our little Texas son


“I don’t want to talk about it and I especially don’t want to write this post. My heart has been pulled with needle made of bone threaded with infected sinew. Every time I try to breathe I want to vomit. I can’t eat. I can’t sleep. I can’t even drink anything. My eyes haven’t stopped burning and my cheeks look like I’ve been in a fight with a bear. And this time he isn’t here to comfort me. He isn’t here to take my pain away by crawling into my lap and snoring until I calm down. Basil Flynn, who was the greatest and most wonderful beagle on the planet — that ever has and ever will live, passed on the 27th of September around 5.45pm, in the undying love of Jack and I; covered in hugs, kind words and lots of snuggles.

We were the three stubborn musketeers and we will be till the very end takes us all.

The apartment is like lonesome coffin where I’m trapped today. It was weird not to take him for a walk this morning. It’s strange for the apartment to be empty of snoring and tiny paw steps. I’ve never liked being left alone in silences because that’s when the thoughts try to drown me, so you can imagine how I must be feeling today when the only noise is a lonely dripping from the bathroom and my heart breaking. I can hear every single thump getting weaker.
Im sat where basil and I would always sit. I walk the same halls, but without him at my feet following me from room to room. He’s not coughing anymore. He’s legs won’t struggle to carry him anymore. He isn’t with us anymore. And I can’t bare it. It’s a comfort to know he won’t lose his mind, he didn’t get a chance to not be Basil and that he now can run and eat as much as he wants. But for me breathing hurts. It’s a struggle worse than all others. This little ball of stubborn perfection, our spirit animal and little inconvenience is gone. Animals can often be a burden, anyone who tells you different is a liar. They get in the way, but they are so worth every minute of irritation, frustration and anger; every single moment for grief after they’re gone. We’ve all butted heads, of course we have — just as we’ve had ‘growing pains’ as Jack likes to call it. However, Basil was a burden I would happily carry for the rest of my life. No matter how much shit he could sometimes caused us or cost us. Realistically I couldn’t have carried him much further, he got heavier and heavier in my arms — but I would always have found a way. 

I need him today. I need him tomorrow. And I will need him everyone moment of every day for the rest of my life because he was so much a part of my being, of our lives. He is. I never wanted to live until I met Jack and Basil. The two greatest and most beautiful loves of my life. Sometimes they annoy the crap out of me, just as I annoy them but we’re were and are made for each other.

I don’t where to go from here. I don’t know how to say goodbye to him. It’s just Jack and I against the world now, and it seems a lot more daunting than it did yesterday morning. My heart can’t fathom that the next years of my life — Basil will be gone. He won’t be waiting for me to come home. He won’t kiss me when i’m crying and he won’t be running in the snow or making old man faces at our baby voices. No more falling asleep on the sofa together watching crappy television. No more judging people as the walk by us on our walks because we hate people. No more. . 

Now, it’s just me in this empty apartment desperately waiting for Jack to come home.
With my phone off, my laptop closed and staring into nothing. Tears streaming and pouring from me like sand in a never-ending time glass. My nose is running. I haven’t showered. I smell of sweat from nightmares and I don’t remember when I changed my underwear last.

We stayed with him as long as we possibly could. Till the very end and longer. Our vet said some people like to leave and not be there at all because its hard, or at least leave when they have fallen asleep. Never in this life or any other could I fathom leaving any animal to die alone with strangers. Those who leave — I will never understand you and frankly, I don’t want to. It is utterly unforgivable.
We were always going to be with him to the end. Its the only option. No matter how hard it would be. He deserves that and more for everything he has given us. I would happily have carried him all the way, to wherever ever he was going, myself. 

Leaving him there the candle lit room almost killed me, but if they’d tried to take him from me I would’ve have defended him with every bone of my being. The only way — was to walk away. I’d brought his favorite blanket from home, but we were obviously taking it back with us. Im sure the vets went in as soon as we left, but I desperately searched for them so I could see he wouldn’t be alone for long. I looked back and saw him lying there as Jack closed the door behind us. It took every thing I had in my body not to turn around and run to him. Our little Basil just looked like he was asleep, the deepest sleep I’ve ever seen. His face looked a little heavier than normal and his lip drooped slightly. Basil’s eyes were completely closed, which they rarely ever have been. He would usually be staring at you even if he was snoring/asleep.
I listened for his missing heart beat, he was gone but I couldn’t see it. My head rested on his ribs with my hands on his back and his stomach.
“Please breathe. Don’t leave us here without you,” my heart screamed.
“We’ll be ri
ght behind you buddy,” I whispered.
He didn’t breathe again.
He was gone. 

