Koi ja liekki (The Moth and the Flame)

February 18, 2025 ~ Leslie Lanagan ~ Leave a comment

I have a friend who’s an immigrant from Finland (actually, I cannot remember whether she is an immigrant or whether she was born here- whatever, the connection is close) who says that we should not move to Europe anymore, that we should build a queer future in New Zealand. As a fan of Finn Bell, I agree with her. However, I still have concerns about moving anywhere other than Finland despite Russian aggression. This is because I have found a way to move there for cheap. Of course my living expenses would not be covered, but my school tuition is. I don’t have to work very hard to get into culinary school, because I already know I’m a talented cook. I am not the best, and I do not have to be. I could make a bazillion dollars….. if I had it…. by bringing authentic Mexican food to the ski lifts of Levi, and don’t think I haven’t thought of it. I just know that running a restaurant is literally the most expensive thing I could choose to do.

Learning to cook is not.

I know that I do not want to run a restaurant. I know that I want to live the life of a student so that I actually have time to create content for the web. I am slowly networking in Finland, reaching out to Dave, Aleksi, and Cyril (other content creators in the area… Aleksi is actually Finnish, Dave is from the UK and married to another content creator, also Finnish, and Cyril is a student at the culinary school where I want to go, but he’s Indian). Because I want to work with Cyril, it is possible we could open a restaurant once we start making money from our media. It is not “using” the Finnish government for school if you decide that food costs are too high after you graduate. A culinary degree is good for anything, particularly intelligence. I know where I want to go, and that’s not CIA. That’s a quiet agency in the ass end of nowhere.

New Zealand is not “nowhere,” but it’s less exposed than the US. I have been making very inflammatory statements online because they deserve to be heard, but I am not immune to the fact that those are the people the president singles out first. I have loved the US my whole life. I do not want to work for foreign intel because I have any information to contribute; I would only work for US allies, anyway. What I do know is that real life intelligence gets me out of bed in the morning, but in ways you wouldn’t think of when you think of espionage. Like, how does it all work? I don’t have a particular allegiance in mind and generally don’t care that there are foreign spies in the US because don’t hate the player, hate the game.

Here’s where I draw the line.

The line was drawn in the sand when Donald Trump went into CIA’s house and told them that he trusted Russian intelligence more than theirs. It deserves a “Meet the Grahams” level diss track, because the president is a Russian asset. He’s not even bothering to hide it anymore, and Reagan knows all Republicans are going to hell for ushering Russia in the front door…. Hell, let’s just give Putin keys. And if that is not what you, Republican voters, were saying in the last election, then you need to take accountability for the fact that perception is reality. All republicans are traitors. All of them.

There was a mountain of evidence that a felon was not capable of being president, nor was there a mountain of evidence that Trump would change his behavior to the straight and narrow if he got the job. He didn’t even promise to quit drinking like Pete Hegseth. Speaking of which, I wonder how that’s going?

All Republicans are traitors, and the horrifying aspect of it is that you have to have sympathy. They were genuinely taken in by a cult. You cannot be mad at Mitch McConnell telling Kentucky voters that something is bad for them when he should have been doing it for the last 10 years, but here we are.

All Republicans are traitors because the party was lost and you stuck to the message. You stuck to the message that it was ok to be a convicted felon and to be president at the same time. What kind of future have you set up for your children?

All republicans are traitors because they didn’t know they were voting to have the AP press wire barred from the gaggle.

That’s because when AP calls it “Gulf of Mexico,” they’re the ones spreading disinformation. The first echoes of fascism started coming long before now. It wasn’t until I put it together that no one was actually holding you accountable that I decided to get loud. News anchors aren’t allowed to yell “WHAT IN THE ACTUAL EVERLIVING FUCK HAVE YOU DONE TO THIS COUNTRY, YOU BOTTOM FEEDING LOW LIFES?” It was bad when they wanted to kill Mike Pence. It was bad when they wanted to kill Anthony Fauci.

