Thursday, 27 September 2018

"A doll-like quality..."

An oldie of Amalia, but I have so many pics of that surreal creature I think I'll be making some until 2013... <3

Wednesday, 26 September 2018

I saw someone I haven't seen - but plenty thought of in the meanwhile - for a while now. Two years, I think? Someone I was a little bit in love with then and am a little bit in love with still. Granted, I flirt like a combined harvester and we could agree to dissagree that as bad as I was at courtship, she was at being courted. I sent her a DM 'Coffee?' right away from the parking lot, of course to no response. She's probably blocked me on FB. Still, it's the sort of thing I would do. Just dive in. The best part of this encountaer was that she either didn't recognise me right away or momentarily forgot we had a falling out the last time, but her face lit up when our eyes met. Fuck she was beautiful. (She last demanded I take down a photo of hers I put the blog without her permission and I responded I don't need her permission to put my own photos on my own blog) A moment later, when I rounded the aisle and asked: How you doin', shrimp?, she was already embarassed and uncomfortable (me thinks? I never know this social interaction shit) and we exchanged five polite words, then went separate ways. 

Fact is, I was smitten with her instantaneously, seeing her once on a train station. I followed her into the train compartment and gradually started a conversation until for about half a year we talked or wrote almost every day, we went on small trips and had tiny adventures like anime conventions or seaside evenings with casual photo moments, usually with plenty other friends along. I made it no secret I'm attracted to her. Alas, she was the most walled-up adult I could think of, literally actively against having any sort of emotional fun, yet alone any kind of flirtatious interest. 

When you let someone know, in not so many words, that if you had any say in it, you'd cover yourself in their long black hair and never come out, and not allow a day to go by without achieving at least a smile, a kiss, a tear, an orgasm or a poem from them ... It's a 98% chance they'll run away screaming and block you on FB. But I always will.

Tuesday, 25 September 2018

Friday, 21 September 2018

Cute (lovers) talk alert

Because I fucking miss him like crazy, when we are talking on the phone and he no longer wants to talk, he starts saying "Bye! ... Bye? Well, say bye, so we can hang up ..."
    But I don't want to do that, becase I could have him keep the phone on all the time and I'd just listen to him do random stuff around the house and play a game or talk to the dog or whatever. I could listen to him being silent for an hour. So, he needs to trick me. And, because he is talking to a retard, he'll say:
    "What sound does a sheep make?"
    "Yes, bye to you, too! Love you!"
    *end call*


    Works every time. 

Wednesday, 19 September 2018

Saddest fucking tiny story ever

I had a coffee date yestereve and whilst waiting for my company, I veered into a nearest bookstore to pass time and fondle books, as you do. I picked up a teeny tiny book, half illustrated, half a few lines, couldn't have been more than ten pages. I read the whole thing and then started to cry in the middle of the store. The salesman must have thought I was mental.

It's a religious story, but it makes sense, so I will forgive just this one and few others. It's about a woman who is a very bad mother, she just likes to party and whore and teaches none the two boys she has to pray or work or be good men - they leave as soon as they can. She then has another baby, which she hates, because she wants to continue to have a youthful, frivolous life, but the baby dies something like one day old or just after the baptism. Its tiny soul flies around the room like a little bird and up to heaven, but a small niche opens and the tiny soul is told she cannot enter Heaven until she finds ... dunno, something like a bucket full of water which flows upstream or something. She searches forever to find such a stream, asking the sun for help and the moon, but no luck. She then comes upon an old familiar room where an old woman sits, talking to Old Age - the woman says leave, old age, I am not ready for you, I am young, I want to have fun. Old Age says 'what young, look at you. You're old, you squandered your life. Where are your children, your good deeds?' The woman starts to think what she's done and starts to cry, realising she fucked up completely. The tiny soul finally finds an up flowing endless stream and fills the bucket with her mother's tears. Alas, still she cannot enter Heaven. She is told she must sit upon a juniper bush or some such, until it is dry. She finds one but she sits for seven years upon it and it won't dry. One night two old bandits come so cot there. One says 'I was cold last night, I hid in a church and after i burnt all the benches, I put the wooden saints onto the fire as well...' The other says: 'I was hungry last night, broke into a mill, killed the miller and his wife and then the daughters gave me everything I wanted to eat'. From their campfire the juniper bush catches fire yet the bird keeps sitting on it. The two bandits laugh, saying look at the stupid bird, it's burning but it won't leave. The bird cries in agony, how she cannot leave until it dries or she won't get to Heaven. The two bandits start to weep, how there is never going to be any Heaven for them, one an arsonist, the other a murderer, they are irredeemable. The bird then finally flies up from the destroyed bush and asks if after all this suffering, she may now enter, and now she may. The gatekeeper tells her that she never suffered for her own soul, but for the souls of her mother and brothers. 

