! I think that’s umami

I have been outside taking care of stuff in preparation for winter.

Stuff such as outdoor furniture which I put into the barn to be stored til spring.

Don’t you sometimes wish you were a outdoor furniture?

I am ill prepared for the darkness, you see. For the cold and the darkness.

However I did see aurora borealis yesterday with my own eyes, it’s like a remnant of the old gods I think. Like a piece of bifrost up there.

It looks too good to be true.

And I saw the stars up there too

There’ll be more of that, I’ll let them guide me through the winter

But first this week of smell and the fall, another round in the mangle

Another round but I have only some thirty years left until retirement

I hope i live that long ✌️✌️

What might this weekend have in store for us?

Will it be terrible,?? Some pain or something? I sure hope not.

A cool thing I’ve done this week is I bought a spherical lip balm which smells of urinoar stones, you know the stuff they put in there? not kidney stones.

So that is something this week I have done for my own sake.

I have it in my pocket

urinoar lemon sm

Today I went to Lidl.

I had my long hair on me and a beige brown sweater, and I saw a bright and colourful world around me, yet again my eyes strayed on the foliage of the trees and marvelled at their colourful leaves up there, green, red and yellow like fruit salad.

I met a friend on the way there, who was taking his Jeep to the parking lot to be photographed, as he is selling it because something is wrong with the transmission, it sometimes just stops working and the car comes to a halt.

The Lidl building is charming for how ugly it looks and how mal placed it looks with its saddle roof and function even on this street. It looks ugly even in comparison to the gas station nearby.

Inside it I saw many interesting things, like this young couple one of them (the female) was pregnant and they were looking at potatoes, then an old lady with curly white hair and a purple jacket.

I was amazed by that thought that they all had complete life just like mine and that they each one has thousand stories in them but we just pass each other, likely for the last time.

It’s a type of vertigo like sensation, hard to describe, not of being insignificant, not at all, but rather it’s just the opposite; all of these people are significant, all of them carry so much with them, dreams and nightmares and that’s what dazzled me, not that I am just one of them makes me any less, but I guess it’s the duality of being insignificant and also significant depending on where you zoom.

Then my neighbour called while I was shopping zucchini and asked whether to install Windows 11 and I said I would help even though I know she might not have a TPM module or whatever, I will have to go there and assess the situation. These neighbours are so kind and gentle and I am richer for knowing them.

Anyway, I stopped by the spices section because I want to smell as many if them I can before it is too late, and some I have completely forgotten what they smell like and therefore as you can understand I took a fistful of spice boxes.

I look forward to opening all of them to smell them I want to remember what they smell like.

Then I saw a corpulent old man with glasses and an impossibly big nose, almost like a troll and chuckled to myself because it was the reflection of myself in a mirror I saw, and I found the realisation amusing rather than unsettling.

Inspired by my grotesque reflection I went and bought a 10€ black fleece vest to complete the look.

I’ll start buying all my clothes at Lidl

Hello I wanted so badly to write about the soup I had for dinner today!

Soup is a category of food which I typically don’t eat, but I have changed a lot lately, and I savour the opportunity to familiarise myself with myself again, and in so doing I have discovered and renewed my appreciation for soup.

There’s a bakery nearby. A French one 🇫🇷⚜️🇫🇷⚜️

I understand why many people love France and the iconic Count of Monte Christo, and the also iconic Eiffel tower, and that even though some fools have built higher towers elsewhere, they are mere copies.

They make levain beads in there, in the bakery: real French bread and baguette. Levian baguette which I can buy on my way home for lunch, and then I can just heat up some soup and eat like a king.

If you picture this, it’s easy to understand what a privilege it is to have what is a small portal to France just next block, where you could even get a croissant.

So back to the soup, I had one today which was very funny, because it was a type of Mexican soup which looked just like vomit.

Just like vomit.

With this rich thought in my head I went out into the evening darkness. There wasn’t one single star visible, and the cold autumn rain felt cold on my skin.

For whatever reason, a smell of sewage filled the crisp air, an overflowing septic tank somewhere? As I walked along the streetlights, past the bakery and onwards into the night I had a strong feeling of thankfulness for this beautiful world with soup and France, and a lump in my throat, a feeling of maybe having opened an old wound.

A feeling, maybe of sewage, or of vomit?

A release which stings the eyes. A strange duality of life.

The world is very strong right now, like concentrated juice: Red leaves together with orange and green ones are crowning the trees, it doesn’t look real. The air is chilly and there are smells from everywhere: perfume, exhaust from passing cars and bread from the bakeries! The food tastes incredibly rich and different and the coffee does too. The coffee smells of coffee!