But then you came after Marianne Budde and I realized that I’m not a violent person, but I will slice your throat on paper.

The problem with American Evangelicals is that they are drawn to power like a moth to a flame. They do not care that Jesus was a poor itinerant preacher who loved his friends deeply and valued teaching and praying quietly. If you want to be Jimmy Carter and not Joel Osteen, you’re going to have “Christians” yelling that you’re not good enough because you just don’t hate enough people.

That’s the thing about Evangelicals. Their God hates everyone they do.

When you advocate for that “old time religion,” do you ever stop to think about what it is you’re really cheering?

White straight people had a good time back then, but fuck everyone else up the ass no K-Y.

You are advocating for Jim Crow, for women with no bank accounts and possibly no vote, queer people in the closet and all erasure of gender/sexuality rainbow excluded….. which shuts our country down in education behind the rest of the world. I do not know what everyone else is doing, but I am not going to sit around and watch everyone get dumber. Christian Evangelicals have ruined my life since it began, and you can all go to hell.

I am sure you will get there, because you profess the faith of the master and not of the slave.

I’m not black, but I’m not like us, either.

I’m autistic and depressed, so you think you can control my medications better than my doctor?

I’m nonbinary, and you think you can have that discussion with me as the USG than my doctor as well?

I’m AFAB, and you think you have the right to access to my body that I don’t have? Go fuck yourself.

It’s also amazing that we still have a problem with gun violence in this country considering we haven’t tried anything.

If you get sick, you can just go die.

Love, “Christians”

I am done with all of this and I’m not an emcee on a mic but I definitely feel the energy of a halftime show where America is concerned.

“God bless America? God damn America.”

The black UCC pastor had it down in 2008.

You’re 200 Late.

If I am lucky, fascism will die out quickly. Pattern recognition says I’m screwed for life and I’m dealing with it.

But not the fuck here.

Duolingo ei ole täydellinen, mutta olen rubiiniliigassa

February 17, 2025 ~ Leslie Lanagan ~ Leave a comment

Today’s lesson in Finnish (Suomi in that language, Day 26) started with learning how to negate something. I’ve been able to say what I am for a long time. It is a relief to be able to say both that I am not an adjective… and I do not have a noun.

The worst sentence (lause) in every language is “Meillä ei ole kahvia.” Finns, calm yourselves. I am actually okay. I have enough. I have to say that out loud because this sentence would send shivers down any Finn’s spine…. “We do not have any coffee.” However, I am not opposed to getting Finnish coffee in the mail. I have resources.

It’s good to have a friend on the ground who said she’d let me mail things to her house when I buy my tickets to Finland. That’s because it’s actually difficult to buy Finnish products over the internet. I am having a hell of a time finding Moomin books in Suomi, so please advise in the comments. I do not want a new boxed set. I want one that has been colored in, dog-eared, and annotated in Suomi because a child loved it so much. Moomin is the new picture I carry in my wallet… er… phone.

This is not an official, licensed picture. I asked the WordPress AI to do a line drawing of Moomin for me, if that is a thing you needed to know you could do, @one4paws. I needed to make that clear because it doesn’t exactly look like Moomin to me, either. However, I do think that if she were alive Tove Jannson would think it was inferior yet clever. I would have gotten one of my artists to draw it for me, but they are currently sleeping. I am often left to my own devices because my body clock is set differently than most people. I move with the sun, going to bed and getting up early.

My favorite fact in life is that when I told Katya that I thought Tove Jansson was a smoke show, she made sure to tell me she was a lesbian. I said, “sounds like a woman I would have liked to have flirted with.” She said, “Well….may be…. she was loved by all….” 😁

Janie the Canadian Editor says that I make her spit out her tea; this line made kahvi stream out of my nose.

