Mood: writting my life in a digital paper :-)

Sometimes, thoughts plucked from messy minds, scribbled on scraps of paper, should be scrumpled up and left with the dirty dishes. Especially those scrawled on an empty stomach…

musti.dab

There are still things I want to tell you. Small things, mostly. A plant I finally learned the name of. Something stupid one of my cats did. A sentence I heard on the street that would have made you laugh. A tree somewhere in Berlin carrying fruit, the kind we would have stopped to inspect as if discovering it ourselves. Sometimes something happens and my first thought is still: I have to tell you this. And for one tiny second, you still exist exactly where you used to. Then I remember. There is nowhere to send it anymore.

jcob

This queerling is the most helpful person I’ve ever met. And we met on @collective! We’d been chatting here for some time. When I landed in Toronto, they drove me from the airport to my Airbnb. They invited me to their Thursday vegan potlucks, which was a great way to meet new queers. They offered me an apartment to rent in the house they live in. I lived there all by myself. They helped me navigate Canada. And when I was sick. And many other times. And they drove me to the airport on my last day. I wouldn’t have made it without you. Thanks a billion for everything, @biscuit 🏳️‍🌈🩷

emiliush

One year from today, my book, “Yes, I’m Still Here” comes out. Until then, I’m writing about some of the objects that survived the years inside it, starting with a dog tag I’ve carried through four countries and endless apartments, and a perfume I had to buy twice. Queer people are very good at making ordinary objects impossible to be neutral about. A shirt becomes a person. A perfume becomes a relationship. A song is suddenly banned from the aux for three years. What’s something you kept long after it stopped being just a thing?