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62. autumn, the best!
Sitting by the fire. Have a glass of rose at hand, nice and chill. Have my toes tucked into the lambhide. I can hear the storm whipping the trees and an occasional rain blasts the terrace boards right behind me and behind the wall. It sounds as if someone is running and dancing outside. The rain comes and goes with just seconds. As if the winds throw the clouds around in such wild manner, from one side to the other, as if two beasts fight for life. Very equal fight, nobody is winning yet. Logs are slowly burning and the next moment the flames don’t know what direction to burn as the winds try to enter the room through the chimney. Oh, don’t start that chaos inside now!, I quietly whisper. I whisper it to the storm. My favourite thing ever is to follow storm and just watch. Enjoy the play of power. The best is to enjoy it by the sea. I just find a huge rock or fallen tree to sit on and enjoy. First row seats!
I now have first row seats too. I am on the island, back home. Back in the sauna I used to live in. Back home. Back on the island. Nothing has changed since I left more than 25 years ago. Curtains are the same, couch is the same, fireplace is the same. Sounds of forest, rain, storm, all is the same. Soothing and calming. I crave this every autumn. I can’t get enough of it. Strange urge to come home fast. Drive for hours in bliss to the port and then feel the excitement growing with every minute getting closer to home on the ferry. Ferry is new. Not the right smells. That makes me sad. The old ferries had special place in my senses, all the sounds and smells. I can recognise them with closed eyes.
On the way I saw fallen trees on the highway, someone already cut them or dragged off the road. This time the storm is big, strong and going on for 4th day already. My island is without electricity now. I have missed it. I loved it when I was kid. Then we didn’t have to go to school. And the best bit was that then we made fire in the woodfed stove, to the fireplace and mom made cinnamonrolls. We could not see much in the evening with that one lousy candle in the whole kitchen so the rolls came out very “cinnamony”. We did not care much about the rolls actually. Our favourite part was to play with the dough. We snipped of a handful of dough, rolled into a ball and with all the might threw it up to the ceiling. The goal was to throw so hard that the doughball would stick strong and hang in there for as long as possible. Then we waited under the ball with mouth open so to catch the falling doughball with mouth 🙂 and eat it. Disgusting when you think about now! But it was dark and fun and we had, to moms surprise, full stomachs before any cinnamonroll was even backed! She didn’t catch us stealing the dough and never understood how it’s possible that we were full before the rolls were done. One winter when there was again no electricity and we were doing the cinnamonrolls we managed to throw a few balls to the ceiling so strong they didn’t fall back down until the next day. Let me tell you – then, in the bright morning, sun blasting through the huge wall of windows we had in the living room – we saw the balls. The dough balls. There were five balls that we had threwn and that did fall down only some time after we had gone to sleep. The balls. Not beige as you might think. They were dark brown. No, not because of cinnamon. Cinnamon is only put on to the dought once it’s rolled out on the table. Our balls had no cinnamon. That was dirt. The dirt from the ceiling. Disgusting. All the ceiling was covered with light rounds, a trail of our disgusting game. Why the ceiling was dirty? Well, we have such heating. Wooden stoves, fireplace. I don’t think we ever played this doughball again. But we have a blast when the electricity goes off during storms. Remembering the strange ways we entertained ourselves :).
So today I enjoy the trip down to memory lane. I lived here. Even if poor as fuck at that time, I truly lived here. We didn’t know any better. My home, my horses, my dog, school, sports, forests, seaside. Fireplace, candles. Beer, smoking, sauna and more sauna. Love. First love. First loves? Can there be many first loves? I think I secretly loved every day someone new. But as there was nothing coming towards me my love just faded away. Except this one. That broke me. To million pieces. I don’t think I ever gathered all the pieces…. There are many missing. Probably lost somewhere on the island, never to be found again. I can’t fix the void. It’s forever for me to carry. Was it love? No idea…. What is love? I love beer. I love music. Oh, and I love cars! Can I love a person? Or is it just mix of need, lust, fun, comfort? Just like that Apfelstrudel in the morning. And coffee with milk foam on top, and that sprinkle of cinnamon. The tastes familiar from our childhood. The smell of rain. Cotton sheets. Starting fire in the Saturday mo, because it’s cold and day off. Freshly baked bread. Smells from childhood. Is that love? Can there be loving someone whos memories, tastes, smells are nothing like yours? Smell of fear. Well, sure one who grew up in fancy rich comfy home with loving parents giving treats and being real parents will never understand the other one who had to run away from home in order to survive. Or, the one who grew up with cuddles and warmth will never understand the one who got beaten up years on daily basis while only being three years old. So, the chances are close to zero to find that perfect match. We all come from different bubbles. Some prettier, some uglier. No bubble is ever the same. Even brothers and sisters bubbles are different. Like snowflake that is said to never have repeat.
I had hope again, thought for tens and tens of times that this is it. That’s my mate for the rest of my life. So stupid! Most of the crushes didn’t even know of my excistence :). But the longest relationship is still blooming! I am my own biggest love, finally, finally I get along with myself!
I love being alone here, by fireplace, just bedsheets around, lazy night, wild storm outside. I would like to share this with someone who understands these sounds, these smells, and treasures this being. Being, doing nothing.