The Finns are an interesting case study to me sociologically because so much is counterintuitive to some American cultures, not all. For instance, Finland is like Texas in that people are brave and daring and do lots of outdoor shit comparable to “hey Bubba…. watch this!” They just aren’t conservative socially. Finnish culture is Oregonian. It is no surprise to me that Linus Torvalds moved from Helsinki to Hillsboro or wherever it is he’s living now. My love of Linus/Linux is legendary, and it doesn’t surprise me that I would want to make the reverse move, either. I just may not end up in somewhere as warm as Helsinki because culinary school in Vaasa is free.

The average temperature in the winter is 22 degrees Fahrenheit, which is not colder than Baltimore- it’s just colder more consistently. The average temperature in Helsinki during the winter warms up dramatically…. it is 24 degrees.

Therefore, I will not have a problem when it’s sunny out. Being layered and in the sun is great. It’s the rain, snow, and wind that becomes a problem. However, you have these problems everywhere. In Oklahoma, “it’s not that the wind is blowin….’ it’s what the wind is blowin'” (Ron White). Those are the days you say inside and celebrate your sauna.

Again, I work on the internet. I don’t have to go outside unless I just want to do so…. and I do. I love cold weather, feeling bundled up and secure in all my gear. I am not a prude of any sort. I just have sensory issues with a tremendous amount of heat and there it is. That’s why they do it…. and why they don’t care that they’re naked. It’s just about being comfortable in said heat.

I have said this before, but in case it’s behind a paywall on Medium, Finland has the highest rate of neurodivergence in the world that has been diagnosed. I believe that there are quite a few more undiagnosed people due to the amount of coffee they drink. Caffeine is my go-to choice in managing neurodivergence. Apparently, they already thought of that.

Portland is the same way in terms of volume. I never really had a cup of coffee until I went there on vacation. That’s because Texans don’t drink their coffee as bitter and dark as Oregonians, coupled with the fat of half and half, no sugar. I like Texas coffee just fine, my palate leans toward bold. Therefore, I want something French roast and cream thick enough to stand up to it. It’s hard to please me in vegan, but soy milk does nicely. It’s the thickest and all coffee shops have hazelnut syrup to make the nuttiness of the plant milk make sense in your brain.

I would argue that one of the best drinks in coffee shops is a soy hazelnut latte, because soy milk is not better than cream. Soy beans and hazelnuts bond together in your mind and it just tastes better. Use cream for something else. Everything has the right application.

These are the things that keep me going, because I have found that coffee is cheaper and more efficient than energy drinks. Energy drinks aren’t bad if you buy them by the case, but coffee is still cheaper overall. Plus, I like it when my coffee every morning tastes the same and it’s plain. I haven’t found an energy drink that just tastes like Coke, Pepsi, or Sprite. Therefore, I drink energy drinks as often as most adults who liked Fanta as a kid would drink it…. occasionally to remember, not an every day beverage. The same goes for grape, cherry, and fruit punch. They make me feel like a kid so sometimes I’ll indulge, but my energy and money goes toward fine coffee at the grocery store and cutting out leaving the house.

As I told Katya, “I like working in my own office because no one makes my coffee for me. Therefore, it’s always right and I do not have to share.” I do not mind sharing my coffee, to be clear. I mind other people beating me to the coffeemaker and I have to suffer through it until it runs out and I can make the next one.

Just level a tablespoon when you’re measuring. One level tablespoon per cup. Being exacting is what makes it taste good. And if you do not have a tablespoon that is capable of being leveled, then err on the side of too much rather than too little. You can add hot water later. You cannot fix it when there is not enough coffee flavor and too much hot water.

12 tablespoons is a cup, so I do the shortcut of keeping my coffee in a large enough container to accommodate a one cup scoop. I do not make a cup at a time because coffee (especially mine) is so acidic that I don’t mind drinking left over in the morning.

I do not reheat coffee, though. I prefer it over ice once it’s already cool. If it’s cold outside and I just must reheat, it’s over the stove. Some people cannot tell a difference, but when I microwave my coffee, it seems to change the properties of the drink itself. I can’t name it. It’s just weird.

