five fun facts about me

- i’m really good at shot put and short distance running

- i’m afraid of deep water, harbours, ferries and bridges

- i collect artsy postcards/cut out magazines etc for collages and to look at for inspiration but mostly never use the stuff 

- i appear in this short movie

- last time larping, i used more bandages for real injuries than in time-injuries, including a cut across the knuckles, my own sore feet and someone who apparently lost a tiny part of his finger when he cut himself on a lantern

"For many of these women, the reading experience begins from a place of seething rage. Take Sara Marcus’ initial impression of Jack Kerouac: “I remember putting On the Road down the first time a woman was mentioned. I was just like: ‘Fuck. You.’ I was probably 15 or 16. And over the coming years I realized that it was this canonical work, so I tried to return to it, but every time I was just like, ‘Fuck you.’” Tortorici had a similarly visceral reaction to Charles Bukowski: “I will never forget reading Bukowski’s Post Office and feeling so horrible, the way that the narrator describes the thickness of ugly women’s legs. I think it was the first time I felt like a book that I was trying to identify with rejected me. Though I did absorb it, and of course it made me hate my body or whatever.” Emily Witt turned to masculine texts to access a sexual language that was absent from books about women, but found herself turned off by their take: “many of the great classic coming-of-age novels about the female experience don’t openly discuss sex,” she says in No Regrets. “I read the ones by men instead, until I was like, ‘I cannot read another passage about masturbation. I can’t. It was like a pile of Kleenex.”

This isn’t just about the books. When young women read the hyper-masculine literary canon—what Emily Gould calls the “midcentury misogynists,” staffed with the likes of Roth, Mailer, and Miller—their discomfort is punctuated by the knowledge that their male peers are reading these books, identifying with them, and acting out their perspectives and narratives. These writers are celebrated by the society that we live in, even the one who stabbed his wife. In No Regrets, Elif Bautman talks about reading Henry Miller for the first time because she had a “serious crush” on a guy who said his were “the best books ever,” and that guy’s real-life recommendation exacerbated her distaste for the fictional. When she read Miller, “I felt so alienated by the books, and then thinking about this guy, and it was so hot and summertime … I just wanted to kill myself. … He compared women to soup.”"

ulrike is visiting me to look for a flat before uni starts and i’m showing her all the pros of student life. yesterday, i.e., i gave her dessert before dinner

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i’m giving away like half of my clothes i don’t need anymore (old stuff of mine & some of my family and friends) so if anyone wants nice stuff size women’s m/l (german size) and sometimes men’s xl i guess u can message me or come over if you know me. will give away for free or at small reasonable prizes/shipping costs or trade for a favours you then owe me forever

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