They’ve got this sushi carousel at the train station where the sushi is inside plastic balls going round and round to everybody’s delight, but it’s expensive and the taste is OK and it’s always been there as far as I know, spinning these expensive sushis round and round. At least it was there ten years ago when I was there last time (but the sushis themselves are of course new)
I have a very neutral relationship to sushi.
I am feeling sad or rather like there’s something wrong that I don’t quite know a sort of melancholy which visits me from time to time leaving a lump at the back of my throat. It’s strangely also a relief to feel this way as if it’s letting the pressure out. Maybe it’s a secret luxury to feel a bit sorry for myself here as I sit writing this text. Also this irregular temper, or rather temper like on a sinus curve, or like the ebb and flow like the gravitational field from the moon, is making me a more interesting person.
Some people equate being deep with being sad, or rather it’s a common theme in Bachelor that the women do no not only want to joke around and smile but also show they’ve got a deeper side, more serious, thus implying that the opposite; the happiness, with being shallow which I absolutely do not agree with as I find that laughing in the face of danger, much like Stubb did in Moby Dick, have you read that one? Is something perfectly rational. I had this quote written from an old book, maybe a planning calendar: something to the effect that you will have to live the same life, walk the same path, regardless if you do it smiling or not, and I hold this for truth.
Hello hello! I Met my father here in this town we are passing through on this road trip we are having.
He said I stem from a long line of renown artists, four five generations down on my mother’s side. On his own side unfortunately however, him being the exception, on his side of the family my ancestors were mostly militaries and nazis.
I got to visit his lovely flat, and saw a few remarkable treasures: a bed from the fifteenth century with a picture of Charles Dickens hanging beside it. Some old carpets. And artworks.
I’m pleased to see he had framed my very first acrylic painting: ”Knäckebröd i skål”; a small sized Renaissance style painting depicting Scandinavian crisp bread (with rye) in a bowl, which I sent him many years back when I finally heeded my calling from the Arts and picked up that brush and what looks like a cake knife and so forth.
What’s more to say about this encounter? He looked like last time I saw him seven or so years ago. I myself looked like I did back then too, I think, except more troll like with grotesque features.
Today as I stood cooking, I am a fantastic chef, which is remarkable because I haven’t got no sense of smell and thus I can’t really taste it. Except. Today I felt the smell of olive oil frying in the pan, but then nothing else.
Speaking of which, tomorrow a friend from school, a bad influence from the past who introduced me to drugs and alcohol and so forth, will pay us a visit.
I feel thankful that someone would deign to do that for me, to be a bad influence, so that I too could get a taste of what it might feel like to live.
I thought I saw the moon through the window just now, but it was just the reflection from the kitchen lamp.
The things of significance of late follows:
Firstly, There is a beautiful scene I get to witness if I set out to jog around nine: half an hour later, halfway through the route, the sun is just about to sink behind the horizon. It casts a bright orange glow which stretches long dark shadows from the birch trees, creating a powerful visual effect with sharp contrasts, like on a Magic: the gathering card. Just around the bend there is a clearing: the sun behind the tall pine trees which line a reasonably sized pond also is a magnificent sight to behold as the reflection on the surface of the still waters makes a shimmering likeness of a golden tiger’s fur.
the problem was that as I was running with my neighbour it felt terrible the whole time because I had a higher pace than usual (he had a lower one).
Secondly I built a computer for my daughter and there’s something wrong it doesn’t boot. I’ll figure it out eventually but the lesson is this: I hate building computers: it’s just me sitting bent over the fool thing trying to connect all of the small cables’ tiny connectors with my big clumsy fists (of steel) to the motherboard etc, meanwhile dripping sweat everywhere and losing my patience from installing stuff wrongly and so forth and the thing is that this happens every time I build one: I detest it from start to finish so why do I think I like it? It’s always made me angry. Maybe the person I subconsciously want to be likes that shit, but it’s a big lie.
Maybe there is a dissonance between who I see myself as, and who I am. Maybe sometimes I turn a blind eye or a deaf ear to facts contrary to this persona I have created (deep), but it feels so pointless especially when it comes to such stupid shit, maybe it was to fit into some nerd archetype or something that I once convinced myself of this computer interest, and then it has been stored as a fact ever since. but I hereby shed my skin I won’t do such stuff more.
They had promised rain and storms yesterday, which would’ve been welcome indeed, because the wells are drying up in the heat outside, but none came. Instead it was a warm and beautiful day and in the evening, the moon shone bright thru gray clouds, a sliver just like in a cartoon like in my little pony or something.
Thus I went out early this morning, before the unrelenting heat, and went fishing with my mum. I caught three, threw them back, but the fourth one I caught I cut its head off with a knife and gutted.
