Je Suis Abandonnée

September 10, 2013

Je suis abandonnée
I cry into the next room
Lying under some sheets
He probably bought at Ikea

French and english scramble through my mind
Neither making sense
Or correctly reaching my tongue
Which is goopy with alcohol

Earlier, it though that
"Why is this happening?"
and "I'm too drunk"
meant no

Just like it thought
that forming flirts
and crawling into his mouth
meant I don't do one night stands anymore

My brain was turning to fluid too
Sloshing around the walls of my skull

Earlier it didn't understand the
equation concerning why clothes come off
until they were gone
along with its strength of will

And after the pain
It forgot how to stay awake
Sliding me into nothingness
Wilst around me unfolded everything

Coming back, it is done

Où sont mes amis?
Ils sont partis
Mais je veux aller chez-moi;
Je suis abandonnée

A Walk Through Aalborg

I made a video, mostly for my parents, to show a common walk I would take through the city (seems as effective as a million pictures to capture the city).

Life to him Brought Music

As part of my creative writing class, my professor gave us the task of "word hoard." What we had to do was pick up a random book, point to a random word at a random page, write down the three words before and after, and write a story in five minutes inspired by the phrase. Then we had to read our stories backwards and pick a backwards phrase to then inspire (and be in) another story or poem. My phrase from a book (which turned out to be "American Psycho," one of only two books I brought to Denmark) was:

"presence became more apparent, and the music"

The backwards phrase I chose from my silly little short story was:

"life to him brought music," or, in it's original forwards form "[the] music brought him to life."

I wrote a poem that I actually quite like:

Harp was his mother's instrument
And his father the violin
Yet young ole' Parker Jr. knew no notes
Cause life to him brought music

There was no need for a guitar
when the strum of feet would do
And who the hell needed a woodwind
to make the air sound nice?

The engines on the street
sputtered some real nice harmony
plus the yaking of the neighbors
served as decent dissonance

Then the quiet of the night
supplied quite the resolution

Parker saw no use for a drumset
when Sally Fisher was around
She made sure his chest
gave him a beat, loud and clear

And so with music in his ears
Parker didn't get
why his parents needed tools
to hear the humming beauty of life.

We watched a guy pull a mattress into the middle of the street with the giant bench, the one with no historical or cultural significance, on it. He tried to light it on fire but then gave up and went back inside, leaving his mattress for whoever wanted it.

I stopped looking out the window but continued to lean on it. Then, he kissed me. The kisses continued, right there by the window. I felt like part of the mural in Winslow, Arizona that's part of the Standin' on a Corner park. Right then and there I felt like a painting hanging over the old, beautiful street. A slice of living art for onlookers who weren't even there.

Bicycle!

I finally own a bike! One of the main reasons I came to Denmark was because it was a very bike friendly country. However, so far it had seemed that I would never actually get to experience this culture. Today, however, I went to the Skalborg Flea Market and found a bike for 100 kroner (about $17)!

I am quite excited. Also, tomorrow I don't have to walk an hour to school. Thank the lord.

A Walk Through the Park

The other day I went to go buy a bike only to find out that the one I was looking into was too big for me. While I was walking to the man's apartment, however, I stumbled upon a park in the middle of the city (it turned out to be Østre Anlæg park). While I didn't have time to fullly appreciate it yesterday, I revisited it today on my classless Thursday. It was perfectly lovely fully equipped with a pond, swans, gardens, playgrounds (that actually looked really fun), and a fountain (which I couldn't get a picture of because there was a creepy guy circling it over and over). After exploring the park, I sat down at a bench next to the pond and read "A Sweatshop Romance" by Abraham Cahan in my American Literature textbook, one of only two books I brought with me to Denmark.

A Poem

could you imagine
a time within the next ten years
where we could see eachother every day
every morning
every night
for like
the forseeable future

-Anonymous