She closed her eyes and started swaying
But it’s so hard to dance that way
When it’s cold and there’s no music
oh, your old hometown’s so far away
But inside your head there’s a record that’s playing
A song called “Hold on”, hold on
Babe, you gotta hold on
Take my hand, I’m standing right there, you gotta hold on
Good night world,
XOXOX
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61 hold on!
Take my hand, and hold on.
I am standing right here for you.
Monroe hips.
My secret love is Tom Waits.
One of many secret loves that I have 😉
Came out of home today. Blast of heavy rain to my face. Wet in an instant. Why to bother really. I didn’t bother checking the weather first. So I was mentally ready it will be nasty. Autumn is the season of adulthood, ripeness, juicy smells. And death. Giving up. Running out of last power to stick around. Losing reasons and motivation. A small step more and it’s sterile soft white snow. Just a small moment away. Dreadful. Yet my favourite time to fiddle with my inside thoughts, calm down. Calm with another round around. Full moon. Or aurora borealis. There is more and more aurora here it seems. Or, people have more and more fancy equipment to take videos and pictures of it at night. That could be the reason. But I don’t bother. I would love to go to end of Norway to see the aurora, here I am just too lazy. I don’t bother to do any fun thing alone. Kind of pointless. Aah, for the ones that don’t know what aurora is: it’s called also Northern lights or also Polar lights. It’s the magic of sky turning into colourful play of lines, waves, twists and turns at night. There are, for instance, see-through campings in Northern bit of Europe that one can rent and just lay in bed and watch the incredible show through the glass roof. Another thing that has no point in doing alone.
The positive side of autumn is that stuff gets ready. And school starts again. In our dark part of the world being idle in winter would result in chaos. We need something to keep us busy. Otherwise we would just drink ourselves to death. Some folks do that actually. Either drink so much that body gives up, or drink a lot and then go driving and end the trip right on the roadside by that huge tree. Tho I certainly was born in a wrong country…. It took me years to realize that. I always felt out of place. Every winter I died. Physically. For 5 months in a row. Agony. Until I took my suitcase and left for a few weeks in winter. I realized I need sun. More sun that we have here. I came back from the trip and the energy that I gathered from the sun lasted another two weeks here. It was an interesting realization. I also found out many people here live a two phase year – some half year here, other half in Thai or Tenerife or any other warm place. These folks must be geniuses. And rich enough. I aint much rich especially today with the war going on next door. So far my work has been physical – actually moving things around. I have not been able to find the magic of online work that the young people do. I am right there – too old for some things, young for other things.
Now ever more I seek for something called alternative lifestyle. Could be someting to do with languages, travels, design. Don’t now really. AI is taking the language skills over. Soon we will go around waving hands only, as a language. As we do already sitting in the trafficjams 🙂 the singlanguage has taken over long ago. Going back to basic! Simple pleasures, simple ways. Who would have thought thirty years back that young people seek for a farms, countrylife to raise a family and to grow their food. Live indeed goes in waves. Waves in each persons own life, choices, happenings. And bigger waves as in society in general. Hipsters took over suburbs ten years back, now that’s not hip anymore. Today young folks with babies and toddlers roam in countrysides to find livable housing and dump the citylife. Well, that’s a welcomed move! Especially if you know how to survive in the country, read: know how to earn a living. Being homeless in city is much more easy then being homeless in a countryside. Believe me, I know well. Too well.
So the sun is up now. Smells of autumn. I will dig up my autumn gear, all them pullovers, cardigans, hats, scarves, boots. Probably need an umbrella too as I love a stroll in forest or park in autumn. The best time of the year. Until better time comes :).
Stay warm and cool
PS. JD, I am sure the parcel I sent has reached the destination. Could you please give me a sign.
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60. Nothing to add to 60.
I am crying my eyes out for 3 hours straight now. Last I cried like that 17 years ago when my mom passed away. I was on my way to pick her from the hospidal. I got her, after endless fights with various unknown enemies, a new spot in new hospidal that was just 1 kilometre away from my home. I packed my newborn in, it was winter. Annoying, cold, dark. Put my baby to the basket kind of thing you carry them around these days. I have no idea what they are called. l was already sweating like pig. I had all documents ready, ready to go. She was in a hospidal about 40 minutes drive away. Te unknown enemies told me there is no point in trying to get her walk again. They claimed she had no reflexes on her left side. When I tickled her feet she reacted. The unknown enemies told me she is not right in the head anymore. When I talked to her she was there and adequate. Recognised us all. She even recognised my newborn she had not seen at all. And she started to speak to baby in English because that was my homelanguage and she realised she would speak English so baby would understand 🙂 her.
