at least i now know how it is to be alive in the first quarter of the twenty-first century

high above the busy and bustling city, a little man lived in a high tower.
made up of a collection of odd objects and half finished constructions, the tower stood alone high in the sky.
each day the little man would wake up, and ask himself ‘well, should we make a little day out of it?’

he’d shuffle through the various tower compartments until he reached a contraption of ropes attached to a twig basket.
the little man pulled the ropes, and the basket went down into the bustling city until the little man could not see it anymore.
he’d keep pulling until the basket came back up again, now filled with an assortment of items.
a loaf of bread, a tub of spicy hummus, a few vegetables, and a little bag of candies.

the man picked up the basket, and then move to the couch.
he’d lay on the couch on his back. after a while, he would then rotate and lay on his side.
and at the appropriate time, lay on his other side. and then over again.

after the day had gone by, the little man would shuffle to his little balcony.
he’d take in the beautiful view of the bustling city, and as the sun set, he’d sing a little song.
“take care of your hippo campus. don’t let it drown in cortisol”
and then, the little man would forget the rest of the song and stare into the distance in peace.

cluelessly wandering about in a misty forest inhabited with abstract nouns

peace be with you
and with me
and my broken brain
and all those things i wanted to do
and how i thought things should have been
peace be

the parable of the good samaritan that was overwhelmed by all the potholes on the way to jericho but had to prioritise their own mental health and walked past another poor person laying on the street

like a colourful bird making a little nest in a burnt out tire on a desolate rainy junkyard

fortunately our children will be too busy with the collapse of human civilisation to be concerning themselves with all this psychoanalysis of their troubles and how it’s all their parents fault

the personality type of a butterfly in a botanical garden

not sure if it was the best thing to do but i decided to lean into my white man confidence

oh you know, just the regular neurodivergent chit chat

sorry, it is a bit of an inside joke, with myself, but i don’t think it’s that funny

intermittent fasting happiness

from my debut ‘not his best work’

day 11.962: 3 scoops of coffee, a carefully timed museum visit, above average sunlight; experienced happiness increased by 16%

It started in the week of my grandmothers funeral. After a long and emotional week, I ended up in the kiosk of the Amsterdam Zuid train station. As I gave the bag of licorice to the cashier, he mumbled a weary ‘yes’ to me, and I quickly paid the €3.

A little fear of starting a new habit grew within me as I opened the bag and placed it into the deep pockets of my winterjacket. Easily accessible by my hand while, in example, biking.

It is about a 15 minutes bike ride from Amsterdam Zuid train station to my home. A bike ride of 4 kilometers with a speed of 16 kilometers per hour for someone with the weight of around 85 kilograms would cost around 125 calories. The bag of licorice of 225 grams would contain 972 calories. All of it was gone by the time I drove around the Stedelijk Museum.

A small comfort came to me as I realised that with this new habit, I would quickly grow a little belly, that would possibly give me 1-2 more weeks of additional living when the nuclear winter would arrive, and all food would be gone.