Here is an anti-romance. Thanks always to the wonderful patrons.
pat re on (dot) com (slash) tom or judy
if you want to join them for a bunch of good stuff.
Here is the script for accessibility:
Everything is Somewhat Repaired: A Meeting on a Starry Night
CW; Creeps, drinking, potential violence.
I was drinking with Si芒n, sat on a bench in Richardplatz. When they went to pee, a man approached me and, pointing to their empty space, asked if he could sit down.
I said my friend was coming back, he walked away. He came back and asked if he could sit right next to me instead, just for a minute, as if he was waiting for someone else. He started telling me how beautiful the night was or something, idk, my german is awful.
When Si芒n came back they said "Time to go?" "Yeah, let's get another drink." My beer was already full.
As we walked away, leaving him in "the beautiful night", Si芒n said what kind of creep forces themselves on women sat on their own at night? And then I realised I was a woman sat on her own at night.
It was the first time I had "passed" in a situation like that. The more straight the dude, the less they expect a trans girl. I heard some trans girls don't like to hang out with queers because queers clock them.
Aesthetically it doesn't bother me to be visibly trans. Trans people are some fine looking people. But I have enough experience to know being visibly trans is not always safe.
When I told some cis girl friends about this, they had all met a bunch of guys like that. a hundred guys like that. I had that distinct feeling of "welcome to womanhood." But really it was different.
It was only a matter of time before he realised i was trans. When the glimmering starlight caught my face at a telling angle, his fragile masculinity got in a tangle and shit kicked off.
28. Juli. Die CDs waren einfach. Bei der Stadtreinigung gibt es zwei Tonnen, eine f眉r die Silberscheiben (mit kreisrundem Einwurfloch im Deckel), und eine f眉r die H眉llen. Also jede CD in die Hand nehmen, aufmachen, Silberscheibe raus und in die linke Tonne, H眉lle in die rechte. Das ging emotionslos, auch wenn es eine Viertelstunde dauerte. Bei jeder CD, die mir wichtig war, konnte ich mir sagen, dass sie immer nur ein paar Sekunden, ein paar Fingerdr眉cke, eine gesprochene Anweisung entfernt ist. Und bei denen, wo ich wei脽, dass das nicht so ist, dachte ich achselzuckend: selber schuld.
Die B眉cher waren schwieriger. Ich musste jeden Karton aufmachen, um zu sehen, ob es ein B眉cherkarton war und wenn ja, ob mein eigener. Auf gar keinen Fall bl盲ttern, auf gar keinen Fall in die Frage verfallen, ob aufheben oder nicht. Wenn ich mich das nur bei einem einzigen Buch frage, ist alles zu sp盲t. Also die Kartons, wieder zu Gewicht reduziert, in den Transporter laden. Das hat durchaus was davon, wie man Tote transportiert mit einer Decke dar眉ber. Zum B眉chertisch am Richardplatz in Neuk枚lln. Der Mitarbeiter, der meine Kartons entgegennimmt, will mal reingucken, aber nach den ersten zwei Kartons (es sind insgesamt siebzehn) ist er schon 眉berzeugt, dass das alles gute und wertvolle B眉cher sind und er nimmt sie alle unbesehen auf seine Sackkarre. Ich darf einfach nicht dr眉ber nachdenken. Nicht dar眉ber, ob irgendwo noch Lesezeichen oder Briefe drin sind. M枚glich ist es. Dann werden sie eben gefunden, so wie man manchmal in alten B眉chern alte Sachen findet. Als der Mitarbeiter danke sagt und tsch眉ss, kommt mir das zu fr眉h, zu schnell, zu unwiderruflich vor. Aber so ist es. Er hat keine Adresse von mir.
I got up early(ish) and set off for some exploring of the German capital; I have been here once before with my graphic design posse, but it was a fleeting visit, and one that didn鈥檛 spend a whole lot of time in Berlin itself. So I was out the door before 10 to right that wrong!
I got quickly connected to Berlin鈥檚 version of a Boris bike - Donkey Republic - not only is the name a-mule-sing, but the colour scheme is right up my str-ass-e (that was funny and clever, dammit!). I headed off an easterly direction, and whizzed by a ton of stuff, with mixed levels of success; Places like Richardplatz and Insel der Jugend (Island of Youth) both struck me as places that would be much more impressive with people and festivities going on - they seemed a little ghost-town-y to me, and while the weather was dry, it was a bit bleak.
On the way to the Island I took a detour through a small park, and I鈥檓 glad I did, because I found possibly the most impressive thing I saw all day - a memorial to Soviet soldiers who died in Berlin during WWII. It is a vast area, both beautiful and poignant with it; the statue above stands at the far end of a lengthy strip lined with weeping birches and various sculptures/engravings. I read the accompanying billboards, which have English, Russian and German translations for visitors; the one I understood was pretty blunt in places about the memorial and the events that it commemorates, which made me wonder how similar the other versions - particularly the German one - were.
I completed my large circuit, taking in the East Side Gallery (the longest remaining strip of the Berlin Wall), Mercedes Benz Arena, and the smallest building with the nerve to call itself a cathedral I鈥檝e ever seen. I don鈥檛 feel like it was a particularly satisfying ticked-off-the-list jaunt, but I covered a lot of ground and got out-and-about on day one, so I call that a win.聽
After all that gallivanting, I actually did some work in the evening! I took my place for my first shift of snooker, featuring Judd Trump v Noppon Saengkham. Trump is world no.1 and snooker鈥檚 current darling, whereas all I could have told you about Mr S prior to tonight is that he hails from Thailand! Having said that, he鈥檚 currently world no.33, so he鈥檚 no slouch. Having said that, he played pretty poorly, and Trump took full advantage to be home-and-hosed before 22:00! I鈥檓 sure this job has some downsides, but I鈥檓 still not sure what they are...