That went interestingly. It seems the neighbors were having a party and I was speaking to them in correct English and allowed enough voice for them to at least have a thought I was speaking to them. Technically, I was just rehearsing my lines for tomorrow’s celebration and not making an eco protest about the polution, the dameges caused by their cars or their caustic anti-semitism.

We didn’t really have time to discuss this before and I am at about the limit of my internet right here where I am standing. It’s also too bright to see the screen. I meant to tell you what it felt like to be directly under this new apex predator sun. This solstice is the pause. The sun is at her highest exposure and she’s letting us know who she is today tomorrow and the day after. We are talking universal time so this is not about musical timing or nanoseconds or anything so specific. What I am saying is that the sun is hot, my plants are begging and I am getting toasted.

What I wanted to say was something about how nice it was to be instantly warmed by the sun. I jave a cold or the newest covid or some bloody thing that is giving me a bit of a sore throat and that blast of warmth was like healing. And maybe it is healing to be warmed up this much. Maybe this is a healing fire the way that burning wood is a healing fire. Maybe a natural fire cleans you of all your sins and illnesses. Maybe Moses simply saw the sun and understood it to be yet another creation of God just like the bushes that were sparkling amazingly after what was probably an excellent but selfishly eaten mushroom batch. I think the sun likes me as a stand-up comedian.

I did want to be serious. It’s pretty hot and maybe it’s natural to have hot days but it seems really hot. Hot enough to change things For example, I mentioned how many trees have died in the forest. I understand the water situation because I have a well. Last year, in a great panic to try and fight global warming, I did everything I possibly could to save every drop of water I could find. But in the end the well just went dry.

The locals say that the wells go dry, like this is natural. But I question this on several counts. Firstly, if the engineers that dug the wells knew what the groundwater table was, why would they dig wells that would not be deep enough supply the homeowner with enough water to live? Say what you want about the Soviet Union, I find it hard to believe that in a world where love everybody was the rule, they would do that to their own people. I mean, shit. It’s not like we are Ukraine. We kiss ass like we need it here. We have not been burdened, have we?

But looking at this well, or looking inside this well, we can see stains on the walls. These stands are like hieroglyphics. They tell the story of what’s been happening since they dug this well and I know the date because they took the trouble to write it in the concrete. This supports my theory that they did this with love, meaning, at that time they all understood that nobody was going to live here if the water went bad.

We are about a meter low. That’s a fact Jack. My numbers were measured and completely understood about the well both before and after cleaning. This means that when we went in there to clean the well hoping that perhaps a cleaning would be an end to our water problems, we found out that groundwater was groundwater and we are about a meter low from traditional levels. Or, as the weather report told us, historically normal levels.

What does this mean? It means that the sun or the general temperature created by the sun has gotten greater very quickly for very specific reasons while at the same time, this extra heat has stopped normal rainfall patterns. Basically, to mess with the weather means only death and no life. It means that whatever we are doing to fuck with the weather, and if any of you car loveing cocksuckers want to speak right now about how much you need your fucking cars, stop.

So whoop-dee-doo, a couple of hundred dollars and I have a new well and I can water my garden and all my plants are as healthy as you can imagine. Directly next door to me on one side, I have the savages who decided that in order to get my attention, They needed to cut down all of their trees. Why? For the excitement of meeting Elvis himself, I guess. An american? That must mean enough money for a more interesting life or a beautiful gift before the death of their mother! Cetainly I would be happy to play their party for free or even cover the bill for them and all they had to do was cut down all their trees, preventing any shade from falling on their land, and they would have a clever way to get a hook in me.

But why kill everything? In local culture, there is no job available other than killing. Scorched earth to them means their land looks like they have been living their and have been industrius in taking care of it. They didn’t need the frui8t and they didn’t need the fresh air. They just wanted to make a nice picture of lifeless land.

Or in other words, in a fit of hysterical excitement over the chance to meet me, they returned to a perfectly fine derelict house that I had offered to buy from them just to kill everything so that it would appear that they are good people. Suddenly, they became so excited that they really had to do something not to lose this suddenly valuable possession that they had not cared about in 10 years at least.

I actually bought the house because they had not been there in 10 years and it was a beautiful next door house not to worry about at all. No psychotics living there. No killing sprees to suffer, just a pretty blue house with wildly overgrown nature that was absolutely beautiful.

Anyway, when I look at their grass, I see that it’s dead. The grass is dead on that side of the fence. The place where no one takes care of their land and made sure there was no shade to fight this angry sun we so clearly wanted is already burnt and dead by mid-june.

Do we have any Californians out there who would like to speak up about desertification and an epidemic of forest fires? Are there any Californians who might like to take the next step in the argument and somehow rationalize that the pollution we put into the air is the cause of the death of our trees which will be the death of our oxygen and someday we will succeed in choking ourselves to death?

I mean, let’s be fair. David Carradine is a well-known celebrity who became a bit of a degenerate lkate in life. Good for him. But in the end, managed to kill himself practicing auto asphyxiation as a form of sexual satisfaction. This means choking yourself to enhance a moment of sexuality. He did it with a leather belt, which did the job.