So I got dressed, took baby and my purse and started to get out of my home. Just about to lock the door when I received a call. I collapsed right there and then. I only heard heavy breathing. Heard that mom passed and I said thank you for letting me know. Tears were pouring down on my face. I could not see a thing. I sat on the stairs of the communal area in our building, the building of apartments. I could not see or hear I guess. Or, it was so quiet. I don’t know. My baby was always screaming his lungs out. But not now. He looked devastated. He read my mind. I was broken. My rock is gone. My rock. MY. ONLY. She even didn’t bother to stick around. Whatta cunt!!! For everyone else she was grandma, for every single one of the 7 grandkids. But for me she didn’t bother. What am I thinking?!? She was paralyzed. What stick around??? Thoughts, contraditing in severe way, were running through my head and the tears were running as constant. I didn’t know such amount of water is anywhere in my body just waiting for release. I have to go. I have to go. I kept on repeating to myself that. I have to go. But why? No point anymore. The reason for todays trip was gone. No point to waste time, money, nothing on someting that is gone. Nonexcistent. No relocation anymore. No massages, no therapies, no nothing is needed. They won. They who didn’t believe in her. They who tied up her one working hand so she couldn’t press the “help” button. Yes, I documented it, saved on video. The view on your mom, who was young, just 68 years old, tied up on the bed so that the working hand was tied up to the railings of the bed with some sort of a rag. Dirty rag. That’s how they treat people here. In poor countries. Post Soviet countries, still. After gaining our independence from the shithole of a “country” Ruzzia more than 30 years ago. With leftovers from soviet erat that sometimes work wonderfully but not when it comes to elderly people. Heeh, taking care of elderly was crap even in Soviet union. It was no care at all. Literally. Nonexcistent. And it is so today too.
All of it is, ofcourse, result of multiple factors combined. We are poor. Staff in hospidals is certainly underpaid. Hell, the medical first line worker, some nurse, in the hospital where my mom passed – she had NO eduation! She had learned 9 years in school and worked in pigfarm before she was called out to help out this particular floor in this particular hospital – the “deemed dying floor”. And yes, you don’t really need any education to mop the floors, and pour water to the half dead people. Nothing else to do there.
So I told to my newborn, with the most calm voice I could find in me, to stay quiet, it’s shitty time today, we need to be calm and get going, no yelling, no nothing. My newborn who had been screaming nonstop for the first hours of his life…. he understood. In hindsight I can say he never ever understood again until he went to kindergarden at 3 years old. I thought I was handed a freak, mutant beast, whose goal was to scream his lungs out 24/7 and boy, did he obey the orders.
For the next year I have no recollection of anything. My baby was screaming nonstop. At home he slept 15 minutes maximum. However, in a MOVING CAR it was a different story. But let me tell you, if you are sleepdeprived for a week, for a month, for a half year, it is NOT good idea to go on diving around the city just to get your baby to sleep. And even more, let me tell you – depending on where you live there will be either accident or extremely angry drivers beeping and cursing you. I had no accidents. I realised early on it’s a bad idea to drive around. But I took on takeaway latte with huge “hat” of whipped cream on top, a cherry pie and I was in heaven. I was driving around in the graveyard. With coffee. But the fact that I had not been able to sleep for 5 months in a row caught me. I just parked the car, kept the engine on and slept. A whole 7 minutes. Because the car was not moving he woke up. Posessed. Yelling so loud that he could not breathe anymore, all blue from face.
So. The crying today. I ran into TikTok music video that cut me in pieces. Bringing back the memories from teenage years when I was homeless. Homeless in a country where winters are freezing, – 10C is pretty normal. Today. That time I witnessed temperatures of – 25C. In “american” it means – 13F. That was common that time before all the global warming hit in. And let me tell you, the song swept me off from my feet so badly, I again realised the amount of water in me that was just waiting for the release order for 17 years. I cried so that I could not see around me. The song of one of the artists that kept me alive in -25C/ -13F was “Hold on” by Tom Waits. I was just prepping quich lorraine and parisian applepie when the TikTok feeded me this and it hit me like a freighttrain. I was paralyzed. Within few seconds my chest was wet from tears, I could not see nor hear anything around me. I could not finish the baking.
When I was homeless for almost two years, from when I was about 14 years old, I had nothing. We as a nation became free not long before. Together with Latvia, Lithuania and Ukraine. Together with Latvia and Lithuania we created a human chain of som 600 kilometres long, throughout all of our Baltic countries. Then ruzzians killed some people in Lithuania, shot dead or ran over with tanks. We were on the verge. But we had own money now. Getting own currency was proud moment for us all. Except when people had gathered some riches they lost everything. The people who had savings to start someting when the time was right lost everything. My mom had rather huge sum of rubles that she wanted to use to start some business. Now, the ruzzians left, leaving trail of shit behind them. We got independence and own money. The exchange of rubles to our cronor however, was disasterous. It was fixed sum on each person, adults had slightly more than kids. But anyways, mom went to the bank to get our new own money, had all documents with her. She got the money for all of our family which was supposed to be total of every persons monthly allowance. Sort of. A sum that you had to live for a month. My share was 10 kronor, crowns. I went to Midsummers fest few days later. I remember so vividly there were people proud, happy, excited, of our freedom, of getting rid of them orcs. I also remember vividly there was all the banned things in broad daylight – the capitalism literally exploded! We had chewinggum! We had beer in cans! Until that time we only could see them in a special KGB guarded foreign shop in our capital. And that shop did not even let you in if you did not have Finnish marks with you. Or German, or US or any foreign strong currency. You could only buy chewinggum if you had familymember that was a sailor. Apart of sailors nobody could go abroad. Or maybe a pilot. But they were followed by KGB on daily basis.
