"Nuanced Nostalgia" & (((free PDF)))+(((MIXTAPE)))

*FREE DOWNLOAD: NOSTALGIA by MERCIA CARTARESCU (a Penguin Modern Classic PDF book!) and, a Confessional Letter of my Personal Observations. Embedded Mixtape! 01.11.24

Nov 01, 2024

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Friday - 1 November 2024 - HALLOWEEN WEEKEND, LOVE & LOOSE ENDS..!

Strange/Spooky-Mood Music:

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ECLECTIC MUSIC PICKS -Mixed by Chasey!!

FRIDAY EARLY EVENING - 1 NOVEMBER 2024

Dear Chasers💗

Hello again, this was meant to go out on Halloween (which was yesterday) unlike me who always stays in anyway, I wasn’t really phased by another night at home with the central heating blasting *edit: this was a rare treat, the heat that is, due to ‘special circumstances’ see further down for more detail.* along with some favourite DJ set playing out loud on the TV to drown out some of the street’s volume, as they had what sounded like a band of drummers, fireworks, party-goers and the weirdest sound to hear in the middle of this, (before midnight) were a flock of fucking ‘birds’ squawking. It might have been baby bats, we do get those in the evenings but I don’t know if they make any noise. So far as I’ve ever seen they seem to be quiet. How cool is that to think of bats taking part in the Halloween celebrations vocalising themselves with sounds of breaking glass and in that moment they’re mimicking the local sparrows / pigeons.

Alas, it was a good night (for me) feet up feeling relieved that all those days of dressed up celebrations are finally behind me. Even if I live to see another Halloween - I wouldn’t change a thing about where I was, who I was with and how I have spent it.

I’ve never been one to foster any festivities or adapt a seasonal routine. Decorating my living room with autumnal wreaths, cover plush sofa side cushions (if we had any) with nice orange and red temporary covers. A bunting of pumpkins, plastic spiders or other such extra touches to take part in something like the change of weather is and has always been beyond me. Not saying I am against it, in fact, the opposite. I wish I had been THAT into all of it. I’d have given myself at least 7 more things to look forward to each year that I have lived. I admire those who are so dedicated to the causes of Easter, Halloween, Christmas, New Year, Summer, Winter, Spring… whatever (plus anything I have missed).

I never did or do any of this stuff. I have lived in houses that became home through one thing only (and even the authenticity of that one thing is now, to me, a bit bloody sketchy) my house became a home when it was filled with (grab a sick bag) LOVE>!! I know its a bit of a cop out. I know it is. But, its so true. I was only interested in one ‘commercial holiday’ which was February 14th, Valentines Day. For somebody who doesn’t even allow touch or hugs or anyone standing a bit too close, I call myself a die-hard romantic. I’m quite clearly not. I am just on the constant pursuit for lurrrve (glittery bells, whistles, tinsel & trimmings on it).

BOO! (followed by a who!) MUSINGS.x

In this next section of my ‘letter’ I will be sharing the scary contents of my recent ‘diary/journal’ entries where I am beginning to discover that there is no fucking lurrrve or anything (no friendship, no fuck all, kiss-me-arse or nothing!). If you’d rather ‘swerve all of this shit’ or ‘save if for a rainy day’, you can skip to the end for a much better reading experience, the inspiration for the tone of these entries, and grab a FREE DOWNLOAD of a brilliant book (13 page PDF) which I am reading and think very highly of the writing and the new-to-me author. Thank you for stopping by and I hope you do stay and skim through my thoughts too. They may not be written with the intent to share with anyone else’s eyes but I have shared them with YOU because I appreciate the fire behind yours and hope to add fuel to the flames. If only to ignite in you a little inspiration / imagination. If you were here at least for a second or two, I invite you to send some love (in the form of a heart=like) or even write ‘‘your name upon the wall’’ Thank you! I welcome comments.x

Halloween’s Morning’s Mourning:

I’ve been trying to magnify my conversations and the amount of attention I give out without reciprocation and this is leaving me feeling an unbalance. I have noted my efforts to put love and energy out have had to be amplified to make up for the lack of both things coming in from his side. Our relationship seems to have changed already, it is almost as if I already cease to exist. There is a gap or lack of loving energy coming back to me and if I withdraw there might be nothing left between us.

I must be surplus to requirements. His input and actions are much paler in comparison. He is just another human being who has neither need nor thought to even bother appeasing me. In the dying light, I am the only one here. I am most lonely when I feel the need to retreat from outreach, when I walk away from a blank face and empty space to stop my heart cold calling. He has nothing to say to me. Only how I have no say in his drinking decisions. I just don’t matter. I never did, but I thought that maybe now he would step up to give me credit for the end of life.

I have come to notice that, for him, his life isn’t changing, he has no reason to make any concessions for his own actions. I must insist on stepping away from his protection as a dependent. I am somewhere between hope and despair. He is somewhere between boredom and indifferent and he couldn’t care less. I am surprised by this. He is pursuing his ambition, which is a short-term project of not giving a fuck, gaming and getting blackout drunk. Getting out of his head is a success. I have an idea that this is who he is. He drinks to exist. He doesn’t appear to be troubled as I am, until he has no reasonable method or scheme to enable this reckless, intoxicated behaviour.

