The Mad Hatter

The Mad Hatter

  • 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!

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  • 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 Frost

    Aey, aey, aey, aey
    Take this waltz, take this waltz
    Take this waltz with the clamp on its jaws

    Oh 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 sand

    Aey, 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 sea

    There’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 years

    There’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 snow

    Aey, 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 sea

    And 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 is

    Love 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

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  • 52 enough

    You can’t live with it, you can’t live without it. Guess what it is. It’s death. 

    I took on board one oldie, extremely chubby and old, but very lovely Theodore. He was found in the middle of nowhere in deep countryside with no house nearby for ten kilometres. Nobody claimed him. So the shelter took him in, cleaned up, fed, for some 4 months. Because of his weight – I must say, he obviously was someones “home” cat – the shelter kept him in cage so they could control what he ate. He had special vet controlled food, because they thought he is sick and fat. We went to the shelter two years after our beloved stripy warrior Red Indian did not return home. We waited for him to show up. Two years. He did not return. I hoped for him to return, but I knew he will not come. Last I saw him on July 13th 2017. I know this date because he came to me to say goodbye. He wasn’t old but he knew it’s time for him to go to forest. He came to me, stroke my chin for few times, sat down on terrace and looked into distance. Then looked at me. I called him to come to me. He looked at me with that look. I knew immediately. I know this look from childhood. I have seen it many a times. I then tried to catch him. He looked at me with a certain mix of emotions. I think it’s a mixture of arrogance, wisdom, sadness, certainty, very adult look. And pretty big amout of “I am so sorry that you, my human, are so stupid and think you can catch me now”- look. I knew right then and there that I will never see him again. I was sad that he did not want to stay. But I knew he will go. All my pets have left home to die in the forest. Some of them have said goodbye. I have had some fantastic connections with some animals. I know they go. Some sooner, some way too early. Red Indian went too early. He was just seven years old. 

    Theodore was oldie. We took him in from shelter. They examined him and figured he is somewhere around ten to twelve years old. He was very smart. Very wise. And extremely fat. Which turned out to be not fat. His build was such. I never seen a cat like that. Huge. Huge head, huge short body. When he first walked in his belly was wobbling from side to side, happy face, curious of new adventure. After sitting in cage or four months he kinda had lost his legs work. He looked like limping and I was worried, but I was sure it was temporary because of the cage-time. And I was right. After three or four days he was walking well and eating well. I gave him special diet food, but nothing changed with his weight. Then in few months I figured the shelter was wrong in assuming he was obese. He wasnt. Shelter obviously does not have many well-fed cats to begin with and he certainly was either lost in forest or kicked out in the middle of nowhere, and found quite immediately after that. He was so funny with his totally round belly wobbling from side to side. Immediately knew how to be cat (sorry, I meant the boss inda house), immediately knew the colourful feathers are for him, Immediately knew the peasants have to feed him well, immediately knew time. Time, you ask. Yes, I gave him nice canfood in evenings. At nine sharp. For a week he was pleased. Then, on one evening I had guests over, we chatted away almost until ten in the evening. Half past nine Theodore came with extremely dissapointed face and visibly questioning if I have forgotten my duties. 

    Until the very last day on Earth he knew he had found his forever people. Even if in old age. Better late than never. Everyone took turns to cuddle him, for hours. Just hanging out with him. Lay down together and do nothing. He slept in best spots, on alpaca wool covers. For him, obviously, he figured, and nodded to his peasants. He graciously came when he needed grooming or petting. He had certain worried look on when he had to strike twice – peasant!, you can scratch my belly now! He was so round that when he lifted his hind leg to check the conditions “down there” he just rolled over and felled over :). Hilarious. He was not crumpy, he never had tantrums. But we also gave our best to him. Gave him the best food a cat can have. He had sophisticated taste, that oldie! Today in the morning I laid down on floor with him when he could no more stand up. Kept him warm and whispered his name and fiddled with his fur. Then at 15:16 my Theodore went.  

    He will be in the sunny spot in my garden, watching over the birds and the bees.

    ,

  • 51 how long for spring then

    I just realised few things. Will put them down here one by one and explain a bit.

