PTSD

I got this really weird PTSD moment yesterday... G was watching TV and one of the channels was re-running a classic show, one  of the cutest comedies series of when we were young: 'Allo 'Allo... It's really funny shit, about this French barkeeper, his loud wife, his mistresses, his cafe and all the people who come in - during the WWII, when Germans are occupying the region. You have Nazis and Gestapo officers being silly and an Italian idiot flirting his helmet off... Everyone is after this lost piece of art, the fallen Madonna with the big Boobies... Resistance and hiding pilots and whatnot. Really, it's funny. I always thought it's super funny. 

It may be a little while before I think so again. Am almost through with Heydrich's biography. There was nothing funny about Gestapo, ever. People have forgotten a little bit about that, but... I couldn't watch a funny little show, I just started to cry and get really angry kids in school have no ideas what a Holocaust is, was, or what to do to make sure that shit never happens again.

Updates :)

I spent yesterday running around, completely euphoric, because I got this nuts idea and it kept buzzing in my head like a hive. I got up too early and decided to grab a local newspaper, the mutt and run uphill (funny how I don't need any rest stops at all when I am excited about something, eh?), to ask my parents what they think. Though mum initially thought i would embarrass myself and dad was for, they both talked one over the other when I was asking their opinion. It's amazing how these are the only two people in creation I can completely understand when they are talking in stereo. I never though I don't write fast enough. Well, an hour later, as much as I had, I had to find the dog, grab the notes and run downhill again, steal the General's car and take the dog home. Drej was waiting for me already and we drove to Tinka's shop - for the first time. As aforementioned, we photographed fewd and then ate most of it and what we could, we took home. So now I am making pickies of amazing fresh pastry WHILE eating it. My life is so dope. I am still euphoric - even if the yesterday idea is slowly and surely starting to rethink things and run away screaming.

This morning I told off a couple of nice nurses in my grandma's retirement home, because she insisted she's in pain and needs to go to the doctor. With my grandma, who was Moses's classmate at some point, you can never really know if she's just in need of attention or actually two days away from greener pastures. But I know that a while back she had a nasty gastritis and they just wrote it off as old age until finally they noticed it's an actual and very curable condition that could happen to anybody. So now I rather see they run some tests and then ignore her. But the fact is, she started the day very depressed and despondent and then we loaded her onto a wheelchair and we rode around town - General called that there has been a report of a super granny speeding and breaking traffic limits all over downtown ... Then we had to wait at the emergency doctor's office for an hour, where I had nice, regular bitching confrontations with people also waiting there... There was this funny moment (My gran was a very loud, strict woman who got things done, always. I always hoped to inherit some of that talent, but this was the first time it happened), when every time the nurse called in another patient, people would just start rushing in, all over. After I told off, very loudly and with very calm, serious words, very civilized, some woman, there was just silence for a while. The next time the nurse called for the next person, nobody dared move and somebody said: isn't it your turn now, please? All it takes for people to start acting like they haven't just gotten off trees is a little bit of my grandma's spirit. 

The young doctor lady checked the blood-works and the sort and said that it was flawless and actually remarkable and explained that the pains are probably also bad backbone, that no, there is no cancer or infection and that gran is in fact in pristine condition. It was something the nurses have explained to gran repeatedly, but now an emergency doctor said it, so it must be true. Gran was a lot more chatty and lively on the way back. I put sunglasses on her and made motorcar sounds when we 'drove' faster. It was actually fun. Now she'll be happy for a little while longer.

Off to make pickies for Tinka now. I gotsta make an interview with her, because I think what she's doing is awesome. Fucking pastry shop. With healthy pastry! And the General doesn't like it, it's not fatty, sweet and large enough for him, so I don't bother explaining anything, I just grin and keep it all for myself. Sucker :D

Fewd photography

Shot the first few pics of Tinka's fresh pastry production ... Gods I hope there's lots more to come, because that shit's amazing! And it's really hard to go back to grocery store chocolate after tasting actual organic products that she manhandles into tastebuds alchemy :D

 

The Klevska portfolio 2015

https://drive.google.com/open?id=0B_miDqu8_vROcEllUGJRSHlqd1E&authuser=0

"Abyss" on TV the other day triggered my Ed Harris phase again. I'm re-watching his movies - The Third Miracle, which I once liked, a long time ago; The Truman Show, which I always like and always remember for the philosophy classes I took in college, regarding intimacy of existence, choices and several people who suffer from the sense of being in a TV show.. Then there's Needful things, which, oddly enough, I have never seen and I still am not going to, because the book was so freaky, (And I really don't like Max Von Sydov); I watched Frontera, which I can't say I fully understood the point of.. and Gone Baby Gone. History of Violence was also on my list, but I saw that a few months ago and have no need for another dosage. I come on and off my fascination with Mortensen.