I am highly focused on filling these moments with clarification that I matter. They all say after someone dies that ‘they died knowing how much they were loved’. I’m beginning to consider that we die as we were born. I was unwanted and unloved at birth. I shall probably die knowing that nothing ever changed. I have been relying on him for this moment. I thought he would be so much comfort when the scary task of slipping into the abyss of eternal loss of consciousness. All I have to keep my mind intact and feel alive while I last is this dusty old Chromebook and then a little too often but still only occasionally, comes the opportunity, a welcome one rather than obligation, to provide care for our dog.

1 November 2024

Navigating my Nuanced Nostalgia:

It really doesn’t matter how often or how hard I have these critical thoughts, feelings and experiences with and about my partner. At night I love nothing more than climbing over the pair of them (him and the dog) to get to my sliver of a side of bed, propped up next to the wall with the cold radiator. She sleeps at his feet on the outside edge, he sleeps from the edge to almost my side at the wall. They’re usually both soundo (sleeping) when I get in. I love nothing more than crawling underneath the covers next to his warm radiating heat.

His back is a furnace and I get a slight chance to stroke it, hold it and bury my nose, mouth and cheek onto it with a tight squeeze; right before she sleepily creeps up to greet me with half-closed, adorable almond eyes. She slides head down towards my thighs and stretches her legs out like a Spatchcock Chicken, paw pads facing up towards my chin. She melts my heart just by breathing. I swear I am so in love with her my heart warms so much even just as I watch the little cow stretch, cuddle up, yawn and settle down, the blood of love rush boils like oil. I am so in love with my little baby dog.

After her little exhale, I know she will drift back off to sleep. I can still reach him and as long as I don’t try to speak, he will remain angelic and beautiful. Just the smell of him brings me peace. I stay awake as I cling on a little longer. He begins to stir and sweat a bit more, I know my body is making him hotter. He flings the duvet cover over his shoulder and off his entire body. I gather it up behind me to lean on. Keep hold of his corner, ready to pass it back to him in 7 minutes 43 seconds in time for when he attempts to retrieve it, preventing him from grappling and finding my side of the sheets. Many a time he has fucked up the bedding this way and we end up tug of warring over the position of all the sheets. Left to his own devices we do a full 360 spin of the top cover and we are all made to endure 3 minutes of freezing.

I think about how I will miss sharing a bed with him. How his house used to be one of those freezing cold places. Nice and airy, every window and internal door open, letting the light and the February fucking snowfall in! It’s not good entering someones home who you’re not that close to and finding it closed up and stuffy. That’s why I won’t invite nobody to mine. I like to live in a hot environment. We compromise and by compromise I mean- it is always cold, and remains freezing. With or without windows wide open.

We DO still air the house out, and sometimes let some natural daylight in. However, because he won’t always allow any central heating, artificial heaters, anything warm to be switched on; I won’t allow any windows to remain open for longer periods than up to 30 minutes at a time. It is a shit compromise. The better way would be, for me to have my heating blasting and he to have all windows open for as long as he needs. I am nostalgic about the past, where we are now and even the future for him. I joke a bit, He opens up and admits he doesn’t want to think of his life being without me. “What will I do on my own!?!” he chokes. “You’ll open all the fucking windows, it’ll be like living the dream for you. Your best life baby!”

30 October 2024

Heartache on Halloween Eve(?)

I got afraid when riding the tram. Why? because some innocent young teenagers were doing back-flip-spins on the windows and seats opposite to where I was sitting. They were quietly talking amongst themselves, I could hear the boy and girl at the front ‘snogging’ or something that sounded like a hungry horse eating a Polo mint. I had to talk myself down. Reprimand my face for burning like fire. Why am I feeling so afraid? What is it exactly that I am afraid of I asked myself. - It’s being old, its dying. It’s being THIS age. It’s knowing that essence of being teenage will never belong to me again. It’s wishing I had met my life partner whilst I was only those ages. It’s missing the unknown encounters he will have had similar to these boys and girls.

Exciting experiences with girls from his school. I wish he had known me too. We are both the same age. Just one year apart. I was afraid that the racing thuds under my rib cage was NOT anxiety. I wasn’t afraid. I was feeling betrayed by timing, gliding through a phase of rage like lightening hitting a pylon wire in the rain; and all because my heart has sustained itself all my life and this one thing, this one fucking day, this love, this mess, amounts to nothing but a haggard, envious, old ugly, fat and frumpy hag with her back to the moment, he hat pulled so far down on her face her eyelash kept getting caught on the beanie woollen hem. A shady barrier between me and them. Those who the world now belongs to.

Then again, this thudding pain in my chest could have a name. It might be explained on the 5th November 2024. It could be a mild heart attack, palpitations, fear, jealousy, regret, embarrassment for nothing else other than my own appearance and sad age. Am I right!? I knew nothing that day. I just withered while glued to the window beside me, I don’t dare to move in case I accidentally turn to face them. OH fuck! I’d never cope if they saw ME or returned my gaze. Look the state of me, they’d probably take the piss out of me. I’d burn up bad and imagine booting the daft kid out the window through the fucking glass arse out first, if they happened to pass a glance over at me, or god forbid said anything or made ‘a strange face’ subconsciously. These happy young people sharing a public transport journey with me were fucking killing me.

I am not very spiritual but I prayed and prayed that they’d fuck off and get off at the next stop. My GOD must have give the nod. After they’d gone. All I could hear now, was the aftermath of a broken heart. I relaxed. It was all okay. I pulled the beanie off my napper, tugged the neck of my coat up towards my ears. I’m fine. I lied in my mind. It’s nearly Halloween and look at me already terrified to be here in the streets outside disguised as myself.

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