    I could never live in Poland, or Italy. Or USA. Disasterous amount of people. Disasterous amount of religious people. Disasterous set up of mix of arrogance, stupidity and fakeness. Can you stay calm when people tell you religion is the most important thing on earth, that mysterious guy called Jesus is the basis of all of our lives and every non-christian (and non-religious in general) is lost and will live in hell ever after. Well. Let me tell you. There are people sane yet. People who don’t need to be threatened by furnace of hell in order to behave well and have high morals and just understanding of the world. In fact, it is pretty stupid for religious people to think everyone else is stupid :). In the end, your arrogance will slap you hard in the face when you realise there is no god, no heaven, no nothing. Nothing except your arrogance, suppressing women, fucking altarboys – all YOU, religious people do because – surprise, surprise – you honestly believe one guy 2000+ yrs ago sacrifised himself for your inability to keep you dick in the pants around kids. Same with 99% of all religion. Maybe buddism is normal for normal people. Because yes, religious people are not normal. They are, on the contrary, morally broke and only seek justice for their fucked up thoughts and acts. No atheist needs to be threatened with forever hell to do right. No atheist needs to be pleased or promised of heaven to do right. We have common sense for that. Not a religious persons non stop seeking for reasoning from mighty “god” to do evil. 

    Does not matter really what religion you take – it’s all to cover up evil. Female genital mutilation – I mean… it’s still going on. Fucking altarboys – check. Kids trafficing – check. Suppressing women to wear bedsheets, beaten by men (to death aswell) work for men, birth as many as possible and then become disposable – check, check, check. That’s just plain evil acts hidden behind “religion”, faith, god. In general all religious people are retarded in various levels. What ever you call it. Brainwashed, retarded, mentally challenged. It shows. Not one sane adult person can believe fairytales to such extent. Not one sane person believes in Santa after childhood.

    Pissed off on these fake people hiding behind their god saviour. That is the negative side of travelling. Because when travelling it’s always recommended to go off the so called beaten track. Which means to get the real feeling of any place you go, you should try to blend in to locals. Eat like locals, live like locals, do like locals do. And that also means to avoid the fancy glass towers that are the hotels meant for the rich travellers. I try to sneak to the locals, wander off the tourist-infested places, but then every time you visit a new place you really don’t know yet where is what. 

    They say don’t go to one and the same place more than once. I like the other way around! I love to study the place longer, see it’s changes over the seasons or over the years. I tend to go back to the places I am sure are nice for me. This is why I am going back to the places I call MY. My London, my Malta, my Paris, my Poland. My place. My place is where I know my way around, where is nice and calm, where the people are nice and calm too. 

    Today was snowing again. It’s May. MAY! Came back from a trip to Rome. Rome was hot for us, comparing to the actual snow we have it feels like anywhere else is better life. I like four seasons but hell, winter used to be over by April. I used to go to swim in the sea in April. Now we have snow in May. We are having our usual shitty skiing weather. Sometimes it makes me sad that the weather is changing so radically within just one persons lifetime. I wonder what it will be like in some 20 years, 30 years, or 50 years. If lucky I will see some of it. The cold is the main reason I travel. Obviously to the direction to warmth. I like to travel most in autumn or spring, because then the difference in temperatures is not so extreme as in winter. And therefore the chances of becoming ill during the extreme change of temperature is not so high. I have always caught cold when I travel in winter. Either on the way to some warm country or right when I come back into the freezing cold. It’s funny when you board the plane in Malaysia or Egypt having shorts and flipflops on and then land in the country where is snow up until hips. Then you wait for your luggage… that usually arrives but…… Then you get your suitcases, and when you have some experience you just open one and take out your full wintergear…. and in the waiting hall everyone starts to dress up. It looks like kindergarden pre-lunch garden break, clothers boots, flipflops everywhere!

    I hope it will be warmer soon, not zero Celsius for another two weeks. Anyways, stay warm and cool!

    XOXOX

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  • 50 a jubilee of sorts

    is there such thing like love? 

    How to recognise love? 

    Maybe it’s just lust, or desire, or fancy, or just need. Something you want to be taken care of. Say, fix the mirror, set up light fixtures. Or, in case you are man, fix you some dinner, wash your stuff. You know, do things that annoy you maybe, or, do things to and for someone else to get something in return. I now think I have been using sometimes some people. It’s pretty much what Annie Lennox song states: some of them want to use you, some of them want to abuse you. And some of them want to be used by you. So, it is going on in circles for sure. What you sow is what you get. I used to hang around with my girlfriend because she had home, mother and what seemed to me that time – a healthy relationship with world. I liked going to her moms place even though it seemed to be pretty costly for me. You see, I had car and my friend did not. And her mom lived some 30 minutes drive away. But I didn’t mind that time because I had time, I was ready to trade my time and effort to the good emotions I got from these visits. We first went to shop because her mom had empty fridge always. I am not sure how any adult person here can live without means of transport. Especially when the person lives outside city, literally in forest with nothing near. No shops, no neighbours, no nothing. 

