#(sort of. not really.)

[beedokart]

And then what Akane actually did in canon: hypnosis.

[feuilletoniste]

PRELIMINARY THOUGHTS: John Mulaney and Bo Burnham need to meet.

I am officially Back Home. I still do not speak French beyond va te faire foutre and pardon mais je ne peux pas vous comprendre. I am very glad I was able to afford to visit for a month though, apart from the scheduled events (the EN concert was great, and despite everything I still love Rammstein, what can I say!) and museum visits and other inane tourist bullshit that I always like to make fun of when I see people doing it here in [redacted]. Also I don’t know why I’m censoring the name of the city--it’s Berlin, obviously--since I mention the fact that Hey I’m From East Berlin every chance I get, because I don’t have a personality beyond This Is My History. I’m not a person who has traits, I’m a person to whom things have happened.

Anyway, enough whining; god forbid I actually provide any blogging on this blog. Also I got a really good job offer so I’m haggling the details of that, which means hopefully I’ll be able to move to an apartment I don’t have to share with the worst people in the world (pro tip, wealthy foreign students make excellent roommates if you want to be able to pay a small percentage of the rent in exchange for telling them basic easily google-able facts about the city you’ve lived in for practically ever, but make sure you have a strong stomach for the incredible stupidity of Americans who think they can apply their own cultural standards to a different country in ways such as striking up conversations with random people outside the club they wanted to see and having to be dragged away lest the police arrest them on suspicion of soliciting prostitution, which is unfortunately something I have actually fucking experienced before when attempting to deal with clueless Americans...!), because for fuck’s sake, I am exhausted of dealing with people who don’t even both to make an attempt to speak German.

This city is still as delightfully hard-assed as ever though. One thing I’ve always loved about Berlin is how the city could not give two shits about the people in it--sometimes I see people talk about how their city (usually New York, or Paris, or something) is connected to its citizens, that one line from “Chicago” about the heart and the pulse of the people being innate within the city itself, but that is Absolutely Not True about Berlin. I love Berlin, and Berlin does not love me back, and that is exactly how I like it. I am doomed to trip over that one chipped stair in Alex for probably the rest of my life, and it is the best place in the entire world. The city does not give a fuck about me and that’s perfect.