That is some fucked up shit, man. The dude who wrote these stories ... that is like a tsar of ink. Damn it.

Tuesday, 18 September 2018

Okay, maybe not later in the day. But I did write four short Sandman fuck fictions, so... I'm not being idle is all I'm saying :D Every time G has to go to the emergency room, the very sight of all those poor people there, ill or hurt, kicks the Eros-Tanatos in and we have sex all the time. So I get a lot of material for details. Still working on the 'yandere magnet' snippet of the story. I usually write a lot of details for fun, but for the book I cut the juicy bits out to keep it intense. Well, professional. 
       Haha, there was a very good looking man in the X-ray ward yesterday, with a bike jacket and helmet underneath the gurney; he seemed to have crashed  and broke his shoulders... (Though I did hear the rescuers talking when I walked into the main entrance how some other dude was 'aiming for the big branches, but hit too many of the small ones...' which sounds awfully like either a para-glider or someone jumping off a moving train :D ) He was just being brought out when his wife arrived and told the doctors: you'll be taking him back in there after I'm done with him!.. Leaving, once we were done and G's cast has dried enough for walking, I told her good luck and "Chainsaw the bike in half," to which she responded: Oh, hell yes, I'm on it. 
        Not that bikes aren't hot and pretty men in leather aren't super hot. But this dude rode his bike since for ever and knew everything about them and did everything right and now his wife will be wiping his ass for the next six months until his collar is assembled functionally again. I can totally live without a dude in leather on a powerful machine making sexy sounds when it rolls down the street. Heck, G cracked his heel jumping of a kayak in three feet of water. Ye, okay, so he jumped on a sea urchin and then  off the urchin onto a jagged pointy rock, but he still managed to fuck up the tendon and bone enough to get himself into a fracture infection. That's still two weeks in a cast if he's a good boy and does his rest. You can't really do much other than play video games and bump uglies.

I'm off for a few days to give him some time alone. He usually gets cranky after a few days, feeling caged. The dog is also limping, but I think, I hope she's doing better. She's fully used to running only three paws by now and is annoying fast again. In not time she'll be back to her super noisy mode. Everyone knows she's not on her full game if she departs the building without waking up the entirety of the residence list. 

Here's another sunset pic, just to keep you guys curious about the conditions of my brain :P

PS Oh, hey, they actually sent me the books from my list, to pay for the articles published in the travel section. I wasn't sure they'll do that. They sent five, which is amazing, really. Wohlleben's Forest guide is more informative, I half expected it to be more novel-like, as his secret Lives of trees, but he's unusually feisty and critical, which I actually kinda like ... Harari's Sapiens has been on my list for a while; need only Selfish gene now, from that collection ... Tracks though time is a guide through the archaeology parks of these parts ... Slovenia in extremes is a great book, good photos and descriptions of shit like oldest instrument in the world, tallest trees (which I mentioned in my own book, by the way), deepest mines and so on ... And a funny novel-like bio or satire or how you would describe a man's view on pet owners(hip) and his own family included - The Evolution for breeders of lovers of small animals ... :D Funny boy, that guy.

Sunday, 16 September 2018

I know I'm lagging with all my photos and stories, but I promise I'm being a good girl - I'm writing like crazy, I'm editing like crazy, I am doing menial labour and super long walks like crazy - with and without the dog who is walking on three legs lately and acting very ... well, like she is on her death bed, hardly able to breathe ... unless dad brings the roast to the table or someone is making food or she needs to run away to go steal food from the neighbours, then three legs is more than enough to be fast and quiet. I'll have a short crime story for you later in the day involving a satanically bitchy goat on an idyllic island. Does that sound good? And some more pretty shore pickies. 
And today I've managed to complicate my life by adding two pivotal new characters to the final scene of the turn-over chapter, stating that pagans always lay booby traps in the books they submit to ensure the victory of their master - I just have to find, solve and entirely ignore them. No pressure.