    So we made weeks shopping, loaded it to my car and headed to countryside. Sometimes there were more people, young people, friends of my friend, coming. The table was long and well prepared with various foods, drinks, sweets. I think we actually made all weeks shopping dissapear with one evening. No crumbs left even. But still the emotions that I traded topped the costs. We had blast, laughed, planned, discussed. All the young people had so much experience and stories to tell that I never had. Yet they were mere two to three years younger than me. Sportsmen, masseur, personal trainer, teacher, IT manager, university student, sound technician. And me, with nothing but homelessness, self-taught languages, newborn and dead mother and no job, no income. I was nothing compared to them. They actually did what they loved, got paid for it and lived happily. I was amazed of them having no stress whatsoever. I was stressed with constant worry of what to eat, where to sleep, where to get money to pay for gas, where to put my kid when I go to job interview. And the main question was in fact how to get a job interview. 

    I was just surviving. I had sores on my body from this endless stress. Literally holes on my body. Ulcers I think they are called. Just appeared out of nowhere. 

    Why nobody loves me? Does my cat love me? Is my cat the only one or is he just pretending to love me in order to get the fresh meat every evening? Cats are smart. They do minimum.

    Have I ever been loved? I don’t think so. I see I have been used. They loved being around me, to get some of me. Either financially or just plainly fuck me. Well, that time I loved to get fucked, literally, in the best way. I still would like to, but you see, it turned out to be complex fuck that I had to pay for also. I paid for getting fucked. Now how fucked up is that :). I always thought the transaction is sex vs money, say. But I ended up giving out both sex and money. I was truly getting fucked in many ways. And, initially I liked it. Because I thought that must be love. I liked him a lot. He seemed to like me a lot. Nothing wild. Just wild sex in a wild, on the roadside, in the car, behind the car, on the beach, in bathtub, kitchentable. Well, it was very good. The best probably, if I am honest. And I am. But then, more and more, I realised I am paying for everything – fancy dinners in fancy restaurants, his clothes, petrol for his car, vacations in warm countries, long weekends in London. I even gave him  “pocketmoney” so he could pay back his credits which he claimed he had because of his brother. First I figured, ok, he will be on his feet soon and I don’t have to pay for his stuff anymore. That was not love, that was just stupid of me. I was heading for bankruptcy. Had to run my home, household and on top cover all his costs. Yes, he made a lot – whatever I thought of – travel to a new country or new place in here, build a house, fix a truck, go fishing – he immediately agreed, never thinking even a second. Because it was my costs always. All materials, trips, food, clothes, everything was for me to be paid. I bought buildingmaterials, transport, etc and he set all up and did it. I didn’t mind. But then I ran out of money. I gave my all to him. All I had worked for for twenty years. Myself, my home, my money, my everything. And then I realised he did not put anything in except physical work. You might say thats fair tho! Unfortunately not. Because in addition to paying all, I also put in long hours of physical work on top of daily work that I got paid for. So I worked full time, paid full for all materials, worked another 6-12 hours daily on building the house, paid for his costs 100%. He only worked on the house. Simple math now tells me I gave in this relationship four units, he put in one unit. If I were rich gal I would not mind at all. I was sort of rich until I was not :). And living like a rentier surely comes to fit fast for simple people. Of course he liked travelling and fancy restaurants. Who wouldn’t?! Especially when all costs covered.

    So what I am thinking is that so far people have liked or “loved” me because of money. Mainly. Because the moment I have none they disappear! Some people, men, have liked or loved me because of sex. I love sex. But who doesn’t. But loving sex and loving are not one and the same.

    So have I been loved ever? Nope. Things I did were loved, things I said were loved, the songs I sang, the endless nights filled with laughter were loved. But not me.

    Does it matter? Nope.

    Have I loved someone? I guess not. I love myself. I have loved strawberries, sauna, first snow. My first love was not love, that was just teenagers hot and wet dream. He was hot and did everything right. Then. And then he went to his own wedding straight after spending twenty hours hot, hard and wet in my bed.

    I still love beer, real tomatoes picked from my own garden, sunbathing naked, chockolate melting on my ….. and maybe one day there is someone who would lick it off.

    May there be light, 

    May there be warmth,

    all so that crops will grow 

    all so that love will grow

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  • 49 Chat GPT

    The mighty technology today. Had to try it. Fed it a few questions. I came out stunned. 