So I went to Midsummers party with my monthly allowance of 10 kronor. That was when I thought living in soviet union was better than being free. With all the festive people and the shaschlik, national dances – stupid, right – huge fire and homemade beer that no party was ever complete I also saw a stand (very new thing for us) with Finnish stuff. And there it was. Canned beer. Lapin Kulta. The distinctive colours I recognised immediately. How, you ask, can you recognise Finnish banned canned beer if it was all so forbidden? Yes, let me tell you. It was times of limited possibilities. But we, as a nation living by the sea, and being all sailors and so, fancied all the colourful foreign things. We, honestly, asked the sailors to bring us the cans, the colourful stuff, the candies, real COFFEE, and the richest ones asked and prepaid for the sailor friend to bring JEANS. The soda cans however were not for kids. Nor had I any sailor friends. But that made me even more eager to collect the cans. Empty cans! I had whole wall covered with different cans! Sprite, Coke, beers from various places but mainly Finland. I also collected candy papers. Colourful little papers. Shiny little papers. We didn’t have them in Soviet union. We swapped!!! Can you imagine to have a fight over an empty beercan? Oh, yes. ’til bleeding!
So I recognised the Lapin Kulta can. I had two of Lapin Kulta beercans at home, empty ofcourse. And I decided I want to try it. I went, 12 years old, and saw the price was 5 kronor, crowns. Half of my monthly allowance. Half of what a person should live for for a month. I ordered one can of Lapin Kulta. I got it, went to see the huge fire, sat down near the fire to keep me warm and there and then I tasted the freedom. Expensive freedom. I was happy, confused, scared. All at once. As how to survive for the remaining month with money that is worth just one small beer.
If I could do it as a teenager… you can do it. I survived 2 winters on the streets when we had nothing. There was just 6 homeless people then!! Even being homeless was all new to us. In soviet union being homeless was forbidden. Also, being handicapped was forbidden :). I tell you more about on how the grass was painted green back then.
Price of freedom. Lapin kulta. Nobody can take away the beer from me. I think that first Laping kulta sensation, freedom, all the emotions was one of the moments that made me. Lapin kulta means Lapland gold. Well. I have not tried Lapland gold after that one time. I now feel the need to get one, to see if the taste bring back some memories. I might get one. Will let you know if that hit me like a freighttrain too.
Hold on.
Slava Ukraini.
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59 Summer over
For most of the people the summer ends when kids go to school. Farmers prep for the harvesting, all sorts of tractors and combines are running on highways going from one field to another. Everything changes suddenly. Just yesterday there was everything flowery and green, now swallows gathering for last rounds here, checking if everyone has learned to fly properly, excercising.
Smell. Smell of mushrooms and rain. Quiet. Just like mellow evening, candlelight, quiet music, nice book. Apples, plums. Applepie season. I make killer Parisien apple pie. Oh, I need to make one now. It’s beyond delicious and I make it for my cafeteria every autumn. Actually I make two because one of them disappeares before reaching the cafeteria :). This year I will have cafeteria open for few more days in September. Did not manage to put in the running water and WC and bathrooms and so on. Hell with that. I am not in hurry either.
Sudden heavy rain pouring down makes all people run into my cafe and as it’s weird just standing there – especially as nobody knows when the rain is about to end – everyone lines up in the queue and for good thirty minutes I hand out cakes, macroons, and keep on doing one coffee after another. All while explaining what sort of a building is this and to few entitled guests I tell the truth about hunted house…. That rainy situation makes me happy as everyone turns to hot coffee or cocoa or tea. I sell everything out by the lunch hour. Fix up few more quiches, one with bacon, another with sundried tomatoes and smoked chicken. They need some 30 minutes in the owen so when they come out they are practically sold already. Oh, I love me a rainy day! I can soothe all pain away with hot chocolate and steamy pie!
Searching now for some good pumpkin receipes, for the last cafe. Sort of going to be almost Halloween theme there. Love autumn, when everything is ready to pick, apples, plums, mushrooms!!! Forgot about mushrooms! I went few times this year, had a blast! I am most fascinated of the smells and sounds in forests, and eating away with various wildberries. Hunter gatherers 🙂
Prepping my garden for the spring already. Dug up majority of the bulbs of tulips and now remains to find the alliums too. I have to replant them so in spring my flowerbeds will be perfect. Few times to mow the lawn yet and the snow can come. Saw the babies of the wild cats too, one of the mums brought hers to sleep on my balcony, nicely on pillows ;). Three stripy tigers. I hope somebody will catch them and take home. I sure have no space for more cats, even though I would love to get them all off from the streets. Unfortunately.
With that note.
Stay warm and stay cool,
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58 Just. Just. Just
Just call me.
Just write me.
There must be written in the stars.
Something.
Something good.
There must be something good after so much bad.
For you.
For me.
For us.
For a new start.
Only good.
Even though every now and then I like to read some fancy predictions of sodiacs or “birth” cards or what not, and mellow myself in the nice daydreaming and visualizing some fun, lovely, life-changing movie-like situations…. still, most of the times, it just gets down to common sense. And I am down to earth person. After all that I have been through. After all that I have seen. But why not? Why not something good and unbelievable to be happening to me? Who decides that? I sure work towards something. Something good. Something so absurd that it makes no sense. These bits are the best. Nobody believes. And when those strange things happen it’s like godsend. Strangest encounters, impossible happenings, once in a lifetime things. I want one of those. Just one. Who said it’s not for me?