Because, you know, that chapter wasn't already 423 pages long. It needed more tangle noodles. 

Friday, 7 September 2018

Back from the isle of sandstone and goats :D

That was some adorable switching off for a couple of days ... The plan was from Tuesday to Saturday, but I hated the camp when I first saw it and said unless the weather is flawless, I'm going home. The weather was scheduled to be fine until Friday, so, on Friday we both agreed to come back. Of course once we set, it was so sunny and perfect and scheduled to remain so for the next two days, our departure might have saved the season for the entirety of the Adriatic coast. I'm quite behind with my pickies, so, for now, just a preview of weird bugs, dry plants, lots of sunsets and sunrises and the general's delicious dome :D

Monday, 3 September 2018

Saturday, 1 September 2018

Day two, part one: Lake Krn, 1394m

The General has this ungodly habit of sleeping really late - I swear, if I didn't drag him out of the bed every morning, he'd stay passed out until freakin' 8 or something. For postmen - witches (as per Pratchett) and hikers, 8 is noon. You're supposed to have done whatever you were planning on doing that morning by 8. But even though he acts like he's not going to comply, when I say 'you can just stay in, I'll go on my own, be right back', he secretly has no intention on missing out and will begrudgingly tag along, but quietly marvel at the very same sights as I.

So, day two, we got up at dawn, got down to the car, brushed our teeth, changed our socks and headed around the bend into Trenta - the magical realm of steep white rocks and cool green pastures - the realm of all the best folk tales, highland women and men and some of the more curious local Gods, the front-runner of which is the golden-handed, hairy and chthonic Kresnik, the God of midsummer night, smiths and industry, sun and war, a protector and lover, one of the really old ones. I should probably look for his famed cave/smithy at some point and also for the site of our most famous B&W movie about a cunning shepherd boy, Kekec on his surreal adventures. Though not this time. 

First thing we did, we dipped our feet in Soča - the Isonzo river - quite literally. It's so fucking cold that if you put your hand in, it starts to hurt. Some people were bathing and diving in it, but most just sat and basked on the banks, taking in the natural splendor. I imagine diving is only possible if the day is not hot at all, because if your body was pre-heated in the 100 degrees sun and you jumped into a few degrees above freezing water, it'd be the last thing you do.

We made a small run towards the horse-shoe top of the valley - 330° of 2000m mountains round and round, to find a chain of small but very lovely waterfalls and emerald pools, where water and pebbles carved cauldrons into the limestone. 

No idea what this was, but it was cute.
Then we began our ascend. Although the previous day we did not enjoy the climb particularly and were looking for an easy path, this one turned out to be just as much of a drag. Curious, really, because although it was placed inside a nearly vertical wall, it went up zig-zag and was really wide - wide enough for a car, if there wasn't for the rocks and roots and such. Perhaps once, a wild while ago, there was a cart road up, for military purposes. Either way, it was super wide, and really oddly level, but it went on for AGES. Every step you made you had to be careful how you make it. The board said 2 or 3 hours max. After 2 or 3 hours, we began to despair and ask people how we're doing. It would be quite sad if it was just the two of us, but on our way down the day after, almost all of the people we met felt the exact same way. It was a freaking drag! It wouldn't fkng end!

These are called 'možiclji', 'marking little men' and are normally found as road marks, but clearly someone was bored and had too much time on their hands :D

Eventually the path and the cable car line meet, a class of Italian scouts led by a black-skinned old nun in an azure blue habit having stopped there for a break. After that the road crosses the saddle and begins to descend towards the cottage for about 20 minutes. less, because we wanted to outrun the scouts so they wouldn't occupy every cot in the cottage.

