24 years old. Queer. New York. BA in Gender Studies. Counseling student. Germanophile, writer, reader (see my books here), feminist, runner, writer, lover, Nerdfighter. More about me :) In recovery from an eating disorder & PTSD, living with depression. Trigger warnings always apply, please take gentle care. What's up, babycakes?
if you’re wondering why there is a bookish plastic cow standing in the street, the answer is easy - because the building behind it is a bookshop. I think they take the cow in at night, so it doesn’t catch cold or gets abducted.
and I think the plastic cow was part of a larger art project of some sorts, I have seen others with different decorations elsewhere.
Seen in Rhede, Germany.
btw, the reason that this kind of bookshop still exists is that there are fixed prices for books, so neither amazon nor supermarkets can push the shops out of business.
today: up a bit late (on purpose!). read Proverbs, write poem, pray. chill for a bit. shower, read, and breakfast. class 9:30 - 12. HOME. lunch. pants shopping. :( get interview outfit. this is IMPORTANT even if it sucks. grah. home and de-stress. dinner: grilled macaroni and cheese & tomato soup oh God. 7 pm: Beauty and the Beast musical!!!!!!! (David’s Valentine’s Day gift to me was these tickets)
elytra: the word pinpricking our lips
a walk, a hundred walks
finding a seat amidst the bees
two a.m. in the fields: sparking electric fence
white mare gently tossing her head
and you, quiet.
avoiding enormous snails
(and you cared to hear about them)
our row-boat: your sleeves rolled up
it’s three a.m. now
toes tucked under leg
and the words are dripping off the wall
our lips slurring from tiredness
and still, still, don’t let it end.
other mornings we just Look
not even sure what truth we are sharing
wondering, are we vessels for something greater?
the rain on the boat when everyone else went inside.
the concert, blurred rainbows above
the smell of rosemary on my hands
the arrhythmic bird
simulacrum (an unsatisfactory substitute: anyone but you)
assiduous (working diligently at a task: you and your Kafka)
supine (how we lay beside the church)
the small laugh, the slip of the tongue,
the taken-back words (‘throw him out the window’)
and our attempts
no, we’re not, we’re aliens
guessing the time (your favorite game)
11 pm grass, and we find constellations
you know the names of trees
you know the names of birds
and I tell you stories, names
you give me dinners and midnight cereal
laundry into small hours
holding me up, lay me down in the rain
we agree, this just can’t work anymore
I have to walk back from the concert
now: miles and hours
no more shared laundry rooms
but I will buy you a horse, alien boy
"Sie hat keine Lust mehr auf sich selber."
-Nina Pauer, in Wir haben keine Angst.
(Translation: “She has no more interest in herself.”/”She doesn’t feel like being herself anymore.”/”She doesn’t enjoy her self anymore.”)