Spent the morning helping dad in the vineyard - which is in fact a whole-day event, as then we are so tired afterwards there's not much put on that timetable. Gotsta work on the pamphlet tomorrow, and Wednesday is a jog day. I can't seem to get my feet (specifically ankles) to support me in the long run - literally. I just hurts like a bitch. Frustrating, considering the rest of my body is really anxious to get back on track and my lungs are great.

Still reading HHhH. What is the difference between a war and a revolution? The French, when they lost it, slaughtered pretty much everyone they saw fit, even though at the beginning their list was shorter - this is exactly how the removal of certain individuals was for the WWII, which with a little pencil pushing from Heydrich graduated to holocaust. To pull back from the nightmare, I watch Jane the Virgin. It's a delicate balancing act.

Few more pickies from earlier.. Ana and Gea

Fucking up sentimental notions

Leave it to me to completely frek up something important, simply because the concept of time is totally unrelated to my level of attention. This is also a good thing, or so I'm told..

The General and I spent the day working on a political thesis, discussing war crime tribunals and Balcan strategic value, and so on ... Then we spent some time upsetting the bed and napping afterwards and then I returned to my station to read some research. Nothing out of the ordinary. It is how I'd describe any day. Super sunny outside. My phone chimes and the phone company congratulates me for my birthday. I chuckle, joke's on them, my birthday is at the end of august. Dumb kiss-asses...

       The date IS vaguely familiar, though. Hm... Mid April, mid April... What happens in mid April that ought to be of importance to my phone? ... And also, why would the phone company think it's my birthday? It's not even really my phone, I usually get the General's phone when he buys a new one, b

FUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUCKKK MEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!!!!!!!!!

Now I really know how people who auto-goal their own team feel like. 

Minus side to forgetting your husband's birthday: he may care about shit like that. I don't know. He doesn't seem to. But he might.

Plus sides: I am so attentive, horny and crazy about him all the time, there is nothing I could do today to make it special. I kiss him all the time. I buy him cake all the time. I bother him about healthy food all the time. I love him all the time. Sex is always insane. We are not into gifts, because when one wants or needs something, when we get to afford it, we buy it. We could go for a fancy meal, but it wouldn't be special, because we like particular food that isn't very costly and we eat it all the time. Really. There is nothing about our relationship that could be improved upon. Probably, if I had a shitload of spending money, I would buy him something he doesn't need but could use, like... I dunno. A better car. Or something. 

Still. Bloody fucking hellhound.

I think the spring is finally starting, for me. And if the calendar was lying, I'm sleepy all the time, so that's direct proof right there :D I got some new clothes, thin, fieldy, trekking clothes, T-shirts and light windbreakers, I put on sneakers and (I may need a new bag at some point, just saying) it is only a matter of time before I dye my hair back to red. Winter with all it's bleak, monochromatic magic is over, bitches, and the things that intended to bloom have exploded in fireworks one cannot describe with ink, you have to see them to believe them. Indeed, after a long season of dead trees and gray skies, it is difficult to believe how beautiful plants can be. More beautiful than mating season animals, more beautiful than people, more beautiful than poems, even. In the long-term, I favor the non-blooming plants, low and fleshy, but not today. 

Although for some reason photography isn't the frontrunner of my psyche right now, having been passionately overtaken by reading, my book continues to evolve and grow. I stopped being worried I am not writing fast enough or enough at all, because when I am not writing, I am slowly and surely developing the platform of the narrative - a tricky affair in this particular case. 

I was thinking, maybe, to make matters worse on the plot-line (as it is, in tatters, (purposefully!)) I will open the book with another flash-forward-back... As a lure, perhaps, a snare. And because I can. Also, testing the date and location titleheads, to try and make this easier on people who are not so cozy in time traveling... I know this makes no sense. It will ;)
Example.