And I smell! Either it’s a coincidence this week that I smell of sweat, or I always smell, just that I notice it now because I got my sense of smell to smell my smell with now. Who knows? I got deodorant now which reminded me of high school locker rooms. A time which will never come back and for that I am grateful!

I read a novel in Books of blood, by Clive Barker it was part two maybe about someone who got amplified senses to the point where even a fly landing on his skin felt like torture. It feels like that now except not bad but good. Luckily I do not live in a horror fiction.

I don’t think so anyway.

I saw the Demon Slayer film with my daughter the other day and it made a surprisingly strong impression on me! The characters were rich and all of the demons and humans came across to me as philosophers, one said something along the lines of happiness being a sheet of glass and it struck a chord in me, because of how brittle it all is.

Hello I haven’t slept I have better things to do.

Indeed.

Like coughing: Endless nights of coughing. Aren’t they long?

And yet, the terrible feeling of waking up; the nausea, subsided and I felt ready to face another day head on which is my modus operandi, (just like Solomon Kane.).

I have some cortisone, some nicotine and caffeine in the system now, which I believe is why I’m feeling this energy. Quite a lot.

Today on going home from work after many a profound thought, many great ideas, but little to no work done in the traditional sense

in fact it was hard to not only focus but also to think anything. Which is interesting then how come I get such vivid visions in my head? It doesn’t add up? Such strong texts (the veil is getting thinner) I save for my book. Wait and see!

Anyway, today on going home, as I opened the door making my exit, I was overwhelmed by impressions: The mild air, streets sprinkled with orange, yellow and red leaves, illuminated by the bright shining sun, but mostly I was awestruck by a really intense sweet smell, which turned out originating from a churros kiosk some hundred meters further down the street.

Standing erect in the sunshine, feeling all of this, seeing all of this, hearing whatever I was listening to (In Mourning) I had a feeling that I was for some reason getting special treatment.

Following the scent of the churros, I was bombarded by others; of cinnamon buns from the bakery, the intense alcoholic smell of windshield washing fluid from a car passing by at great speed.

There were smells everywhere: of shampoo, of fabric softener, of my own sweat smelling of barbecued pork. All the way home I went in this fashion, sometimes confused as I was trying to trace all of the scents.

Somehow I felt like daredevil, he is blind but he senses the world with type of a batlike radar. It was similar to that but my radar were made of smells.

I felt supercharged like in fact a type of super hero with elevated everything.

And

Then I had sushi, the miso soup smelled strongly of I think umami, the sushis smelled of fish and everything tasted so good, so strongly that it was like the best meal I ever had, and I don’t particularly like sushi.

I love sushi now.

I know that this sense of smell is borrowed to me and bought by the cortisone treatment. I know that it will soon again fade, as all things do. Even as we all do. But here and now it serves only as a reminder to write it down and save, and rather than mourn what will soon be taken back, give thanks for days such as this.

Like I read this once in Count of Monte Christo and it really stuck with me it’s that

There is neither happiness nor unhappiness in this world; there is only the comparison of one state with another. Only a man who has felt ultimate despair is capable of feeling ultimate bliss. It is necessary to have wished for death in order to know how good it is to live.....the sum of all human wisdom will be contained in these two words: Wait and Hope.

My dog, the red one, she’s licking my face now. Some say that she has got a bad breath, but I don’t know.

Last night I was unable to sleep, as I lay coughing out the remnants of my cold. But the good thing is that I took the opportunity to write the foreword of my book in my head. It will be a book which may not be published before I die.

Today I’ve had strange energy nonetheless because I’m in a high cortisone dose, and I have been drinking considerable amounts of caffe latte, because I’ve figured it out, I know how to work the coffee machine at work now. The steam snout.

But now I could probably sleep as I have spent all of my energy. It’s on yellow now, on energy saving mode, and I have set up realistic goals for myself.

A secret key to happiness I find is setting up realistic goals I will become level 45 before years end.

In Pokémon go

I saw a rainbow today when I was running and it had just stopped raining.

Running is an exaggeration but technically it’s true as I had only one foot at a time on the ground, 

Anyway.

Still I saw the rainbow and further along the track: the sun peeked out between two gray clouds to extra illuminate some Mallards resting on the grass in the park near the waterfront promenade.

They were beautiful and peaceful and the rainbow is a good Omen!

The Mallards are very beautiful and versatile creatures, perfectly shaped for flying and swimming.

This is just the type of thing I needed on a Sunday, to see these beautiful things and feel the badness sweated out and exhaled and to listen to Ava Max Motto

I know that running does this to me, so why don’t I do it more often?

I have had a cold , on closer inspection it’s no inner mystery of knowing what’s good for you vs. doing it. Sometimes the only inner battle fought is just a plain cold.

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 .