Bon(n) Appetit!

Well, well, well. Look who the carousel threw up. 🙂

 

Today was the Rosenmontag Karneval in Bonn. Although Karneval is celebrated madly in Germany as a whole (like any legally delineated time frame for public debauchery, drunkenness, dressing up in mad outfits, and drowning yourself in sugary treats would/should be), the North Rhine area takes a special fondness to being as certifiably loony as they can be, this time of the year. And naturally, there I was.

A friend of mine lives directly in the path of the Karneval parade. Since I’d missed it last year (and heard it being mentioned as an event of somewhat mythical proportions all year long), I put on my green sequinned hat (think a North Korean general on RuPaul’s drag race) and got myself an overpriced matching bag to boot. Then we parked ourselves on her window ledge, and spent four hours bellowing KAMELLE! at the floats going past.

And what floats there were! Admittedly, they aren’t anything to the scale of the NYC parade monstrosities, but there is a certain class and charm to things here. Marching band after marching went by in admirably matching outfits, loudly clanging brass bands and baton and flag twirlers, ever so often. Every ear-splitting scream aimed in their direction was answered by fistfuls of candy thrown in our direction. There was one extreeeemely retro moment, too, when an elderly ‘officer’ left the main stream and crossed over to where our friend, a dashing, beautiful pirate with a dashing, beautiful pirate duck strapped onto her head, was waving her plasterboard scimitar around. He dropped three bags of candy on her, and tapped his cheek for a kiss in return. She planted one on him, and dumped the booty in our pirate chest/crate (that we filled to the brim at least thrice. And also spilled stray beer over. At least thrice. Eh.)

The afternoon vanished in a rush of faces and floats. Ships went by, trucks went by. Tractors lugged massive wagons behind them, as did absolutely gorgeous Clydesdale horses, looking far more magnificent as they did, naturally. The booty consisted vastly of candy, candy, candy, but there were also gummy animals of every species, cookies, soft cakes, notepads and magnets, rubber ducks shaped with Beethoven’s head on them, stress balls, rubber balls, little pouches, a tulip float that handed out tulips (oo la laaa), and a singularly impressive procession of witches and vampires, that tossed out monster eye marshmallows from a gigantic cauldron.

During this entire time, I succumbed willingly to my Kryptonite- lollipops. The first wave had tossed a few in the window, and I decided to let myself a go a little. It led to an interesting moment later, when a man float going by yelled at me to take the lollipop out. I was completely sure I’d misheard the bizarre request, so I took it out and shouted back at him, ‘Why??’ To which I received a packet of soft cakes thrown at me, before the float went out of sight. Go figure.

Things were pretty wild west in there, though. Some people handed things to you, others slung in your direction with throws that would do Clayton Kershaw proud. Bees handed out honey-flavored chews, a field of sunflowers on legs went by and threw us sunflower seeds (little seed packets, with flowers painted on them!) and every manner of glucose fueled goodies, till my afternoon halted abruptly- I took a candy bar to the eye.

And that. shit. HURT. I was waving at someone to my right when a bar flew in from the left somewhere and caught me smack bang in my wide open left eye. I had a few moments of blinding pain and my eye felt like it was going to explode out of my head. I spent a  good 2-3 minutes doubled over completely shell-shocked and clutching my eye, going ‘my eye, my eye’ repeatedly. Then I hurried to the kitchen and my friend handed me a cold beer to hold against it. And let me tell you, alcohol *does* numb the pain.

A little while later, we headed out through the body of the parade. The only clear way out was to walk between the successive floats, and it was glorious. People were dancing on the sidewalks and occasionally spilling out onto the street. I saw a group of ballerinas hanging out a second-storey window, with MacGyvered upside down Umbrella candy catchers. 4-5 girls dancing in a circle dressed up as milk cartons, which I could not stop laughing about, and a severely impressive Renley Baratheon and company, who I deeply regret not taking pictures with.

Anyhoo, two days of sleeping off the alcohol poisoning from later that night and a bruised eye later, the Karneval has come to a close. I finally had the chance to witness a nationwide descent into madness, and added my own humble, licorice-flavored vodka insult to the liver contribution at the end. And although the binge cost me a day spent recovering in bed, I would not have missed it for the world. Dressed as a black cat and elbow deep in gummy bear treats (with a kick) is the only socially acceptable way to say goodbye and good riddance to the Karneval. So naturally, that’s what I did. When in Germany, do as the Germans do. 😉

 

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Bend

Mornings where there is no seam between the sky and the water, are a blessing.

You allow yourself to be beguiled by the continuity of the horizon. The simple absence of a boundary to the visible world makes the presence of something magical, more palatable. Something magical. Something a little more than the harsh truth of .. sitting there alone.

Which turns into a journey of its own, instead of being plain ol’ fact.

And when the day starts with no limit to the sky, who’s to stop us from trying to fly?