Some ten+, or 15+?. 20+?, years ago I went to cinema to see the “all-good-reviews” movie called something like “Love. Live. Laugh”. Beyond dissappointed. I have never seen more boring crap in my life. Because to watch boring films I usually don’t go to. And, when that happens, I recognise immediately it’s stupid movie, take on comfy pose and fall asleep within five minutes. Or leave. I have paid many a times for sleeping in the movietheatre. But that movie. I stayed and I stayed awake hoping it will be good now. Or now. Or now. Anything funny, please. No. I stared of the screen hoping it will be twist out of boredom into some fun. No. Pissed off. I could have hoovered the floor or washed the linens or what not. There is one thing I hate in life. It’s wasting time on stupid things. That was certainly stupid movie. I regret nothing but that movie and falling in love. I regret falling in love that one time. I was blinded. I was in so deep. I was so stupid. But it was sweet. Until I realised he used me. You know the guy who came to me to fuck all night and in the morning said he had work appointment…. The fucking part was good as always. But the “appointment” was on Saturday :). Two weeks later I saw in newspapers him on the front cover, all dressed and neat with his brand new wife. I am not sure what I thought that moment. I was in such shock. After that he did not come to meet me. I must have felt useless. Used and useless. What do men think when they fuck around months and days before their wedding?
I am jealous of the rain that falls upon your skin. I am jealous of the wind that ripples through your clothes. Such a lovely song. The world was on fire and no-one could save me but you. It’s strange what desire will make foolish people do. I never dreamed I meet somebody like you. Another song that makes my heart sink. And the same time it makes me sing. Until my throat clogs up on tears.
But I dream.
Constantly.
That keeps me going.
That keeps me awake.
I have sent the parcel with the skript. Actually a few scripts. I will keep on writing. Those bits are not completed. I have to take break from writing because it’s suffocating at times. When the memories struck. They struck hard and exactly when you don’t expect. The voice. I hear. I have excellent hearing. I can recognise a car by the sound of its engine. I can recognise person by her or his voice. I hear when person smokes. I know I am nuts. But it’s true. The way the voice changes. I can hear when person lies to me. Because the voice changes. You just can’t fool me. So better not try. It’s always better to not lie. Better not try to lie. I hear it in your voice. I have a hearing of a blind person, my mom said. And it is a blessing and a curse the same time. Truth wins. There is a saying one can be fooled just once. As I understand it means you have wasted your chance if you try to fool me. There is no second chances in my life. I don’t know if it’s good or bad. I have been burned so bad it doesn’t leave any room for second chances. I guess. Even if the person was/ is great I can only give one try. Even though I have tried. I tried to ignore some of the greatest insults ever. But in the end it did not work out. For instance I thought once with the “happily ever after” guy that I don’t mind that he bought his ex a car for my money. I tried. I tried to ignore it. I tried because he was a good man. Good man but so socially so incredibly dumb that it amazes me to this day that he has live to be 55. But I failed :). So we parted. And he still doesn’t understand one doesn’t buy a car for ex for the money girlfriend gives. Go figure. Maybe I am dumb then :).
Good judgment comes from experience, and most of that comes from bad judgment. This lesson was well learned and I still keep on learning.
Thinking of upcoming winter. Clearing up garden. All those flowers that done their blooming. It is a sort of a therapy. Digging in the soil, cleaning up, burning the little fire with sticks and some leaves. Setting up new flowerbeds. I now have excellent lavendel borders everywhere. I shall make more like that. It will be like French countryside next year. Boy, I am mighty!
School. Who can forget about upcoming new schoolyear! Soon must go to the most dreadful of tasks ever – shopping. I hate that. There are only few things I ever hated with all my heart. I usually consider myself extremely tolerant. Until the shit hits me and I realise I also hate stupidity and russians. But those two became synonymus last year and a half ago. I hated them ruzzen already earlier but I put on a good faith thinking the ones I met were minority. It turned out I was wrong. They are all stupid as fuck. Majority, ok, majority are dumb as fuck.
Anyways. I write this in a secret place. With 7th beer and brie and prosciutto crudo and some ciabatta. No, I am not in Italy though I really would like to be. Maybe later. Later I will go to Italy to cheer myself up. Rome. Or Sorrento. Or even Sicily. It’s really odd how your body recognises things. Like my body recognised that my roots are in Malta and Italy. Before I knew it. It was like dejavu. And only after a few trips I looked up our family history and I kid you not, in 1635 was the first church books’ writing of our greatgreatgreatgreatgereat…..fathers who figured life in Malta and Italy was way too boring and came up north for fun and easy life :). Before that escape they were warriors in Burian wars in todays Tunisia. That’s why my mom had pitch dark wavy hair with blue shine. My grand-dad had afro 🙂 which here, all white country in the beginning of 1900s, was very rare to say the least. No, it’s even today rare because we are still 99,9 % white (read: who wants to live in this shithole of a country ;)). I have only warriors character and plain potato coloured hair with a touch of red. I get a killer tan tho.
