you know that the night is not going well when a cop shakes his finger at you at 1:56 am at the liquor store and wont let in you so you go home and start drinking triple sec on ice and then start crying



i have always loved odors, be it sweat,

morning breath, even excrement

the dirt of a long train journey and a bed

my odor was cursed. i was

a whiff of schnapps in a lovely house.

bathing three times a day was not unheard of.

by month’s end i was avoided like a cadaver

I have regretted much, mostly my odor.

mostly that my smell has failed to please.

it inspired hatred, vengeance, damnation as well.


-ingeborg bachmann (who died of a fire in her apartment in rome)

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