Tuesday, 19 September 2017

A bleak day's surreal shoot....

Though my brain is elsewhere, the relentless sound of rain is keeping me grounded....

Monday, 18 September 2017

Meeting of Morpheus and Kay in the ugly garden (when he thinks she is his enemy)

The dark suspicion took shape and the man with red hands stepped forth, carrying a severed head of my husband by the hair, one milky eye focused on me, dead jaw drooping.
The man, the king, the antagonist of the stage and the play he arranged exclusively for me - if you were seeing him arrive from my perspective - generously awaited my opening move, preferably a purge of all sanity.
I sighed. “Ye, almost-Pennywise, a loved-one’s severed head isn’t a personal fear, it is absolutely every person’s nine-kiloton horror. It’s unrealistic and over-the top. But if you want to get Lovecraftian about it … you don’t think the first thing you teach me, back in our day, when we hang, is to differentiate a hallucination from an ascetic wakefulness? Should the blatant overkill not be enough of a giveaway, in case I am drugged or have a head injury and someone is trying to throw me, using my mind against me? You think not insanity or dementia a fantasist’s awful-est joke?”
People screamed ever louder, crawling, just behind the frames, begging me to help them. The realism of it was testing. I rolled my eyes before involuntary, compassionate reaction caused me to frown in unease. “Neup. Being unable to help someone begging you to help them is not a fear, either, it is a concern. Still a generic poke in the blind. Keep going.”
The ground has since become full of leeches making their way to me. Cracks, leaves, it all came black and alive. They got all the way up to my feet and higher, but leeches don’t bite hurtfully and even when they suck on you, gross as it may be, it’s entirely painless. Messy, to be sure, even itchy further on, annoying. My skin crawled, memories urging me to stomp and find a chair to climb on, but still it was not as creepy as he tried – he was trying truly hard to find my chink; it will take him another few seconds to look bigger. This was a battle of wits. I’ve been braced for losing such since the evening started. I was wide open. He was tired, so tired.
“Warmer. Not a fear either, more … disgust. Shall we continue down the list of thesaurus, or do we just skip to the part where I’m not easily nightmared-out?
The severed head vanished and he awaited me to finish the sentence politely. The red hand snapped to grab my face and I leapt back so panicky, betraying the act, my back hit the wood-and-paper wall behind us and more light stabbed through, sharpening his frightful features.
He came right back at me for the Stephen King remark, shutting my running mouth, evil as a winter wind: “Beep beep, Richie.”
            I shivered and breathed in chokes, his fingertips scanned the general shape of me, I could feel my own coffee breath coming off them. He touched not the hairs of my cheek but the hairs on the microscopic things on it. Suppressing a chuckle, he complimented: “Good speech. I’ve heard better,” in a voice of a childhood fear luring you from the path into a forest; in a tone which only every mocked and belittled all ye little bluffers. “And in case you haven’t yet put those two on top of your affray with irony: fear of fear is called phobophobia.”

Saturday, 16 September 2017

Muzej vojaške zgodovine Pivka (pt. 1)

As per usual, whenever we drive home from that direction, the General and I stop in the Military Museum in Pivka, our biggest military museum - the biggest at least collection of actual big stuff, though I also enjoyed the photo exhibition of the one in Maribor and Celje has a spooky one, and I am sure Ljubljana has some good stuff, but I don't remember the details right this second... The most fucked up shit is of course going to be found in the expo in Kobarid - the site of Isonzo River battles of the Great Big One #1 - war to End all Wars - and if you're a praying man, that place will never stop being haunted by the hundreds of thousands of voices silenced for the most retarded reasons. (Impossibly bad leaders, mustard gas turning back on their own, avalanches, so on... As an illustration: the Italians had such a shit commander, that when Vinny R. describes his assault with a band of soldiers on the Spindle (Kolovrat) hill, the Italians in caves just keep surrendering, in one case even tearing their own officer to pieces when he tries to resist. It got THAT crappy.) 

But of course taking the General to a military museum is like taking me blindfolded through a chocolate degustation or (not blindfolded) a bookstore: he either knows everything and is excited like a pilot getting a licence to take off, or he finds an error in the exhibition and is simply furious :D 


They built this adorable little tank outside of wood and ivy :D <3

But first, of course, a proper meal: Yugo Burgers for all!

Toy tanks <3 I should probably try and buy a model-making set for G one of these days.

Picture of a Stone Age encampment site

Model of Slovenian war for Independence greatest hits

Well done walls of the Parachute/Pilots expo

Back to basics

A selfie :D
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These spook the fuck out of me. For MANY fictitious reasons - too many movies, too many shows with these in... :/

A day in nature: let's have a picnic and pose on the wreck of a fighter plane

The piece about how women of the region where things fell down, make use of the material: parachute silk was for undergarments, the metal was for cooking appliances... My dad has a story in which an ambulance was abandoned (though not without a body) in his village and people dismantled it within a night.

Recently a farmer dug up a 250 kg bomb such as this one and wheelbarrowed it to his yard with his kids. All of our bomb squad force was needed to safely remove it and detonate it, before it erased the village from the map.

Guess which one of the people on this photo is later to become a big military name ...

The Independence War photo (good stuff, well done!)

People rushing to place a new name of the country on the border crossing during the conflict

The president facing his new army

And Austrian diabetic man asking to be able to cross


.. end of part one.

Friday, 15 September 2017

Fog, fire, blood and glitter :P

Thursday, 14 September 2017

A bit of an Noir shoot ...

No shrooms :/

Not THE most sucesfull mushroom hunt, from a mushroom-search perspective, but the morning was so pretty it took me 2 hours for a half hour drive, as I kept pulling over for Kodak moments :D #Kozjansko is beyond magical. I go into total Snufkin mode most times I see its glory: just sit down, smoke my pipe (well, okay, take photos), marvel at creation and feel tremendous gratitude for being alive. Maybe write a dirty poem. Optional. But certainly find the dog. Stupid dog. Stop picking fight with salamanders, you'll lose!
PS Aprile found two perfect chanterelles. Fuck mushrooms.