Anyways, Johnny, give me a sign that you received the package well. Comments on the contence most welcome. Even if you send me straight to hell. I am literate so I understand 🙂
Stay cool
Stay warm
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57 no more no less
As a rain I fall to the garden
as a wind I fly around
As a rain I fall to the garden
as a wind I fly around
in your night
I am the moon watching over
As a fire I carry power
as a dew on the meadow I caress your feet
in your night
I am the moon watching over
as a lake I see whats above
as a sky I listen whats below
in your night
I am the moon watching over
as a hill I keep silent
as a sea I calm your home
in your night
I am the moon watching over
my door was always open
you did not come
I used to love
listen til you are free
somewhere behind the trees there is freedom
look, oh look, its coming
quietly it disappeares
golden trees, falling leaves
we are late
I have loved
I have lost
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56. summer solstice
Yes, now it’s on. I came to start the summer on my home island. I came right on time, on 20th June. Loaded 4 cases of beer, 10 litres of white and rose, 10 kilos of various meats for BBQ, suitcase full of sheer dresses and shorts and swimwear and SPF creams-sprays-lotions. It’s on. Heatwave is on. While driving here my cars thermometre showed 32C. While driving. Not in some insane parkinlot with no shade. So I am all prepared and ready. I took all I could imagine. Except anything warm in case 20C in the night feels freezing. AND, yes, you guessed it right. First night at about half past midnight I was still outside and I thought I will freeze to death. I checked the thermometre – it showed 22C! Oh, yes, looks like I need some shopping. Well, I don’t really mind supporting the local business.
Ferry takes about one and half hours to get to the island, including the loading, berthing and discharge. If these are not the correct words for ferry operations, then sorry, I only work with cargo ships :). Ferry ride is like 100% better than it used to be 20+ years back. I think I have a post about my childhood trauma of being stuck in ferry for 32 hours in freezing cold in the middle of the sea. At winter, with minus 32C. We lost hope…. until it started to be warm, a whole minus 26C. Then there came hope of getting out of the icy frozen sea…. If not I shall tell one day of this insane trip. Today the ferries are very pretty little things taking on some 100 cars I think…. never really counted the number of cars on the new ferries. Should do some research because it’s really fascinating for me. All that is related to sea, ships, fishing, transport, all that is my thing.
Each metre I get closer to the island feels so strangely mine. My home, my island, my everything. I don’t know if anyone else has this feeling going home. But I do. Maybe it’s because I have to cross the sea to get there. It’s in a way crossing an invisible border. To the other side. To the unknown. And the same time to everything I know. I know probably 90% of the island. Roughly. I know each big road, I know some shortcuts in some places, some forests, some houses, some people. Some people because I have been away from the island for many decades. And the young locals I have no idea who they are. Some of them I can recognise by face of which family they are from. You know, if I used to know their dads or moms when I was young. And I recognise some of my schoolmates, some of my friends friends, my sisters ex boyfriends, my own crushes. Some oldies still work in the same places they worked 20+ years ago. Funny. That’s the stability I could not stand. For me it was stagnation, not stability. I need to move ahead. Change, grow.
So I go to town, the only real town we have here on the island. I chat a bit with my ex neighbour. I mean, neighbour from the time when I lived here. She still works in the meat section in shop. The shop is new tho. She is still happy camper. I see my classmate Martin, I last saw him 30 years ago. He greets me and tells me happy holidays. I am stunned and ask why 🙂 :). Then realise it’s one of the biggest holidays indeed. I just came home, not for holidays particularly. Just home. But I gather myself quick and reply some greetings to him. The summersolstice is huge holidays here because it’s at the same time with one of our victory days and we celebrate it all together with huge fires, music, dances. Which all together means we have three if not four days off. And the days off are sacred here. We have so few of them that it sometimes feels we are working non stop like japanese. Even the duration of fully paid vacation of 28-52 days per year is somehow miserable considering our neighbouring country has 17 bank holidays but we have only 11. The fact that I have looked up this data also confirms how miserable we feel 🙂 refusing to celebrate the slightest of reason. So summersolstice with fires, dances, looking for love during the longest night is our inborn right and that we celebrate like nutters. Everyone tries to get their paid vacation at the same time so cities are literally empty. Nobody is in town. Like abandoned. But instead every corner of countriside is full of our local tourists, cityfolks who bring in the money. Our islands survive exactly like that – they have to sell everything and more within the 4 summermonths we have so they are able to live the remaining year on this income. Everyone has a cabin or 4 for rent. Everyone has cafeteria. Everyone goes fishing wee hours in the morning in order to sell what the sea gives.
Enjoy the summer. It might aswell be soon constant autumn with all the global warming.
Stay cool and hot
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55 as a small jubileum
Celebrating summer, love, birds, blue skies, and, foremost – school is out for summer! Just like Alice Coopers song! Kept the celebration decent, which is easy for me in daylight ;). Indulged in a real nice sea-side restaurant, with lovely creations coming out of kitchen and fine selection of really nice wines. Had a blast! I love this place as it’s right on the beach and they are among the top 5 restaurants in our country. I just love it there! Sort of obsessed really, going too often there ending up knowing their own menu better than the staff :). Watching some kids play in sand and in the sea!, ferries and cruise liners passing by, sipping bubbly and sunbathing. Gorgeous day!