Cyrenaica, Libya, 24. April, 1941

Paper and Cole's lifedate, 24. April, 2015

General Sepp's lifedate 24. April, 4018

General Sepp's portal

8:30 am

Pass the plains of northern Cyrenaica, between a panzer offensive and an encampment of the African campaign, a small, energetic man stands on his Škoda Superb Kfz, looking though a pair of worn-out binoculars. On his left is his lieutenant, barking orders to their radio operator, orchestrating the tanks. On his right, in the sand, stands a woman wearing capris and good trekking shoes, reading from a large history book with maps and pictures. She is on the phone with a man, sitting on the wall of Tobruk. Their conversation goes mostly like this:

Cole: I said to the left! What is the matter with you? Can't you feel the gales from the sea?

Paper: Left. Wind is coming right over the walls. And give the flank a wider berth, because the sand right here (she points at a map) is like butter.

Rommel: 1' left. Fire! And avoid the southern quadrant's path.
*Boom!*

Cole: Au. Better. (Looks through his binoculars) How many tanks do you have, anyway?
Paper: 400.
Cole: Funny.
Rommel, to his lieutenant, in German: Tell the drivers to make a lot of dust, so as too seem a great crowd.

The woman's husband is in one of the tanks. This is his time portal and he is in deep awe and respect of the German field Marshall. Usually they have tea and talk. The panzer exercise was his wife’s idea. General Seti Sepp SUN is intuitively disinclined to agree to any of her ideas, but he has never operated a panzer Mr III and he also knows that no matter what they do, how much they meddle, they can never change anything in the long run. Their morning exercise is like fisting a river. And anyway, his tank loses the link in the crossfire. General Sepp has been a soldier since he was old enough to pose as cannon fodder. He is doing this because he knows survival is 70% dumb luck.

Cole is doing this because time-hopping WWII makes him feel closer to his brothers.

Paper is doing this because she approves of mass destruction. She's seen enough of history to know that sometimes things get too stale. Also, she really likes Rommel and wants to see him naked at some point.

Rommel knows this is probably a dream. He is an optimist and believes he can still learn something. An exceptional tactician, that man. Strategist … not so much.

Cole: Better! Again! Bring it down a n... *static*

Paper: Hello? ... Whoopsy.

General Sepp, having just returned via faster transport, takes off his completely soaked shirt and comes over. He is a very tall man with very long hair, which is a striking evidence to his temporal dislocation. Unlike the other tank operators, he wore no uniform.
General Sepp: Small, fat, heavy, clumsy, fickle and yet the job gets done. (He kisses his wife on the forehead.) The tanks aren't bad either.
Paper: Hilarious.You killed Cole.
Rommel: Is he going to be alright?
Paper: Cole? He'll be fine. He wouldn't stand on the other side of the field with a target in his hands if he didn't have a knack for cawking it mid playtime.
Rommel: Alright. Then let's wrap it. Call them in. Good job, everyone.

 o . o . o

I incidentally looked at a horoscope while flipping through newspapers yesterday, when the General took me out for coffee. The week previous, in the study group, someone told me to shut the fuck up and that really hurt my feelings. I pretend to be retarded, but I forget that in such a group most people will actually be really dumb. The horoscope then said to be careful - not all people will understand what i am trying to achieve with my behavior. And then, today, I had a dream in which I offered to participate in some cultural research (I like solving tests and doing homework), but in the end the woman (for all intents and purposes in the real world my social equal or not even that), didn't include my efforts, saying I used smileys from time to time and she thought i didn't understand the task and thus - more or less - was to dumb to participate. These were here three minutes of triumph over someone like me. And because I am the kind of a person to encourage abuse and then feel it, the rain came down in the dreams, I felt really bad and really small. The General was on my side, but he had no ammo.

This would be the brain telling me to stop pretending to be a retard, because nobody cares about savants anymore? To get up and demand twice what I expect to be paid, because that is how much I am worth? Heh, yes, but then nobody will hire me at all, because nobody likes to feel like the less clever person in the room. A shitty predicament, really. Here, I'll tell you a number and then the next week I'll tell you what that number really turned out to be. 

 

25 

...I really should just establish a group and start getting the government funding like everybody else.