it always rained around you; we'd try to go inside and it would rain there too
When I was a little girl in Marburg, a swan attacked me by the river one day. I don't know why. I was probably trying to pet it or chase it; maybe I stepped on its nest by accident. Maybe I just came too near. Anyway, swans are attacking things. They don't look as though they would be, but they are. A swan can kick your ass. It came running at me and its wings were spread out, very white, and it was as tall as I was and I didn't know to move away. Its wings were blocking out the world. Then my dad started yelling and he ran between me and the swan, put the arms of his jacket out-- you can fool birds that way, they don't know about clothes. The swan backed off. It thought my father was a six-foot bird with patchy feathers and smooth nylon wings. And there ends that story. It's not all that exciting, truth be told.
My mother says that if my sister and I go to bars in Germany, we should take our brother with us. Like his dick is some kind of magic wand that will protect us from getting hassled by strange men. Like my sister and I can't take care of ourselves, or each other. Sometimes we pretend we're a couple, that might work. I know, more or less, about bars and about alcohol and about creep deflection and about staying reasonably safe in the neon world. My sister-- well, to be honest, she's probably more physically intimidating than my brother. She definitely outweighs him, and she's not a fat girl, just kind of big. She's somebody who looks strong, and I suspect she is. (Not that I think anyone determined to creep would think twice about creeping on account of any of our looks. It doesn't work that way.) I'm not sure what having our brother along would do, I don't think it'd deter anyone from hitting on us just because he's male, my personal experience has never been that having boys in your group when you go out is an effective creep deterrent (no matter who those boys are). Of course, he's welcome to come along if he actually wants to, but it rankles me that mom gives this kind of advice. Stay safe from men by making sure you have a man to look after you.
I got my ears cleaned and stuff today, so now my hearing's almost all back! It was fun. They use a big syringe with a plastic tip and lots of salt water. The process makes a sucking sound, and it feels a little strange but doesn't hurt. Throws off your vestibular sense a little, naturally, but I felt fine once I started walking. There's more to tell. Later.
Thunderstorms. Rain. I have trouble falling asleep. I read. I walk six blocks to a friend's house just to use her trashcan, talk to her cat, tell her the story about my confiscated hawk wing (which I wasn't allowed to have back, but which never did get me in any real trouble either, and Freesia said it was because everybody important liked me, and I'd prefer to think that that's not true, that it was only a matter of sense and fairness, but they put another kid on a Greyhound back to Kentucky for a much more minor breach of rules regarding the possession of things). Listen to her talk about her boyfriend and how she's using pop songs and documentaries to help teach herself French. I am thinking about people far away. It's hot. It's sticky, the air a live thing, the air like Southern air or sea air in high summer. There's an unidentified bug bite on my hipbone, round and red. There's a cigarette burn on my wrist. All things heal. I'm waiting for a letter and I don't mind if it takes a while. Waiting's part of letters the way wrinkled feet are a part of baths.