But that very same day made me realise how I miss adult conversatsions, fun talks, fun walks, holding hand or just sitting in silence doing nothing. Saying nothing. And still knowing it all. I miss knowing what is said without words. This divine connection between two people. When you are in different countries you know exactly what the other one is doing. I have had it in my life. But, as the faith has it, not always meant to last. Which is pity as you sort of feel that you have wasted time. Really painful. A lot of time infact. Years! Bittersweet realisation. When you realise the other person wasn’t really into it. Wasn’t really into you. Such a sad mix of emotions, with huge part of it telling you are useless, not wanted, not loved. Well, and you think…. at least I had fun, we had fun while it lasted.
Even though you used me all the possible and impossible ways. For instance I gave you money to get rid of debts. And you went and bought car to your ex with this money. Which means the debt remained. And you were upset that I dumped you after I found out of this fancy gift you made to your ex. You played it like it’s my fault, my guilt :). That was a fun play. Didn’t think there are such men outside! But now I have seen it all.
Has been some time since I last was out. It has been ages since I was out out. Really out, with dancing and drinking and singing-screaming lungs out. Kinda miss a good night out. But ofcourse don’t miss the next morning much. In advance already. But I am well prepared and waiting! Now some concerts coming up, Megadeth and Scorpions and Till Lindemann and I think to myself, hell, I will take max out of all cultural events coming up. Even without holding hands! I can do everything alone. Hell, I have done everything alone! Just sometimes there is this crippling feeling of getting fed up fighting alone. I just want to share. My life. Sort of. Without any strings attached. Just to see where it goes. Like a river. Just wonder out and see where you end up. And with whom. Sure I have an idea of who the “whom” would be, as the reader here knows too. That’s like a distant dream that will never come true. But it’s still a good dream. Someone told long ago dreams are a must. They are the inner power to get you going and keep you going. Especially the horror dreams or nightmares :).
So here I am. Sunbathing nude in my garden. Broad daylight. Sort of working day for all the common people. I am writing this with my head in the shade and the rest of me in the sun. A real pro I say! Wild birds never shut up, they kept me up whole night yesterday and it seemed the sun never went down either. The birds are so cool and used to me being around they come pretty close to me. Like few feet away. So I put them a little saucers with water out because it’s now peak of heat for few weeks. Hasn’t rained at all for a month. All grass is burned and most households can not use drinking water to save their gardens. I, however, have no drinking water at my place yet. So I can water all my garden and nobody can tell me off or give me ticket. I have a lake at my garden. Which doesn’t mean I let the water run non stop, no, I just have my flowers watered at night. And pray to Thor to get some rain soon. He loves me, so he will be around soon. He loves all blondes busty chicks sunbathing naked. What normal man doesn’t? So I have prepped good for him to hear my prayers :). Any day now.
The out out thing tho. I probably will have to get my ass to London or Berlin or even Vienna. Or Amsterdam. These places are good for incognito strolling around and being naughty. Not that I am much naughty but I like when nobody knows me. There is ofcourse the chance that I run into a fellow countryperson. I always have. But then I keep quiet and pretend I don’t understand a word they say. I prefer new people, new views on life, new information.
So now in few days officially the summer starts. I haven’t even sawn (whats the word for putting potatoes into ground?) potatoes yet. Such a mighty manager of my houshold. Frostbite took all my tomatoes, apples, pears, cherries. Probably a strong hint from invisible forces to cut down on eating 🙂
Anyways, tuuduluu to everyone, keep warm and cool,
Love to all,
May all have only good things happening,
Slava Ukraini!
-
Jeff Beck
Ofcourse I wanted to go. But I was probably just two hours late. Or even worse, a thirty minute delay. Or three minutes. God knows. Literally. By the time I got to the computer to get me some tickets to London concert I saw just fancy sign of “sold out” on my screen. I had alarm clock set for myself for that morning when the tickets came on sale. But, as always on these important dates, I was calles to work. Just this one day on this week. One day. This one day when I needed to be at my desk, with my coffee, staring out ouf the window into the bright spring morning and warming up my wrists to fiddle with the online purchase. Bummer.
Now this is playing in my Youtube for few days. Bliss. Gorgeous outcome! Love Eric Clapton, love Billy Gibbons. I think I know their all songs by heart. Yes, I am ol’ fart 🙂
Looking forward to the important day this Friday. Johnnys’ Birthday! Yippii! I will sing him a song or two for his Birthday. For sure. One of them is Leonard Cohen Dance me to the end of love… let me see your beauty when the witnesses are gone…
Another is Simon & Garfunkels Sound of Silence. And then a whole load of songs out loud and wrong :). Springsteen Tougher than the rest perhaps. Maybe some Rammstein to finish off as a desert. Or cherry on top. Uh, how generous I am.
But above all. I dream of the shadows of Vienna. The walks in Belvedere. Klimt. Whole day of Klimt. And sunshine. Quiet.
