Some new stuff soon to be ready ... :) Glimmer glamour shimmer shammer

Found old farm ruins

... while the boys were fixing a boar-plowed meadow, I rummaged around the woods and found this old farmstead, abandoned after a fire. Back in the day, in school, we were encouraged to sketch out the layout, the interesting details, try to guess who lived here, what did they do, what happened, why was the place not restored ... The main building was too damaged and overgrown to measure (if you didn't have the measuring tape, you were supposed to kind of use your feet one in front of another to get the basic distances), but the secondary domicile was padlocked and better preserved. Still, 30 years in this climate is too long for any building to remain once the vines take off the roof and the roof gives. 

Bars on the windows were slightly decorative. Both the fact there were bars and that they were nice indicates better off housing. 

I don't know yet what this was, some kind of strain or press, either for carpenter work or making barrels? 

Melted bottles indicate fire. You see them often in ruins.

The second building.

A very nice door on the second building.

Remains of the wine press.

Remains of the large barrels (500 liters?)

?

Don't you just hate it when you're getting ready to tell everyone you had to see a dentist about a filling and someone else (a young father of two small kids, no less) says: Ye, my wife's doing fine now, they removed one of her kidneys, but the other one is working just fine...

I mean. It's kinda hard to convince the crowd your week sucked after that one. Being a drama queen is nowhere as easy as people think. 

Eleven in the evening ... it's still a little hard to eat, but the General brought me a small chicken cheeseburger and I snorted that juicy crunchy salad bitch like it's the last cheeseburger in the world.  (Have to cut it up first, but okay. Small steps.) Now the bliss of carbs is washing over me and I am slowly forgetting my cabbage ball hurts. In a few minutes, I will be sleeping next to G, who has a little bit of a cold and is (consequently) snoring like an oversized bumblebee stuck under a plastic bucket. The vibrations are so soothing. He's really warm, too. I sleep with my damaged cheek pressed to his side tummy.

I've mulled through about thirty paints, still about a dozen to go. Sleepy a little and tired a lot. Little bit of morbid thoughts. Probably shouldn't be watching Dead Like Me. :D Wrote a 'if you're reading this, I am dead as fuck' letter to G, but it's just shit he already knows fifty times over.

If there are almost 700 infected people on Diamond Princess and the novel coronavirus has a 2.6% mortality rate on average, how come nobody died? Like, at all? 

Well. So that's root canal.

Now I know.


Fuck me.

Whether it was the half-opened window or the fact the Korant banished the winter over the weekend, but I woke up today to brilliant sunshine and spring birds singing. 

Not sure how familiar the rest of the regions are with the Kurant, he used to be an old god of loud party and screwing, but that is a scary pack of men dressed in an elaborate monster costume, wearing many very large cowbells, jumping and dancing and making a tremendous noise. Their job is to scare winter away. They also scare most of everyone else. 

Alas the costume is too expensive and the effort far too strenuous to go at it half-heartedly, otherwise I would have encouraged the General to join the group long ago. They are erotic as all.

General's cure for fear of dying

I checked the arrangement of pebbles in the mud between us. “He said something good to me the other day. He knows I am so very awfully afraid of dying.”

“But he is a soldier, is he not?”

“Oh, he gets it now, since he knows me. So, I was trying to sugar down the events of … what happened in that midway house when Morphei lost it … My heart could have failed and it would not be the first time Morphei almost separated my self from my body. Either for malicious or annoitive ambition, he would end my myselfness to render me either gone or … someone else. Anyway. Sepp is calm about such things and I could never understand how he could be so despondent – and he's not. He said he is grateful. He said: No amount of days knowing you would be enough. But we had a good run. You had chocolate every day, good sex every day, you read so many poems and you travelled everywhere, sharp pencils and blunt swords. You saved a life. You saw so much art and were asked to make so many decisions. Who, in measure of hand dealt to humans, could have had a better run?..”

“He is strange for a soldier.”

"No, I am really not a nightmare, this really is real ..."

Haha. Another new for me.
In fact, when studying dreams and nocturnal brain dynamics, one of the ways to wake yourself up instantly, as said, was to become aware you are dreaming. This engages the frontal lobe, otherwise unengaged part of the dreaming brain, and janks you awake.
        As per usual these days, while waiting for the dentist to confirm our appointment, I have bad dreams about teeth. In this dream my own was unavailable and a colleague of mine took me to see an alternative - but this woman was rude and cruel and dismissive and would not listen to my priority list (the broken tooth first, as I worry I may damage it further when eating, then the one most hurting and then the rest.) She put that mold thing around the aching one - the mold that hurt impossibly the last time, where the dentist reconstructed the damage from the decrepit crown), and when I was walking home, face numb from the painkiller, I could sense that tooth was so stressed it was coming out. This caused me to tongue it and tongue other parts of the mouth and suddenly, the faster I ran down the VERY long street (one of those London endless ones) more of my dental reconstruction of the previous years was coming undone - finally an iron, rusty flakes of the prosthesis of the top of my mouth with several back teeth attached came undone and beneath it, more flakes of iron fake. Finally I stopped running, my hands full of iron and teeth and said: what the fuck is this, is this a nightmare?

And, I kid you not, the nightmare itself began to try and gaslight me. No, of course it's not a nightmare, of course it's real. In a voice that clearly stated I caught it overplaying the frustration, caught it with its pants down.
       That has never happened to me before. It was hilarious. An embarrassed nightmare backpedaling on an overkill of a phobia. The dream then lingered a little, for a few minutes, me carrying what remained of my teeth in the palm of my hand, and I wasn't feeling so worried anymore. Rather amused, to be honest.