It’s remarkable how often I find myself in a situation where I need both hands to manipulate something, and I ideally would have a third hand to perform an action. When doing chores around the house, when training the dog, when performing small repairs, when untangling a necklace. I used to fantasise about what kind of cool cybernetic augmentation I would get in the future; elbow lasers, cybernetic eyes, legs with rocket boosters… Now I just want a third arm with a hand on it.
Journal
Herfstbak
My sister has taken on the vibe of a wood witch the last couple of years. She would do well living in a secluded cottage just outside of town, and the villagers stay away from her until one of the village maidens needs to get rid of an unwanted pregnancy, or the village dairy cow is suffering from a malady. Then suddenly they come asking for help. She tends to her garden, and minds her own business.
Recently, she has started decorating her house in preparation for the fall. Candles, pumpkins, wreaths, all in appropriate autumnal colours. One of the things she’s created is a display of leaves, pumpkins, and pinecones, nicely lit up in a display case. My sister is very good at that, decorating things to fit a vibe, and she knocked it out of the park again. She proudly told us that it was just like the autumn boxes that we would create in elementary school.
The autumn box was an assignment we would get in elementary school, where we would be asked to go out and collect beautiful leaves, pinecones, and other assorted plant material that we would then display inside a box-like table, which we would display prominently in class for the remainder of the autumn months. It was all rather pagan, when I reflect on it.
I was very happy when my sister mentioned the autumn box, because I honestly think about that project an average of about once a month, and I thought I was the only one that remembered it so fondly. It’s basically my pumpkin spice.
Langer zonder dan met…
Ik kan me nog herinneren dat ik me besefte dat ik langer met een rijbewijs geleefd had dan zonder. Ik vond dat toen een bizar idee. Zo ook besefte ik me vanmorgen dat mijn broertje vandaag langer zonder dan met mijn moeder geleefd heeft. Ik kan daar gewoon niet helemaal bij. Toen ik hem vroeg hoe dat voor hem was was het (gelukkig) net zo bizar voor hem.
Vandaag is het 17 jaar geleden dat ze is overleden, en ik kan me ieder detail van die dag nog herinneren alsof het vorige week was. Het is nog steeds het allerzwaarste wat ik heb meegemaakt. En ondanks dat het niet zo vaak meer gebeurt, word ik nog steeds wel eens wakker zonder het besef dat ze dood is. Die paar minuten, vlak voordat ik echt wakker ben, zijn erg fijn. In die paar minuten leeft ze nog, is ze bezig in haar tuin, en heb ik nog een vangnet.
Wellicht houdt dat zelf-kwelling op wanneer ik langer leef zonder dan met.
Ocillate
I can’t help but find that I ocillate between a desire for the peaceful seclusion of a forest walk with my dog and the debauchery of a night of abandon in Amsterdam. I can miss both, at the same time; the peace of the rustling of trees and the sound of bumblebees, and the thumping of a bass and chatter of people high on mdma.