Now in Vienna there’s ten pretty women
There’s a shoulder where death comes to cry
There’s a lobby with nine hundred windows
There’s a tree where the doves go to die
There’s a piece that was torn from the morning
And it hangs in the Gallery of FrostAey, aey, aey, aey
Take this waltz, take this waltz
Take this waltz with the clamp on its jawsOh I want you, I want you, I want you
On a chair with a dead magazine
In the cave at the tip of the lily
In some hallway where love’s never been
On a bed where the moon has been sweating
In a cry filled with footsteps and sandAey, aey, aey, aey
Take this waltz, take this waltz
Take its broken waist in your hand
This waltz, this waltz, this waltz, this waltz
With its very own breath of brandy and death
Dragging its tail in the seaThere’s a concert hall in Vienna
Where your mouth had a thousand reviews
There’s a bar where the boys have stopped talking
They’ve been sentenced to death by the blues
But who is it climbs to your picture
With a garland of freshly cut tears?Aey, aey, aey, aey
Take this waltz, take this waltz
Take this waltz it’s been dying for yearsThere’s an attic where children are playing
Where I’ve got to lie down with you soon
In a dream of Hungarian lanterns
In the mist of some sweet afternoon
And I’ll see what you’ve chained to your sorrow
All your sheep and your lilies of snowAey, aey, aey, aey
Take this waltz, take this waltz
With its, I’ll never forget you, you know
This waltz, this waltz, this waltz, this waltz
With its very own breath of brandy and death
Dragging its tail in the seaAnd I’ll dance with you in Vienna
I’ll be wearing a river’s disguise
The hyacinth wild on my shoulder
My mouth on the dew of your thighs
And I’ll bury my soul in a scrapbook
With the photographs there, and the moss
And I’ll yield to the flood of your beauty
My cheap violin and my cross
And you’ll carry me down on your dancing
To the pools that you lift on your wrist
Oh my love, oh my love
Take this waltz, take this waltz
It’s yours now, it’s all that there isLove to JCD
take this waltz
-
53 mayday, May day!
Todays loss: one sock (used) and one piece of female hygiene product (not used). I lost them in gyms’ changingroom. Really struggling to understand where to one can lose such items. But I succeeded! They were not on the floor, not in my locker not under the locker, not on the weird fake-leather cubicle that is meant to be sat on. Now, socks I took off and put in to the locker. But the female hygiene product backup I keep inside my bra. That is something I discovered decades ago – the place to properly keep a stash of tampons is inside bra. One or two is enough. Then, when you use them up you just put new one into your bra. That is to avoid the embarassing situation of the tiny things rolling out of my pocket into restaurant chair or floor for your date, or even worse, your boss! to see it. And this is also something I do to avoid this ever weird going-to-toilet-with-your-purse-thing. I don’t get it. Probably because I don’t powder my nose. I keep all my stuff usually inside my tights or inside my bra. Nobody can steal my stuff. So when I went to gym I put one tampon into my bra, so I could change it before going to the spa. When I started to take the tampon there was none. It has never happened before. I looked under the chain of lockers, checked my bag, my shoes even… It will be forever mystery. That means nobody can steal my stuff but I sure can just lose my stuff :). Now, I never blamed anyone but myself, so that just adds to it.
I have trouble with putting up with people. Strangers particularly, as you might know from previous posts. One day I am a star, trotting about smiling to strangers. Next day I have difficulty paying my groceries at real live person at cashiers. That’s a bummer if the shop has no selfservice. Oh, and the stores where the shopassistants follow you like you are a criminal, then jump to your face and ask if she can help me. Hell, no! In this case I just want to know where the exit is. Blody hell. If I am looking for black jeans then believe me I know how they look and I can find them myself. But when I ask the assistant to show me all the bras in size 38G then she is just useless. Because she has pimples instead of breasts. Yes. Shopping in here, peripheria, has been and is difficult and expensive. The whole nation makes up a small to medium size town in USA. The whole country is like few suburbs of New York. And most of it, roughly 70% I guess, is covered with natural settings – forests, bogs, agricultural fields, these sorts of things. You can go hours without meeting anyone. Or even days, if you are not moving a lot.
I don’t think I will ever be comfortable in all female settings. Even any class or lecture or such. Not to mention changing rooms. I very much struggle in the all female changing room facing the bending females. Turning back to people and THEN bending. I mean, if you keep the crack hairy, please, please consider not bending. Please. I can not emphasize enough that this is not pleasing site to see. Believe me. If you are next to me with that Einstein-looking pussycat stuck between your buttocks the chances are everyone sees this, certainly when you bend right under someones eyes. It’s horrible view. And you should not chock unsuspecting people with it. Even if you get turned on by their chocked faces. You should somehow tend this horror. And especially considering that boys up to some 7 years old are coming to all female changing rooms aswell. In this country at least. The chock is not going over still. It takes days.
My garden is in blooms, very nice. Real garden. Not the changing room metaphor garden. This changing room garden is hibernating still, for the last three years :). I am talking about real garden, at my summerhouse. Or cottage. Very nice indeed. I now have spring blooms covering most views, preparing for summer blooms. These will be some small bit of annuals and carload of perennials. The idea is to have spring bulbs ending and succumbing slowly and at the same time the summerblooms and perennials starting. All the way until October or so, finishing off the season with some statuesque trees or bushes with red leaves. I now received my roses from England that I ordered a year ago. What an optimistic thought that must have been. I have no place for them ready :). So thats a bit of a challenge now to visualise where to put each one of them and start digging ground or building a site for them. The point is these roses are growing huge, up to three metres high and they need some support because of that. My initial idea was to have a wedding pavillion where all around are these roses. Now, that pavillion obviously is not yet. I have to find it or build it or weld it. So that’s a new challenge for a week or so.
Off to neverland now, keep my pillow tight,
The Mad Hatter
XOXOX