I also alternate between putting a cup of coffee into a coffee maker and putting a cup of coffee into a Mason jar with a chinois (fine-mesh sieve). The percolating process and cold brew yield different results, and I like the change. It doesn’t matter what temperature it is outside, I like iced coffee when I’m inside. We have heat here.

The point is that I have taken an enormous amount of crap over the years for drinking energy drinks because it makes me look younger than I really am. Meanwhile, caffeine is one of the most effective ADHD medications on earth. I do not need to feel ashamed of “being addicted.” I need to manage how much I drink in accordance with the laundry list of what’s wrong with me and why. For instance, one of the huge reasons that I order cases of energy drinks from Amazon (when I do) is that coffee irritates my stomach and I still need the caffeine. Soda is not as acidic, and it is also sugar free (in my case- all the flavors I really like are either zero or 10 calories). Therefore, it’s another case of application. When my stomach feels better, I go back to cold brew.

Cold brew actually saves my stomach as well, which is why I haven’t used my coffeemaker in a few weeks. It is naturally less acidic when the water is cold, and I brew in the fridge or (when there’s not a danger of it freezing) outside. Sun coffee is just as beautiful.

“Sun coffee” is apt, as I am energized by the sun and need to be outside. My neighborhood isn’t the greatest place to walk around (it’s not dangerous, it’s just not touristy with parks and community, either. My readers might not agree that it’s safe, but one break-in in the DMV over the last 11 years is probably some kind of record- and he was so high that if the patio door had been locked, he would have moved on. He did not look like the type of guy that would break glass. He wasn’t even moving that fast. I just decided not to chase him over cheap ass shit.).

I need to find a place in the city that fits the bill. Right now it’s Panera because I have a gift card, but where is up to me. I’m glad I have a gift card to something familiar while I am looking for something permanent. I support local coffee shops, I just haven’t been here long enough to explore Baltimore. Wherever my mythical perfect coffee shop is, it does not exist in my neighborhood. I’m going to have to search farther.

For Portlanders, I’m looking for Rimsky’s Korsakoffee. For Houstonians, I’m looking for Notsuoh. For The District, I’m looking for Tryst. I am sure that there are many great coffee shops in Baltimore, I just haven’t found them yet.

Luckily, I have help here. My friend Ernest is a young college kid willing to help me get settled because I’m willing to help him get settled. I told him he could hang out at my place if his room was too loud. I have plenty of space and wouldn’t mind someone working with me during the day. His being African helps me out because the way he cooks, I haven’t learned yet. The way I cook, he hasn’t learned yet.

So, I definitely need to meet up with him soon. It’s a great story. We met on an Uber Share. I was looking at apartments and was planning to move to Baltimore. It was his second week in America from Liberia.

Silver Spring to Baltimore isn’t much of a change in demographics, only that there are more African Americans here, as opposed to African immigrants who have come over recently to study and work. Silver Spring has an enormous African immigrant population, one of the reasons I’m interested in learning languages.

However, I did tell my housemate Valentin (Cameroonian) that “francais c’nest pas comfortable pour moi.” His mother, who didn’t know a lick of English, fell on the floor laughing. Because of course when I’m on the spot, I say the first thing that comes to my mind…. “French is not comfortable for me,” a line from an old Michel Tomas recording rather than thinking out how to say “I don’t speak French.”

Puhun suomaista.

However, I am not advanced enough to know why the name changes from Suomi/suomea to suomalista. I just have to roll with it at this point, thus the flaw of being at the top of the ruby league by rote. I need more grammar study because parroting back (see what I did there?) words isn’t helping me to understand systems.

I see everything through systems, and Finnish is called a pyramid…. but it’s a garden. You pick up yksi sana, ja yhdestä sanasta tulee kaksi sanaa. You pick up one word, and one word becomes two words.

Minulla on norjalainen ystävä kuka kirjoittaa. Norjalainen kissat on viikinki. J.L. Henry on viikinki. Tämä vaustaus on oikein koska kirjoittajat ovat kuin kissat.