The food being very scarce - the first day we brought too little water and now we brought too little food?? - and really expensive, we ate but a little. He ate a sausage (no bread) and I had half a handful of Bolonesse pasta, giving the other half to him. (The morning after I paid 9 euro for two bad coffees and bars of fruit chocolate - that's three times the value they'd have in the Real World. I don't care if things are costly up in the hills, I fully appretiate it takes a lot to get the supplies up, but i've had some of the biggest, best pieces of pie in mountain cottages, and on Velika Planina they give you a sausage with sour kraut in such a massive portion you can hardly eat it - it's damn delicious...)

The General got tucked in, slept while I wrote in my journal, then complained he's nippy, I put room's blankets over him. The bunk beds simple weren't made for two people - the mattresses were too thin and the edges too sharp, so for the rarest occasion we didn't share a pillow. I wanted to shower in the middle of the night, alas. No shower. While he retired early, I wanted to see how far the lake was (between 15 -30 minutes), so as long as there was daylight, I went out to explore the majestic Krn basin - the remains of an old, grindy little glacier that once ruled here. 

There used to be or sometimes are more lakes here, it would seem. And the summits all around seem extremely lovely. Alas, really not in the mood to do any more ascending. What was scheduled as half-a-day plans not only took all days but was beginning to also drain us. 

I was a little irritated to find the Italian scouts not only bathed in the lake, but also set camp right on the shore of it - basically right next to the board saying camping and bathing is strictly forbidden to preserve the delicate natural habitat of the basin, already struggling for the amount of hikers coming through. I contemplated long and hard whether I should mention their crimes to the cottage keeper, but somebody's done it aside me,  because they all slept in the cottage and not a single one of them was in sight the next morning by the lake. 

On my way back, twilight slowly setting in, slowly, I ran into a minute obstacle: the shed which housed the sheep, cows and pigs and had no fence to speak of, allowed for the two pink pigs to come out and graze happily around, on the path. I had no idea exactly how aggressive pink pigs can be - the wild boards will kill you - and sometimes these are as timid as old cats, or they can charge and then what would I do? I had nowhere to run, nothing much to climb within range. I decided to wait until someone else passes, as one does, to see what will happen. But both pigs just slowly returned to their sty and I hurried pass. 

The plan, of course, was to catch the first light as it hits the lake. What I got was 400 shots of fog. I'm not complaining, fog is magic. But it was really fucking foggy. Being really cold, I used my travel blankie as a skirt. It looked stupid, but it is very warm. We circled the lake and then waited for two hours to see if the sun will finally show up. We tried having sex, but as soon as we began making out against a nice rock, a flock of sheep came down a slope and 'baa??!! baaa-ed" at us, which was certainly the cutest boner killer ever. It was cold and everything was wet, but it was most definitely a very TGEVE moment: time stood absolutely still and was not and was going to be and we were not but we could be and it was a standstill of perfection of creation. 

General stood by the lake - I later asked what he was thinking about and he said he honestly can't remember, and I sat about 30m above him on a boulder, just admiring the geology. Two hours went by on their own terms. Eventually we agreed the position we were in is never going to get sunny, and the light that managed to penetrate the misty veil hit the cotton-ball of fog which reacted like a lens, igniting the convex eastern side of it into a curious effect. There was also a moon on the screen, but I'll show you where, later.

Around the summit, on our way back, the light was fantastic, coloring the spruces silver and orange and blazing green, mixed with rivers of clouds and silver-looking grass, covered in dew. I had by then ran out of memory card, trying to get at least some sense of the foggy lake. The General warned we need to be back in the cottage by nine to return the room key, so I couldn't stop and shoot, i had to do it 'in the blind', just running after him, pressing the big button, using a single shot and hoping for the best. (In very sunny weather or if I can't get enough light to see properly, I always use the triple-frame shot, overlit, underlit and middle one, of which at least one should be a good base and the other two would work well as editing fillers.

On the way down we were the cool ones, fast-walking, confident-looking, telling other people nice little lies to keep their spirits up. We went back to the river to get our feet into the water, soothing them a little, washing some of our clothes, because we were starting to run out and stink. We sat on the rocks until the clothes dried.

Next stop: Franja field hospital from WW2.

PS - this is not my photo, it's from Wiki - view of the lake from above....