I still can’t in my mind register that he wasn’t just sleeping. Part of me still believes he’s alive and its terrible, because I don’t know where he is. Where did he go? Why was his nose ice cold already? He can’t be “Was” he is supposed to be with us for so many more years. I never truly believed Basil could die. That little fucker was built like a tank, a very food obsessed cuddly funny little tank. 

We went by Wally-World on the way home to grab a shower curtain, beef jerky and dr.pepper and to put our minds on something worse than losing Basil.  Walmart is good for something. Helping you realize that things can always be Walmart-worse.  I saw a huge bag of peanut butter M&Ms — an old go to. Im depressed and devastated and therefore I am allowed to eat like shit without working it off. So I went on the hunt in the sweet section to find a normal sized bag. I couldn’t find anything smaller and I gave up, ready to give up breathing myself. Ready to have a domestic with myself right there.  As I turned I looked from the candy isle through the suitcases, bathmats and lamps. Silently weeping as I watched Basil come running to me, his big ears flapping, a big smile on his face and his legs carrying him like a feather. My eyes really started to sting. I could still run back to the Vet. I can run very fast. Maybe I can catch him before he gets put in a freezer or wherever else. He might still be warm. Warming him up could probably wake him up. As long as he knows it’s me. 
As I started losing myself I caught Jack’s eye, there he was walking through the rows of cheap furniture. He’d caught me crying in the candy aisle. He started smiling at me; and as I always do when he walks towards me like some kind of Texan Mr.Darcy, I couldn’t help but smile too.
Thank goodness for Jack.

Written on September 28th 2018.


sound of the birds

“I have always been delighted at the prospect of a new day, a fresh try, one more start, with perhaps a bit of magic waiting somewhere behind the morning.” —J.B. Priestley

I’ve started running in the evenings, and taking “mini” nature hikes. Something i haven’t done for almost 6 years — since i lived in the UK. Sitting in the middle of the forest path alone with my mind, watching chipmunks and squirrels beating each other over the size of nuts and listening to the hawk flutter his span in the branches. Walking around the woods with no one but me, with my mane of hair hanging at my elbows, just like it always should be. Sometimes i swear i can hear my ancestors out there telling me to get my ass in gear and do what i was meant to.
Why, I can’t tell you how good its been for my soul.
The dangerous thing is its got me reflecting.

I’ve noticed that some of my blog posts come across a little blue or negative. The thing about me is that i’m not necessarily a sad person, but i am a wondering person. A ponderer. Often my writing gets misconstrued as the negative ramblings of a depressive soul — no. Whilst i’m prone to the emotion on a relatively consistent basis, thats not to say thats all i see. Having said that — let’s get in deeper.

Recently things haven’t been going the way i’d planned, at all — i would say things had gone completely to utter shit but i’m going to look at it as positively as i can. In itself — that for me is a struggle. That wasn’t my road, and i know what its like to walk in the wrong direction only to keep walking. This time i turned my ass 90 degrees and walked some place else. You see i lost my job not long ago… well “lost” and “lost.” Through no fault of my own the job is no more. A job i gave up two other jobs for and i basically got pissed on like some lame ass fire in a barrel, just as i was trying to warm the hands of the poor by my flame. I wont say it ruined my life, because i work to live — i don’t live to work.
But of course i was peeved.
Who wouldn’t be?
Hold up, wait a minute.
Shit happens.

Thanks to Jack, and his magical ways, he pulled me back.
“I fully support you to be creative, thats what makes you happy, you’re good at it — and thats what you should do.”
I swear, if i could “Bottle” his way of being — i’d uncork that bottle and get high on his train of thought.
He really is the dick to my balls.
kidding. 

Life has its challenges, and its not supposed to be easy. I should be thankful for the struggle, and i am — because it means my novels are as well fed as chubby milk cows. Oh my many many unfinished novels. Sometimes i find it so hard to face those hundreds of hours of neglected work. To see all those pages from my soul wasted on a hard drive somewhere waiting for me to finishing them, all stories from places that drain me and break me. But the novels are closure from pain, grief and regrets — i deserve that. Closure, but i don’t need it. Past is past and everything is what it is.
And today was a wonderful day, even though i pulled two ticks out of my leg. See positivity does wonders, no?