This is what the Ruby League has gotten me. The paragraph reads “I have a Norwegian friend who writes. Norwegian cats are Vikings. J.L. Henry is a Viking. This answer is correct because writers are like cats.”

One of the sentences that comes up in Duolingo the most frequently is “Norjalainen kissa on viikinki.” It means “the Norwegian cat is a Viking.” I have extrapolated this to mean all Norwegian cats are Vikings because I have owned one and I know that that means….

Life is about breathing steadily right now, turning panic into progress. Slowing down and making plans to breathe next week.

I’m overwhelmed with the amount of support you’ve given me over the years, so I’m paying it forward.

Duolingo is a vocabulary builder that will allow me to become C3PO. The spiritual arc is gravity’s rainbow. The bomb inside you goes off in every language.

Your life’s purpose is to figure out what kind of shrapnel there will be in advance, because you’re the one directing it.

Pro Tips from a Small Writer at Large… Who, Lightbulb, Writes for Medium

February 16, 2025 ~ Leslie Lanagan ~ Leave a comment

Dedicated to a house and a refrigerator magnet no longer there.

Dear @one4paws (and Bryn B on Medium, if you’re looking for the actual talent in the family),

To the “just being helpful” brigade, I will no longer give you purchase. When people ask me why and how I’m queer or trans, I don’t always sit there and explain. I do when the person is kind and wants to be educated; when they do not, I walk away. I am not going to go 20 rounds with a homophobe, nor will I tolerate this:

Me to them:

I don’t want to fix it. I couldn’t even get married until 2001, and even then, it was a domestic partnership. Let them fix their own problems.

Them to me:

I’m sure the Nazis said the same thing.

Civil Unions did no good except on state taxes. No queer person is asking for special rights. They just call it that in the GOP to fear monger and make you think that queer people are so different. That straight people are not fully capable of evil, but gay people are… because we work in the shadows. That is not my present situation with being gay, that was my situation with being gay.

Lack of being able to file jointly with my wife on federal taxes for so many years and breaking up before we married federally never saved us anything. We didn’t pay much in tax, so a state return was maybe $30. I would have been able to build up more wealth in both Texas and Oregon if my federal taxes had been filed jointly as well. The United States has cost me too much emotionally and financially. I have no choice but to slink off to Europe where my being isn’t offensive and my need for help in my disability doesn’t translate to “you’re a dumbass” all the time.

Hate doesn’t get erased. The goalposts just move.

Before I recognized that I was autistic, it was reinforced that I was a failure. I wasn’t autistic and therefore special needs. I was bipolar and had a personality disorder. It is an absolute shot in the dark as to whether which diagnosis is correct, because a lot of people have both and the same drugs work. The reason I changed my mind and diagnosed myself is that no doctor will diagnose you until you have enough concerns to speak with them.

And then you’re an adult and they don’t want to label you because it creates a stigma; 🎶 stuck in a moment you can’t get out of. 🎸

If I had a slogan for autism, it would be “stuck in a moment and can’t get out of it.” If I had a slogan for ADHD, it would be “not stuck in a moment and can’t get into it.” Perkele and saatana would walk into my brain and say, “I’m so sorry.” That’s because the two disabilities fight, and if my psychologist in Houston was right then, it does not render him wrong now. It means that I cycle too rapidly for Bipolar II and I do not know if there’s a bigger arc overall that comes in months, not half hours. It’s not a personality disorder, it’s how my brain processes logic and emotion. I do not know what you are actually saying without a tremendous amount of clarification. Only my friend @aaronbrown8cc63b4e5d4 and you, my darling friend, have been there through it all with me. The laughter and love as I loved hard and let go, refusing to give up long after I should have. I am not in that lane anymore, and have sped ahead. I do not think I have a future with anyone except the people in my life right now. I have little faith that when people are mad they have enough emotional strength to sit and work things out. Autistic pattern recognition says I’m going to be viewed as a problem, so I handle everything alone.