    You see I started this whole writing thing some time ago when out of the blue every channel I looked started feeding me the news about Johnny Depp and the court case with chick called Amber. It was coming in to my life from all holes imaginable and not imaginable. It was literally everywhere. Just like that. I never seen a film of Johnny Depp, I have never heard of this Amber gal. Except this once when I won a bet. Don’t know exactly what year it was, but surely somewhere after 2013. There was in some news that the two had found eachother and all was going to be forever after. Now, we had some gathering with friends and we somehow ended up talking American news. We saw the pic of the pair and I said well, I will give it a year, two tops. Had some fun with that because the others bet against me. So, last year I found out I was right and I won that bottle of rum. 

    All this writing came out of me like a therapy. Listening to Leonard Cohen and writing. It helped to ease the horrors I have had in my life. Sort of seeing I am not the worse off. In some cases. Sort of feeling pleased and sad at once knowing I can read people just by watching them. Sad because I don’t understand how not everyone reads people like I do. Yes, not everyone is interesting enough to be reading them. Yes, not everyone shows their real face immediately. Boy, I have a good sample of this high level of deceit possible just last year! When the ruzzians started war in Ukraine I was attacked by my colleagues of twenty years. Yes, you read right. I was attacked by men whom I worked with for roughly twenty years. They are ruzzian men. I am the only woman in this particular field. I am the only native. They don’t speak local official language. They have ruzzian passports, they live here for whole life as they were born here when we were occupied by Soviet Ruzzia. They consider themselves as rescuers. Ruzzians always think they bring freedom. Nobody else thinks they bring freedom. Only pain, suffering, horrors, rape, starvation. Nobody around them had anything good from them. Nothing, never, ever was good. No relationship, no culture, nothing. Ruzzians like to show off how good they are by stealing and presenting it to be their own. Take anythin invented, they copy, poorly. Take cars, take weapons, take planes. They are useless “nation”, as one said. It’s not even nation, it’s noun. There is no nation like that. In childhood we were told not to cheat or steal or you will turn to be ruzzian! Yet they don’t get it. Whole nations, millions of people living in neighbouring countries, curse them to rot in hell. But they don’t get why. I’m sick of this “nation”, this language, this attitude, this arrogance and stupidity. It’s endless. Cut off one idiot, another three occur.

    So to entertain myself I checked how the magic of Chat GPT works. I asked some political questions, some vacation and travel things, random stuff. And then I asked to write a book chapter for a small three years old girl being abused and starved in a small country some decades ago. I did’nt give more info. No names, no food, no torture details.

    I got the answer, the whole chapter, with less than 5 seconds! It’s not much good as I only gave one sentence for it to work with. And that’s not even the point why I’m stunned. Because from all girls’ names in the world it chose this particular name that left me speechless. I copied the work below. I am still wondering how and why it chose this name for the girl. I am stunned still. Avid reader will perhaps know why. Is that a sign? And sign of what then? Nothing worrying in the family there, but I am thinking if there is energy telling me to take the blog further to reach the reason, the person that pushed me to write all this….

    ———————-

    Once upon a time, there was a little girl who was three years old. Her name was Lily. Lily lived in a house with her mommy and daddy. But things were not good in Lily’s house. 

    Lily’s mommy and daddy did not give her enough food to eat. Sometimes, Lily was so hungry that her tummy hurt. And when Lily asked for more food, her mommy and daddy would get angry and yell at her. 

    But that wasn’t the worst part. Lily’s mommy and daddy also hit her a lot. They would use their hands or things like belts to hit her. Sometimes, the hits would hurt so much that Lily would cry and cry. But her mommy and daddy didn’t care. They just kept hitting her.

    Lily didn’t understand why her mommy and daddy were so mean to her. She loved them, but she didn’t understand why they couldn’t be nice to her. She didn’t know how to make things better.

    One day, someone at Lily’s school noticed that something wasn’t quite right. They saw that Lily was very skinny and had marks on her body. They knew that something bad was happening to her. So they called the police.

    When the police came to Lily’s house, they saw how bad things were. They took Lily away from her mommy and daddy and brought her to a safe place where she could get food and medical help.

    Lily was scared at first. She missed her mommy and daddy, even though they didn’t treat her well. But the people at the safe place were very kind to her. They gave her lots of food to eat and took care of her. Lily began to feel better.

    It took a long time for Lily to heal from what had happened to her. But slowly and surely, she started to feel like herself again. She learned that it was okay to ask for help when she needed it. And most importantly, she learned that she deserved to be loved and treated with kindness.

    ———————-

    Ring the bells that still can ring!

    There is a crack in everything – that is how the light gets in!