On my fishing rod is printed the text: “never give up” a sentiment which I absolutely do not share, because knowing when to let go and when a cause is lost I think are absolutely essential to make it through this grim world. Sometimes it’s grim. Hold on to what you have like that snail I dreamt about.
I had a dream: there were colours around me, like in a cartoon but it was real, but it was in the dream, there were sharp colours with green grass blades on a turquoise blue sky and I was walking in the high grass or rather it was just a backdrop. With me I had a yellow snail. The type of snails which are lovely with the small houses on their backs. He was keeping up with me, and he was very fat and somehow I knew we were friends.
Then suddenly he was gone.
Maybe he couldn’t keep up.
I believe dreams are rich in symbolism and they interest me a great deal as they may lend a glimpse to our inner workings of our souls.
This dream for example is a reminder to seize the day or maybe not to take for granted all that I have and the people around me and so forth, because time will erase everything and there is no extra need to race to the grave.
also:
Furthermore:
Since the smell I felt of smoked meat the other day, I’ve had a phantom resonance of it lingering somewhere in the sinuses like an echo, but I haven’t sensed any other smell since then.
I’m inside now, next to the AC. I’ve got a brief pause from the heat waves out there.
Yesterday I saw the moon again. And now I’m digging holes to replace the dead apple trees in the orchid out there.
It’s an important job indeed, because it is my legacy.
The dogs are OK.
I’m on vacation. I forgot if this was the first or the second week of vacation, but my wife told me it is the first one.
So I’ve gained a week it feels like, a week of vacation. Much as I forgot how old I was; I thought I was 37 but I was only 36 (at the time). Thus I have gained first a year and now a week.
That’s so good.
And finally a life hack: I’ve taught the swipe keyboard of iOS to write fuck: it’s by adding a custom replacement for duck. 🦆
Today the neighbour’s dog ran away again. Or well more specifically he mostly spends his time up on the hill on their farmstead but sometimes a blast of inspiration strikes him and he runs away and often to our house as we do have our dog here and sometimes she is in heat and therefore he struts around with a very confused look on him, like he was compelled by some strong force and as he reaches his destination he has absolutely no clue what to do next, so instead he shivers and runs zig zag and pees miserably on either side of the road with a facial expression which is of a deeply confused dog. Like he was hexed.
I have always believed that I was the one that herded him back to his home, but it was he who herded me! ; Now thanks to his adventurous lifestyle we have become super friends with these neighbours and why am I writing this
Because
Today I did feel the smell of smoked meat!
We ate some with the neighbours and dogs after a similar herding experience and today I did feel that smell again from smoked meat.
Even several hours later
But I didn’t smell the gasoline? It doesn’t make no sense but after smelling nothing for many days or months maybe? It sure made me happy.
Ok thanks 🙏
greetings!
I had started writing a long post about the lawn mowing but like who cares whether it’s too warm to mow lawns and whether I run out of gasoline or not?, leaving just a shaved thin stripe out there.
Speaking of which, Do you ever worry when going to the dentist or something, having like a root canal filling or something that the dentist suddenly dies or otherwise disappears mid surgery and then what? You sitting there with the excavated hole in that tooth and full of sedation and then what?
I used to go to fitness dance class, would have my step board in the front most row to the right just below the speakers and I would go every Tuesday and I would learn the choreography by heart and I would fantasise about the instructor suddenly had to take an emergency call or something and then I would step up and lead the class in her absence.
Ok so I’ll write some more soon, as you can see, I’ve got my mojo back
I still have no sense of smell which is somewhat of a bummer. Sometimes I try to smell stuff; Like I’d stick my nose in a jar of ground coffee and take a deep whiff, but I’m unsure whether I do sense something faintly, or if it’s just my imagination pulling a cruel prank on me with the phantom smell.
It’s the self deception. the painting of a prettier picture of reality and/or the self that are both good and bad: good because I don’t think life is feasible without at least a slight self deception; how else could we stand ourselves?
Speaking of which, I got a pair of gay looking black shorts from my wife yesterday. She ordered them. I’ve stopped buying clothes. Anyhow so they have a feminine fabric which is semi translucent and therefore you get a hint of what’s underneath but tactfully the rest is left to the imagination. I wouldn’t have bought such sorts myself, but am deeply moved by my wife’s thoughtfulness and so therefore they are my favourite pair.
It’s such mundane manifestations of love which I find makes life so beautiful sometimes, and It is a boon indeed to have people and dogs around you who love you, even though they really know you.
I’ve got two more topics:
Tim Gunn,? The guy from Project Runway seems to be such a warm and kind person, he showcases a lot of empathy. And the funny thing about that show is that I’ve watched a lot of episodes by now, but still I have no clue which garments are bad and which ones are good, so the judges always surprise me. It’s humbling.
And finally there was something more interesting to tell but I did forget it