12 August 2020

chased by demons; Brave noir World, a pirate’s hoard (jm chronicles)

 




my mood has been  ....odd


as the strangeness of recent has heavily hung 


and especially from the past week


sometimes it seems that I have arrived at some alien world and in another time apart from time altogether; people talk about a “new norm” but I don’t think the meaning they first thought that meant is ....what will be what anyone was or has been expecting. And ....I suppose it is just that I can feel these things. It is hard not to absorb the climate of this hardly brave but —is— definitely a most strange new world’s current atmosphere .... as I quietly internalize from a corner within 


For yet, as well, particular to me and .... my life....even so.... more recent old personal matters in my life come to ghoulishly haunt me 


with the same old teeth and claws bared


and I suppose I often must say through the dictionary ....to, I guess, acknowledge through codes what seems to never otherwise get to be expressed overtly; this little voice must stay quiet; always remain .... silent.... unnoticed and unseen 


So inward, as always, I go to retreat....


****


As Jörn has been away a few days now —on one of his usual secret missions



and at first I go to my studio—the old gutted farmhouse but then.... find disturbing things there and.... spend a few days not even knowing what I do



as I don’t really feel in the right mood to paint


Instead I just stare at the pirate in my painting and .... hear that sea 


hear it crashing .... the waves.... and think about the dreams .... like those that first came through; like the sounds of the drumming, the horses hooves beating and trampling the earth


I look up at him and see from the dream


consider him.... and look at the boats on the shore and what else has to go there.... fix the foam and the swords, the shadows .... as I see the scene alive from dream before me; and as always my works have their own life; they tell me what to put, what to write; they speak their own life to me, like I’m just the vehicle, the medium 


I look too at something folded in my hand 


 .... as I have found more strange things like some evidence Jörn has left uncharacteristically around.... 


and so disturbs my contemplation.... 


and as I know I am not meant to ask him questions, 


this one sided double wall, 


only ....I do wish he was more forthcoming


there is so much I wish he would say.... so much about him I want to know ....beyond that stare


and now....


what he has left neatly folded together under a large can of plaster I spotted sticking out as it was wedged in an out of the way wall shelf ....


It is so baffling to me.... 


Which is why, instead, I now find the farmhouse oppressive with whatever mysteries it keeps me from 


I go to the sauna —the separate little shed, that is actually cool because it is well insulated from outside and also because it is without any heating by the wood burning stove because it has been too hot. 


That now makes it seem almost more like an outer space ship or more like a space waiting station, sitting in the backyard, overlooking the forest beyond; especially as the interior, with its minimalist starkness and pale wood ....it stands in dramatic contrast viewing the jungle of trees it presides over


I look at the papers in my hand: one pink, one green and one white ....trying to figure out what he is up to  because—


it is more perplexing receipts .... dated over a week; one seems to be for a shipping cruiser— ? another for jet fuel? and the third—


But I get interrupted by a sudden burst which causes me to start 


and nearly jump out of my skin!


“Why have you had your phone turned off?!!” he nearly shouts this at me


“Jörn! My god, you scared me!” I gasp at him trying to catch my breath as I jump to my feet


He is holding my phone and waving it at me as if to demand an answer 


I notice he’s gotten some sun and he’s wearing his running shoes but his jeans have smears and some mud, or grease, like his shirt


“I’ve been calling you since yesterday—I thought something happened to you!” Now he does shout at me


“Chris started harassing me again,” I turn my back as I explain 


“Chris? Did he come here?” Jörn starts to look around, ”has he been here?”


“No— he’s now in Michigan! ....actually—“ I almost laugh now


“Michigan, I thought you said he lives in New York?” Jörn tries to make sense of what I’m saying 


“ —ha—!” I force a laugh at that, “yes, he’s visiting there —and! Ha! guess who he’s staying with—? You won’t believe this! the other ex! Crazy, right? like— what are the two of them up to—? Right? you know, one Butchers and the other is just Lew-d—Chris started sending me texts at two in the morning Monday night! Two in the morning! a fucking barrage of them! —they didn’t stop! which is why I turned my phone off —you see? This is normal for him; it’s how he gets—he just doesn’t stop, he’s relentless!”


I can hear in Jörn’s voice he’s irritated as he asks me,


“Why don’t you just block him?” 


“Because I don’t trust him, you know? I need to know what he’s up to because —he’s there, you see? and staying where my daughter is—! it’s just madness! Isn’t it? And—you know, I had this feeling— I suspected ....back in May I mean.... you know—that Chris was behind what happened with my daughter —her letter to me— remember? especially when he admitted to me that he had been talking to her— you know? he is like that.... sneaky and manipulating and ....people don’t even realize he’s wrapping them up— he’s a gaslighting professional nightmare....“ but I lose steam exhausted of it then and just suddenly don’t have the energy to go on and stop talking— giving up because .... it’s just not worth it anymore 


yeah.... I stop and give up my tirade defeated .... because it’s done isn’t it? I’m done, anyway— as by now it is a dead horse 


and I won’t beat that dead horse anymore; those 


because ....I think I have finally learned not to give it power, not anymore—especially not to him .... I long ago walked away, didn’t I?  just let it swing there over my head like old broken Christmas lights ....and really there is nothing more to lose, is there? they’ve already taken everything 


“Why don’t you just divorce him already?” Jörn asks me in a tone revealing he is tired of it too


“....yes I am done with it.....I had enough— with all of it actually.... them—! ....all of them....You know.... “ and I say as I think this, “sometimes people just choose to blame others for everything instead of facing their own truths— have you ever noticed that? They look for scapegoats all the time— that is their pattern all their life and —I guess I am tired of taking that role for everyone— finally .... you know, they don’t realize that they are the toxic ones —and not the ones who they accuse others for being —but, whatever.... never mind.... I wasn’t even going to tell you about this garbage but — since you asked so....” 


and then I look down at what I dropped,


“Actually, wait— Jörn, I have a question for you—“ and now I pick up the receipts I dropped, “why are you shipping gold to Sweden?”


But he just stands there looking at me blankly ....


I think a bit surprised. It occurs to me I actually caught him off guard 


“And quite a lot, I must add!” I look again at the receipt


I notice he runs his hand through his hair now as he thinks ....before he reaches for the receipts to grab from me 


and then quickly with a glibness he says,


“I buy gold all the time— sometimes that’s how I get paid —do you think I’d just keep it laying around?”


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