They say you should always look on the bright side of life, but thats not what i do. I live in the dark corners of every day. Where the lurkers sit and smoke together watching life roll by. We know what it is to hurt and we don’t play into those new movements everyones singing about, because we know what we do and we wont stop doing it. He or she this and that. Sometimes i think i’m physically incapable of thinking positively. Thats simply not how i’m wired and it makes for some of my best writing. I’m a depressive soul, a poet with a nosebleed and a writer with an anxiety complex. Sometimes i’m just a bastard for no reason, but as i said. It makes for honest work as raw as a bone.
And living with negativity the way i do means that when i see beauty, i see it hard and heavy.
It leaves me breathless like a hefty smack to the chops. And though it may be forgotten and replaced by a negative thought — i can be grateful that i got the chance to see it at all.
That being said. No matter how deeply i disappear into cruelty of my novels or negativity, i have Jack to make me laugh till i fart, and you know what?
Thats the best thing that happens to me all day.
I’m happy lucky to have him to bring me back to where i should be.
“Be creative.”

So a few nights ago i saw this beautiful and frankly, astounding documentary about André René Roussimoff, famously known as Andre The Giant.
And it caught me thinking.
A man with a soul such as his and all he wanted in the end was to live in peace. He started with nothing, and ended with everything — he worked for what he had, but in the end what did he truly want?
To drive around his ranch in North Carolina that reminded him of  his beautiful France over 3000 miles to the east, and be away from photographers, negative people and the pain of memories.
To be truly him.
I tried doing what others do — going out and working 9 to 5 jobs that don’t sit right with me, but you gotta work for your meals.
I’ve wiped asses, i’ve struggled till my knuckles bled and i’ve cried over the stupidity of the many terrible bosses/managers i’ve come across.
But now.
I’m in charge.
*que deep ambient – yet hardcore cinematic music*

Let’s all try to live a little more like André the giant wished he could have.
Savour every quiet moment, the sound of the birds and the walks other people don’t take.
Do what makes you absolutely happy to breathe every morning. Do what makes your chest pump 5 times harder. Do what makes you weep. No one is happy all the time and every feeling you get is an important one.
So i’m going to be creative. I’m going to finish those novels hiding on hard drives, i’m going to publish those poems, i’ll clown around like i was born to do and i’ll be damned — i’m gonna figure out how to bottle Jacks mind and sell it for profit if everything goes tits in a hand basket.

But i will leave you with this.

“Today could be my last night, tonight could be my last night, it doesnt matter. I just keep going..” André.

So what about you? What should you be doing?
Darling, go do it.


🌱

books and tea by candlelight

I’m definitely a a snow baby — i was born in June but i’ve always preferred winter over summer, not that both don’t have their good and bad sides. Well its officially the first of December — the first advent has started and i enjoyed my day by sipping piping hot tea and flicking through and old book handed down to me called ” Dronningens Læge.” Its an old book with old newspaper cutouts from articles about the real story behind the book.  This little spine of pages smells like the magic of the forest and whisper of the wind, and i can’t wait till i have the time to sit down and really focus on the words and the story.
Its on my to read list and its pretty high up there so when i finish “Buffalo Girls” and “Vorherres rævefælde” this might be my next stop on the literary path. However its a matter of how i feel when i finish a book that determines my next step. If i have a book hang over — all betters are off and shit hits the fan. But for now i’ll pretend i’ll read it soon because its a warming thought.

Now, back to the candlelight and hot tea.
A goodnight, i bid thee!

tea

a lousy technical artist

I’m a lousy technical artist, truly. Two out of five of my paintings are visually appealing. I break all the rules, whatever rules there are, when it comes to art. My paintings and sketches aren’t always good and sometimes my subjects are ugly. I can mix colours to get the right results but i’m not always satisfied with my pieces when i’m finished, but thats me in a nut shell. Im a perfectionist which is one of the reasons it takes a long time for products to go up on my etsy, for photographs to be printed — they have to be spot on or they’ll sit in a box/hard drive for the rest of my life.
I stopped drawing a few years ago — which was a shame because i’m actually pretty good at sketching but i’m not so skilled when it comes to the finer details (i’ve started really trying to improve this). However, i always loved painting even if my paintings never satisfied me so i’ve started experimenting again — how good it is for the spirit to do something for no one but yourself ! I highly recommend it.
Today i spent my day painting, sketching and drawing with ink my new favourite medium — indian ink. I was supposed to be working on my novel but i didn’t. Although i also finished a knitted sweater today so i have atleast been productive.
Practice makes perfect. I’m glad i’ve started revisiting old hobbies and interests because i’ve found it makes me a happier person but still a little bit of an asshole.

a lousy technical artist