Goodbye, cardigan ;_;

I wish to announce to the world that I have lost my non-fuzzy wool mix zipper cardigan that has been an extension of my body in the colder parts of the year since 2003 or so. I was wearing it in Freehold, New Jersey, above, and I also wear it in all my hourly comics.

It fell off my bike somewhere between Treptow and Alexanderplatz, and it was nowhere when I went back to look for it. ;_;
Luckily I had not yet washed it or mended all the holes in it as I was planning to do soon. I.e. it was pretty nasty and full of holes. :o/ Maybe someone threw it in the trash. Or maybe some hipster picked it up and is going to use it for some stupid art project, because it’s just so … authentic. Most of all I hope it was adopted by somebody who really needs it. :3

I got it from the Christian thrift store in Lund, Sweden, in my early university years. At first I thought it was kind of strange and I wasn’t sure how to wear it. But gradually I realised how extremely practical it was, and it became my perhaps most used item of clothing ever.

Now I will have to fill this void with another cardigan that will be equally or even more practical and versatile, because how else am I supposed to wear summer jackets in the winter like I usually do.

April 19th, my 29th birthday

This is a kind of personal entry, so if you’d rather just look at the pretty photos from Teufelsberg and not read any relationship crap, you can head over to Flickr instead.

(Continue reading …)

Farewell, my dearest bike

I am an idiot, so yesterday I left my bike overnight at the train station where I have my garden. Today my bike was gone. It looked like hell and barely functioned normally, so I really wonder if it was worth it for the thieves to break the two locks to try to sell it.

It was stolen once before by some stupid kids in Orust East Side, who cut up the saddle and tyres and dumped it in a ditch, where a nice old lady found it and responded to the notice we had posted. I posted a note now, too, although I doubt anyone will care to respond.

I had that bike for 16 years, in Hannover, Finland, Sweden and now in Berlin, and it was like an extension of my body. Everyone I borrowed it to hated it, because it had weird quirks that probably made it uncomfortable and even dangerous to ride if you didn’t know it very well. It was like a difficult horse that only a very special person can ride. I have been kind of that person with horses, so maybe it’s not so strange that I loved this bike. It was really fast, too. :3

A few years ago, outside Lund, Sweden, when it was considerably less rusty:

My parents bought me that bike in Hannover, when I was 13 or so, after my previous bike had been stolen. There was another bike in the store with the same price tag, a “better” bike that was on sale and had a white and mint green paint job. My parents wanted me to take that bike, but I refused. The salesman and my parents sighed and rolled their eyes. But I wanted the black bike. I wonder how many years the fugly mint green bike would have held up.

The only significant problem my bike had since then was that the chain wore out just three years ago, after my stupid boyfriend had talked me into oiling it. Which, as I later found out, you should never do unless you also clean it very thoroughly – otherwise the oil will help the dirt and sand move into the chain and break it, which is exactly what happened to me.

My next bike will certainly have a hard time filling its shoes. (Tyres?)