    Love and all,

    themaddesthattereverseen@gmail.com

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  • 48 spring – sprang – sprung

    Everything turning into a spring. The tiny birds appeared. They sing like mad. Which is good. It’s not pitchdark anymore! Which is good because then I don’t go back to bed after morning coffee. I have been doing this for months now – wake up at 6, run errands in the morning, make breakfast, put on washingmashine and diswasher and! – go back to bed at 9. Love the still warm bed, some sort of magic mattrass I have, climb in and enjoy. Vaguely remember that time in the morning was the best for getting dirty. Now I think I am becoming a virgin again. I am sure it’s possible. Or, I might be the first on Earth to do that. Not complaining though ;). Only pity to waste the talent.

    Was being too early with my celebration of the spring. Because the snow is back. Blizzard actually and minus 20 C at nights. So getting back depressed a bit as there is no sun again. I don’t mind if there is snow if the sun is up also. I counted in January we had some fifteen hours of sunshine total. Whole month! That is probably the main reason people in the norther bits of world are so depressed. It’s blody dark when you wake up and go to work or school or whatever you do… and by the time you get out of office or school – surprise! – it’s dark again! That is also the reason we take the magic pill of vitamin D as its highly recommended by doctors. I would actually make it obligatory because it’s effects are clearly visible. The skin and the mood of a person who is not takind vitamin D pills are grey. Literally both. And within three days of taking the pill the skin gets better and mood is back to normal. The most visible is the exhaustion of people here. Exhausted, tired, moody, sad, just constantly pissed off on everything, all the bad things at once. And being poor is not helping much. Just few days back there was news that we are in the most expensive country in Europe. And the poorest at the same time. Let me tell you – it’s not the news for us. If your income is 700 Euros per month and rent is 450 Euros per month then even firstgrader can understand that the remaining is not very big sum. 

    Tribute to Jeff Beck in London Royal Albert Hall was just announced. That sounds like dream come true. I bet by the time the sales open for public the tickets are all gone. Especially considering the lineup. Lovely idea and glad the biggest supporters have composed themselves so fast after his passing. Can’t be easy. It never is. I was out of order for years after moms’ passing. I wish I could go. I shall try for sure. Always loved London, especially in springtime. I love being anonymous there and the fun part that the chances of anyone speaking my language is one in a million. 

    Or speaking russian. That language today makes me throw up. For obvious reasons. I can’t stand the inborn arrogance and ignorance most of the russians have. We have the touragencies now advertising some trips to Greece or Turkey even adding such line to the ad of some hotelcomplexes: “no russian customers”. Whick means even greek and turkish people have understood the manners of the people from this shithole of a country called Ruzzia and cancelling the orders a clients from there. Because of the complaints submerging not only now after they started war, but looooong before! I have even complained about drunk ruzzians yapping, screaming and beating eachother…. Yes, that is their understanding of vacation. I am struggling even writing the name of the country with capital letter. That has been and is their way of life. The culture they claim they carry. Culture of beating, rape and killing everything they see including babies, with a touch of stealing, robbing. We know this culture for last 80+ years. But somehow they are not able to understand that they are the bad guys. Go figure. I hope they rot alive. The normal ones, as one guy from Moscow said, are mere 20% of all of the people. If russian says it…. then I take it’s true. My own experience is rather similar. In addition to being minority they have one trait that the orcs don’t: they speak/ read/ understand at least one more language hence they can read news that are not produced by ministry of propaganda. And another trait they have: brainwashed propagandist and talking heads hate them. And that is why they keep low. Unfortunately. I hope more normal people will come out though orcs have emptied the prisons and now unfortunately there is again space to imprison the normal ones…. damn. Clever little fuckers them orcs.

    Slava Ukraini!

    Glory to Georgia!

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  • 47 cultural updates

    Now from March on we shall have several exciting events coming up. I have taken on two tickets for the following fascinating events:

    Steve Vai

    Dylan Moran – top G

    Depeche Mode

    Megadeth

    Camouflage

    Scorpions

    Bob Geldof

    Some of these are venues that are open air – like Megadeth obviously, some indoors. Either way it will be a blast each and every one of them. 

    I have not taken yet ticks to Bruce Springsteen, but thinking going to either Amsterdam or London. Or maybe Rome or Paris. Still havent had the feeling of urgent need 😉 and it might be that I end up not going at all. Which I know I will regret.

    Long story short: JD, come to enjoy some fine dine, stroll in town and fab concert as a cherry on top!

    “booking” details: themaddesthattereverseen@gmail.com

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