tavugba zn v

from a distance it looks like a snow-white, fluffy monument to cuteness. get closer and it turns into a winged neighborhood thug that stretches its neck out parallel to the ground and charges at you hissing, a "come here, you" beast that calls all its goose buddies over in a heartbeat and marches on you as a gang. so yes, it looks cute from afar, but the goose's foot tells a different story.

its feathers really are beautiful, so soft. star of the duvet and the pillow, they were even pens once upon a time. but the owner of those feathers is nowhere near as soft. for a goose, "my territory" isn't a boundary, it's a philosophy of life. anyone who sets foot on its pond, its lawn, even the three square meters of dirt it happens to be standing on, is the enemy. that includes the hand that feeds it every day. a goose doesn't know gratitude, it knows title deeds. though if you're the one feeding it, it does know you and love you, because you're on its deed too. back when i kept geese, they even went after the dogs that barked at me. i like to think they were saying "excuse me, brother, you're barking at the guy who feeds us, our big bro, in our neighborhood?"

humanity caught on to this early. legend has it rome was saved from the gauls by the racket the geese made (see: capitoline geese). and today a prison in brazil has retired its dogs and put geese in their place. they patrol between the inner fence and the outer wall, and if anyone tries to escape they wake up the whole valley. on top of that, they're apparently cheaper than dogs and need no training. you don't have to teach a goose anything to make it a guard, it's born that way. and here's the other side of it: you can win a dog over with meat and bones, but a goose is different. even if you feed it, even if you two are close, bother it while it's walking its deed and it'll say "got a problem?" and claw your face. so you can't bribe it. the only things they're loyal to are their deed and their kin.

the best part is how the idea came about. the prison staff got cornered by an angry flock of geese during a barbecue and said "these guys could do the job." so the geese didn't get hired through an interview, they got hired through a raid.

whoever calls someone a "silly goose" has clearly never tried to share a lawn with one.

in short: love it from afar, take its picture, admire its feathers. but don't go near its pond. that pond is not yours.

calm
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angry
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midway through trump's second term, the 2026 us midterms gave him a serious reality check.

democrats took both the house of representatives and the senate, texas included (trump's stronghold). trump congratulated the democrats, blamed his own candidates, and posted on truth social that "i wasn't on the ballot." good lord, the man takes credit for every win and pins every loss on his candidates (man, this sounds familiar from somewhere).

since taking office, he has dragged america into multiple wars and spent tax revenue that should have gone to american citizens on war and on supporting the jews. as a result, fuel and energy prices went up, and his messy decisions pushed the country into an economic crisis. unemployment was already rising because of ai, and his own bad moves made the economy even worse. and it wasn't just the us: what he did affected many other countries too. yes, i think he's learned a good lesson from these elections.

whoever gave me the evil eye, i hope their eye pops out. i woke up one morning and the left and right sides of my face are working differently, my left ear is picking up every sound with a delay, and on top of that my left teeth and tonsil hurt. i'm watching tv and since the sound on the left side arrives late, i hear everything twice. may this never happen to anyone.

dude, i can't even be a little sad without you showing up right away to remind me you exist, you little rascal. whenever i'm down, you're the only one who checks in on me — just to make sure i feel worse. gotta hand it to you

i'm exhausted, in body and in mind. to silence my mind, i push my body under heavy weights until it shakes. my knees ache, my muscles burn, my breath gives out, but i keep pushing, trembling. every now and then, mid-push, my vision goes dark, and when i come to, the weight is already up and my mind has gone quiet...

it takes me five minutes to come back to myself, and in those five minutes i wipe away the sweat stinging my eyes and dry the wetness from my hair.

and again.

change, and changing. aren't they beautiful words? they say a person changes even when standing still, even if they don't want to. even if you don't change yourself, everything around you does. your friends get married, move to other countries and cities, go to prison, or die. in your neighborhood, buildings change owners, old ones get torn down and new ones go up, roads get rerouted, and the shops you always went to change hands or go bankrupt. whatever, you get the idea. somehow, even if you don't change, everything around you does, so you end up out of place and out of step with it all. you yourself haven't changed.