Love,

Yusra

Day Twelve : The Smell of Sunset

The grey canal empties
sluggishly into the backwaters
meandering beyond the third balcony
on the seventh floor. The wind
smells like forgotten fish
and sometimes like jasmine
My neighbour smells like that, too.

Voices carry from the parking lot. Sharp
tones cut through the general clamour of
traffic and jackdaws. My father is flirting
with the cook. She’s repulsed, but she
needs this job. We watch till we can’t.

The ocean is very close, the salt taste
lingers in my room, I can’t resist the urge
to let the ocean into my room
when I’m so close. Every evening I let it
roll onto my tongue.

The water stays murky.

The sky doesn’t care
Colours wash over my face
They smell of sunset

©️Yusra

12.04.2018

I forget sometimes, that there is no end to hate.

I don’t like that word. Hate. It implies weight. It is a burden. It is a two-edged sword that you cut yourself on, when you hold it. Like a snake that’s poisonous from the non-bitey butt end too.

Hate is important. It gives you reason. At the very blind white hot rage edges of sanity, when anger consumes you and your nerves are spitting fire trying to hold your composure, it’s Hate that sustains you, not love. Love comes later, to be sure. But in that moment, hate is very, very important.

My father was talking to a person who’d visited our house for the very first time today. By means of introducing me, he said, “This is my oldest daughter. I’m going to hire a driver for her soon, to take her to a park so that she can run. Look at how fat she is.” The man stared at the ground, embarassed and mumbling that I wasn’t all thaaat fat. I stared at my beast of a father, beyond a boiling fury and yet, completely still. In that moment, I realised that I was always find reason to hate him more. Hate. With a singularity and purity that I only have for one other thing in my life: Love.

I love me. I love this whole utterly fucked, unspeakably glorious and splendid world I live in. I love the sunsets in the third balcony on the seventh floor, even if they reflect prism-like over a brackish and smelly stream. I love my friends who forget me, I love my friends who don’t, I love my battered family units, I love that wonder who holds my heart, I love books and words and music and -me. I love me. Madly so, because they and we and he and I deserve it.

And I hate him. He deserves it.

Day Twelve of NaPoWriMo. I’ve written a Haibun for the prompt, with prose, followed by a Haiku, that briefest of forms I seem to shake hands with only every NaPoWriMo.

Did I forget to say, I love you all too?

And man, do you deserve it!

Fall

Why did He make me from clay?
What did He do to me?
What sort of vessel am I shaped into
To contain these fallacies?
Blinded, blinded, I don’t know my face
The mirror shows me a stranger
But ask me yours, where your smile lies and
I will know all the answers
Who are you, who gave you this
Power, over me, over my sense
Of reality, how did you change
My touch to thought, to impermanence
The sky is raw and the earth bleeding
How did you construct this bent
world, did God destroy me, or did you
-Did you both?

And what was my offence?

I loved you too much by any measure
I knew there was a gaping void
I promised myself, I’d fill the indifference
I’d push hard enough from my side-
and I did, see-
I’m already crazy
A drunk girl laughing at the edge of a cliff
Inching closer to the precipice, and
The howling promises of the wind- If
Only, if only, I could step away
If I could tell myself I mattered, you’ll miss
The scattered moments in your life
where I appear, where I exist
Inside my head, it’s a nice illusion
A sweet lie to say, if only
If only I could step away

Oh, that fall beckons too much, today

(c)CM
09.10.2016

Some days, nothing makes sense. Nothing you do makes sense. The rain stops  your sky and the walls won’t let you breathe and you want, you want someone to love, someone who will sit with you when you’re trying to make sense of what’s even fucking happening. In a corner of your mind you know you’re raving, but the other corners drown that tiny one out, and the day passes in a bewildered blur.

Maybe you want more. Maybe you want one sign, one small fucking sign that this altar you sit by isn’t where you’re going to starve and die, but grow, bloom, flourish. Maybe you resent everything in the world today because none of it is fucking yours and you have no one to call your own except you- and you don’t love yourself anyway, so fat lot of help that is. And the self pity and bitterness steadily simmers and gains momentum, and you find yourself staring off the side of the building, wondering if today’s the day.

But today is horrible. Today was horrible, which means it can’t be the day. Life cannot fall like this. Today can’t be the day, so let’s sit at the edge and breathe.

Let’s wait for tomorrow.

Messages Off a Cigarette -XXXVIII-

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Messages Off a Cigarette -XXXVII-

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Messages Off a Cigarette -XXXVI-

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Messages off a Cigarette -XXXV-

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Guess where the sun was hiding today?

Light of Dawn

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Light of Dawn

Stayed up all night again
Not asleep, not awake
Comfortable in the dim
Corners of the world
Of my mind
Nothingness can be
So pleasant, sometimes

But the disadvantage
Of living in the dark
Is that you easily
forget
How beautiful
The coming of light can be
-whether it’s a new day
Or a new life

I think from now on
I’ll call you
Dawn

©CM
23.01.2015

Took the picture watching the sunrise, near my window. The light did some funny things. 🙂