Had he been a vegan, he probably would have lived unless he really did want that to be the last pop.

Here, when the police talk to me, they tell me that my reputation is for irony. They recognize me as verbal and understand that talking to me is going to be a challenge that they might not like. Understandable. I’m not a criminal and I do the same thing to everybody. What it amouts to however is a reason not to listen to what I say. And just like with everyone else, they stare at me instead of my work. I find it ironic myself that quiet observance and a practical understanding of things should be ignored and objectified in the hopes of getting the village gentrified.

Yeah, in Belarus they say or at least they used to say что делает? What to do? What can I do? What can we do? Here is the problem but what can we do? We can’t do nothing, which is a very literal English translation of the Russian. This is the mindset. They do not have to listen because they are not responsible and and they are afraid that if they speak, they will go to jail, And because this is the mindset, literally the unwritten code of life here becomes that you have those who agree to a life of passive exploitation and those, like my neighbors on either side, who practice the art of fleecing the flock.

They practice the art of corruption. They practice the art of collusion.

They practice thes arts like making their farts and believe too much in illusions.

That wanted to be a song but it ended up a rhyme. Maybe if I was on Google docs, maybe it would have been.

Either way, my neighbors have just come to the understanding that every word that I am saying is going out on the internet for everyone to read. They understand that I am writing and what I do ends up on the internet. They also understand I speak Russian very well, I have a very long history in the Republic of Belarus and I have been living next to their stench for two fucking years waiting for these fucking malicious psychopath idiots to wake the fuck up and stop destroying my village with their cars and their machines. Let me say this next part even a little louder:

You are ruining my garden and I did not work in the Republic of Belarus for 20 years to have white trash destroy my garden!

There, that was loud enough. And like my father taught me, here, it’s in writing for the whole world to see. Maybe one more…

Mazel tov. Tomorrow is a holiday. Leave today and don’t come back. Just get in your cars and go away.

I am pretty sure they heard me. There was an echo.

Barry Bonds just hit me on the back. Or maybe it was God. Somebody said that maybe that was the longest ball they’ve ever seen hit. I fucking told you I could hit. I told you I knew how to hit.

Anyway, the other reason I’m writing this post is there is this charging hoard of very tall trees which have grown out of the forest because they were ignored for maybe 10 years. This group of trees is making its way aggressively through reproduction onto my land. This place where I make my garden is going to be overwhelmed, if I am lucky, and this is what I want. I want to be overun by the forest.

But right at the front of this charging horde of trees, is the tallest and most majestic Birch. This is the tree I most often refer to when I speak of speaking to the tress. and she does not look so good. In fact, the forst is dying from the low water table. A member of her family was found dead a while ago in the forest. It simply could not stand up anymore. Another tree simply brok in half because it could not draw enough water to feed both sides. And the giant birch herself is drooping .

Ironically or not ironically, I have bushes in my garden that simply have stopped growing their larger bodies and are morphing into different types of species in order to survive. As an example, a cherry plum tree that has been feeding me deliciously since I came here because it receives extra water from the roof of my wood shop. This is an old tree. One of it’s children however has blossomed into something that’s much more of a bush than a tree. They are exactly the same species but this younger one does not have enough water to grow a trunk like it’s mother. The same is also true for almost any plant that went through last year without a watering program. Tehy either just die or they morph into something that requires less water.

What to do? You could say that this is a great opportunity for business. For only a couple of hundred dollars, you can think a well and use your groundwater to water your plants and yes, you have enough water to keep your personal garden under this new Chernoble sun. Let’s go make money, work harder and how the fuck old is Joe Biden?

On the other side of the coin, the disease of not being able to assimilate information, like with all of the other born and bred subjects of the Russian Empire who live around me, is working fine. This means that they cannot see what is right in front of their eyes because it is a badge of strength to fight reality to the death. We have a lot of apple trees which are absolutely normal and come from stock from this region. But either because of the oil from my neighbors, the air pollution from my neighbors or any of the other actions intended to desertify and kill all life on earth, we can’t grow a normal garden with the plants from 10 or 20 years ago because they cannot grow here anymore. It means that this place is kaput. Finished. Dead. Human beings have killed the Earth. Like, if I don’t water, this place is dead and that giant beautiful birch tree is drooping too. It needs water. It’s 100 ft in the air but it’s a plant and it’s dry and it needs water but the water table is a meter low and it doesn’t rain here anymore and the sun’s too fucking hot but no one will get out of their cars.

What am I doing about it? I’m running my water pump over the roots of this new hybrid cherry plum tree and letting the water go down to one of those canals that I dug. The canal leads right into the mouth of the forest and I don’t give a fuck what it costs. I think I’ll run that till the holiday is over. Have a drink baby. The sun is hot and there is no one here but me who is even paying attention. The temperature is going to get hotter. This is the new sun, This sun is our invention. This is the whore sun we have made by prostituting each and every one of our people. This new whore sun is a bitch who doesn’t nurture anything unless it’s willing to be crushed and reborn as some groveling nothing mutant.

Don’t worry. It’s a humble celebration. Nobody will miss work or even talk about it. Don’t worry. The economy is fine here in Belarus.