for years i've been looking out the same window, of the same house, in the same neighborhood, and i haven't changed. but i've lived through all of the above. and i ask myself: why haven't i changed, after all that? i still put on my slayer sweatshirt and go work out in the park. the park has changed too, and even its paving stones have been replaced. but i'm so used to my old route that i walk across the grass and keep my own path alive. if you'd come by ten years ago, you'd have found me exactly the same. come to think of it, that slayer sweatshirt has held up pretty well too...

but i want to change. i just don't know where to start.

in the feeble light of a candle,
in the reflection it leaves on the wall,
i see myself, blurred,
a faint, flickering silhouette.
who am i, i do not know,
who i am, i cannot see.
in the dark i could be anything,
but in the light, what could i be,
what might i not be, i do not know.
a lost soul,
a soul in a trembling light,
one day the candle will go out, and then?
one day the dawn will come, and what then?

"fury, rage, intense anger." it runs far deeper than ordinary irritation; it describes a form of anger laced with vengeance, destruction, and the desire to punish.

in the christian tradition it is one of the seven deadly sins.
(see: seven deadly sins)
(see: wrath)
(see: ira / latin equivalent)

john steinbeck's novel the grapes of wrath takes its title from this word.
(see: the grapes of wrath)

---

my first encounter with it was in high school. until that day i didn't know what anger really was — where ordinary frustration ended and this began.

i had finally gotten away from the people who'd kept me under their thumb for years. that day was calm. we were in class. a friend was holding a wooden board, showed it to me, and said: "hit him."

i don't know what happened in that moment. maybe the hatred sitting inside me rose up, or maybe i just remembered everything that had been done to me for years… i'm not sure. even there, in that classroom, the boy who used to choke me, the one who called me stupid, was staring right at me.

first a small punch. then a kick. then another punch.

at some point the mocking laughter in the room went quiet. because what was breaking was either bone or board. the friend holding the board was already pressed flat against the wall, but i wasn't even aware of it. with every hit, he was the one being crushed between the wall and the board.

i've never used drugs in my life, i don't know what it feels like. but what i felt when that board cracked — every vein in me hardening, my bones aching, and at the same time feeling like i held some infinite power — it was unbelievable. my whole body was shaking.

i don't remember what came after clearly.

to save the friend at the wall, the boy who called me stupid stepped in. a classmate tried to pull me back; i grabbed his arm, yanked it forward. by the time he understood that all of my rage had turned toward him, it was too late. i remember pulling his arm hard as he tried to get away. i think that's where it came out of its socket, at that angle.

i still remember the way he looked at me while i was shaking with anger. he was in pain. and i… i wanted to kill him. the hatred was still rising. my heart was burning, my body was burning, my hands were bleeding.

then the only thing i remember is six or seven people grabbing me, trying to hold me still.

a few weeks later i found out: the friend who'd been against the wall had a cracked rib, and was still struggling to breathe. the other boy's arm really had been dislocated.

after that day, for a year and a half, maybe two, no one would be my friend. the loneliness was hard. i regretted what i did, deeply.

but in that moment… in that moment i was unbelievably strong. that was the only thing i felt. power. infinite power…

image heil my paw

crazy news for someone like me who hasn't even finished gta 4 and gta 5 (played 30 mins tops lol): we're old now, bro.
--spoiler--
i know vice city like the back of my hand
--spoiler--

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todo fill later

working so hard for my boss, and so little for myself.

never argue with stupid people, they will drag you down to their level and then beat you with experience.
(see: mark twain)

this saying was told to me by my brigade commander, brigadier general atak. one day, following an incident, he had had an argument with a military personnel. when he summoned me, he was angry. normally, he was a very warm, calm, and knowledgeable person. he told me this saying, and i jotted it down at that moment. i realized then that he had said it solely for it to have an impact on my life — because he said nothing else to me. our meeting ended right after. thank you, commander; thanks to you, i stopped talking to — not just arguing with, but even speaking to — many stupid people."