Twilight zone

Living in a time zone where most people have there REM sleep, I ‘ m walking around and drinking coffee by the liters. Still wondering in which part of the world i’m in. 

My daily rhythm is totally fucked up. Most of it , was my own fault. Waking up early, lets say in the middle of the night to start working on my plans and design for the future Euralia. It’s easier to work on it when you have a fresh mind then after a 10 hour working day in a heat  where your physical appearance starts to melt.

So the weeks are passing by, in a boring daily rhythm, Waking up between 2 and 3 am, activating the humming computer. Start moving around like a thief in the night, trying not to wake up the sleeping neighbor. 6 am. time to getted prept to go for a ten hour workday and drain the kilos of your body. 6 pm time to sit on the doorstep of my little homestead trying to replenish my shortage of body liquid by rum. Having a cool down in the shower and a meal of cheese with spag bol to close the day.

Once and a while , going bush to work from sunrise to sunset. The time that i was exploring the bush by working in different communities is becoming very rare. Nowadays, i’ m spending my days at the hospital. A job given by the devil himself. Every second something that was made has to be changed or modified. Pipes installed and laid down to change the other day.  Insulation installed and reinstalled, flanges forgotten and missing, bolts not tied up and wrong sizes. Even the engineer of the modern steam machine didn’t know what was happening around him.

In the spare times and dead moments, taking profit of my working environment. Creating steel fonts for my future home. Different sizes, different texture. A word that has a deep meaning . A word of a new future.

And once and a while , the daily chores are broken down. Being woken up by a loud noise in the early evening. A footy match that has nasty consequences. My neighbor was drinking wild turkey and his footy team was losing. Not a good combination. At the end of the game the bottle was also lost. He managed to struggle over the door step. He felt and and his arm get caught on a sharp angle line, leaving a 15 cm deep cut. Bouncing on my door , he tried to wake me up. Thinking the game was still on, i turned around in my sleep, till the donga moved like a little earthquake. Opening the door and seeing laying down with a gap in his arm, wakes you up immediately.

Time to go to the hospital again, but then in night time and for completely another purpose. Sitting down in a hospital room, with a working fellow yelling Why? Why? Why? Not remembering a thing, not even how he managed to get a cut in his arm, is a different way to spend a Saturday night.

But i have to confess, something is changed deep inside me. My mind always dwells off to another place. A farm, a dog , a home. After 7 years living in a home the size of Australia, i feel more like an intimate place , a castle of my own. A place of my own rules and strange behaviors. A world created in my own mind.