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Fröhliche Kriskringlestag! Reposting this from last year, my memories of growing up German in American skin. :) Enjoy!
Originally posted on Von Simeon:
I’ve been to Bremen,Germany several times, mainly on guided school trips depending what was being studied, and a couple of jaunts around with the family unit, but it was the regular all-school trip to der Marktplatz on Kriskringlestag that excited me the most. My first recollection that Tuesday at the Kriskringlemarkt was of the air of happiness. Everyone was out with their families, everyone was smiling, laughing. We were lucky it hadn’t snowed that day, so the air was typical Norddeutschland cool for the year, and it wasn’t uncomfortable to be out. I thought it impressive that the German schoolkids my age weren’t out on a class trip like we were, they were out with their parents. Their parents and grandparents didn’t go to work that day.
I remember grouping in the marktplatz, our instructor offering firm…
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Slow week, huh? Not really trying to work or start anything new, huh? Well, do I have the best time-wasting post for you! :D
Revisiting my last successful and hilarious account of actual Inkpad Notepad app entries, I’m plucking out the most outrageous, spanning last summer to early 2014. Just like last time, I offer poems, quotes, and dialogue with just enough explanation to validate my insanity!
You guys love these raw, visceral displays of vulnerability…
You get the sense I spend most my awake hours perpetually screaming in anger, spewing flames, like that mine shaft in Pennsylvania. What’s the name of that place again? Gotta be somewhere in my notes…
Pertinent to an earlier convo I had today with someone I care for greatly. Works both ways, just like the telephone!
Been there, done that, only wished I looked this good! :)
The first move I made after a long summer road trip was slap my tired carcass onto my bed, face first.
I feel my neck bend the wrong way, my shoulder blades touch, and my feet lift towards the ceiling. I muttered into the sunken space, “This is not where a queen sleeps!”
This shitty lump has been in my life since I was rocking Cross Colors and Benetton to school. I took it from my mother’s house before I moved out here; the bed I got from the divorce was too wide for the U Haul. Granted, I’ve been sleeping on it alone, so I’ve been tolerating it, but now that I have a Significant Other Who Stays The Night Regularly, it’s become clear this mattress set is more a torture zone than a slumber pad.
But then, why stop there? I renewed my lease until 2016, so I figure, we could paint! I’ve been admiring a certain blue this year, and I find cobalt blue to be especially stimulating and powerful, perhaps it’s my new power color? I picked up a sample can at the Home Depot and I think I like what I see:
I read the Penguin Book version of The Epic of Gilgamesh this summer, and I feel inspired to incorporate lapis lazuli, emerald, gold, ruby into my wall design. My eyes are training on lamps, frames, planters, furnishings, that evoke that Sumerian era, focusing on regalia and opulence. I’m calling the bedroom Ishtar’s Throne.
As I await the final cool down of Florida so that I can invest a day in rearranging and painting, I’ll be surfing Pinterest and Etsy and other chick sites for design ideas. You, my dear friend, are very much welcome to provide me your design ideas, forward me pics, or point me in the direction of quality fabrics and carpets that evoke queendom and ancient supernatural power.
And of course, I’ll be posting my progress here! So excited!
Remembering the dark horse…
Originally posted on A R T L▼R K:
On the 7th of October 1849 Edgar Allan Poe died in Baltimore, America. He was one of the world’s most renowned crime and horror writers, credited also with inventing the detective and science fiction genres. Poe was the first Victorian writer who had an ambition to earn a living from writing. Judging by the final outcome of his life, he did manage to do so, yet, despite his exceptional talent, he died in poverty. His dark Gothic tales – to name a few: The Narrative of Arthur Gordon Pym of Nantucket , The Fall of the House of Usher, The Raven – played on the imagination of the early 19th century reader, often revealing complex and disturbing truths about the dealings of a human mind. Most of Poe’s characters either die or descend to madness, which by looking at the course of Poe’s own life seems…
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