Props to my friends for becoming great pals and advisors on many things, particularly my clothing because all of them been to Finland, but all of them know what cold feels like and how to beat it. I have people from all over the world in the chat group regarding the future of LMG and I don’t accomplish anything alone. I am constantly looking for ways to monetize queer voices because especially women are not financially validated and suffer even more financially in a female/female couple. And if anyone is offended by polyamory, you can look on a calendar at the exact date and time as to which we even had the option of being monogamous. Pro tip: NOT THAT LONG AGO.

Children, women couldn’t have bank accounts in America until 1974, and their grandchildren think women should be over it. I am so tired of the gold digger narrative that quickly turns into “I thought you were going to wipe my ass and clean up after me” and women think, “I thought you were going to financially support me so I didn’t have three jobs, like working outside the home, maintaining the house, and raising the children.” If they say it out loud, that’s when you get nervous if there’s guns in the house.

Men expect service, and they’re not shy about asking for it, because they are entitled to these things according to their fathers and grandfathers………. while also not doing the work their fathers and grandfathers did to provide. They want a maid who supports them financially so they can do nothing while the children play. This is, of course, not all men… but it’s where our country is going. Make no mistake, women were included in Kendrick Lamar’s “Not Like Us.” Before the blue, there was a stark red and white image that said, “OfKendrick.”

I’m not saying it like that idea is offensive or anything…. I don’t care that he’s a famous rapper, but I definitely care that he’s won a Pulitzer.

I am also still peeved that Matt Damon married someone else, but that’s neither here nor there. I’ve never met him, so my take on it is that he loves his wife more than me, which is appropriate because he met her first. 😉 This does not mean that I am any less capable of being one of his crew. I see the entire cast of Ocean’s Eleven as colleagues, and I’m not kidding because George Clooney bought “Argo” and then Ben Affleck directed it. Therefore, I’ve never met them, but I feel a kinship to all of them. It’s like the Coen Brothers. John Goodman is also my homeboy.

I’m scared of Clooney, but I have picked up some tricks from Kendrick Lamar and 50 Cent……

Did you guys know that Ja Rule planned a return concert and was bugging out because the tickets were selling so fast….. only to find out that 50 had bought most of the tickets? Josh Johson told that joke in his standup and I nearly fell on the floor. He’s my favorite comic, so I joined his YouTube channel to see how he workshops his material. He posts his deep cuts to YouTube and you can see them all for a small fee. Josh is a master class in storytelling, and the point is to learn style and structure. I am not a comedian.

I am sometimes clever.

People perceive me as having a lot of false humility and virtue signaling; that I manipulate people. That is not true. I am autistic and do not pick up the proper social cues. I am also not afraid to fail. Me speaking my mind is different from me anticipating your reaction, and it took me until about 12:00 this afternoon to realize that was the case (I realize it all the time; I backslide and this is just another mountaintop day). People do not take in that their actions hurt me just as much as my actions hurt them. Such is the nature of life. I am not trying to oppress you by being me.

There is no queer agenda and there never has been. Quit spreading lies until you flip the script and get it through your (proved by science) smaller capacity to be open-minded. Realize that the queer agenda is the same rights you have. No more, no less. If we get really busy we might add laundry.

But no promises.

Don’t you agree?

I love you, Bryn. Thanks for always being there for me, and I’m excited that you’re getting to know Aaron, too. Someone needs to make him behave. Might as well be you.

😉

Schengen -or- Finnish Grammar for Dummies, and by That, I Mean Me

February 16, 2025 ~ Leslie Lanagan ~ Leave a comment

Sometimes life tells you where you want to go, but not before you can silence yourself enough to hear the answers.

The Schengen Area has become my next goal in terms of a passport. I have redirected in terms of options, not final decisions. I have until the end of November to make a final decision, and I have many before me. The Netherlands has a refugee program for trans people, and it is cheap to start a business. Finland is the cheapest option in terms of going to culinary school for free. I believe that Schengen will be more useful later in life if the British apologize.

I am not stuck on any one thing. I am trying to map everything out. I work backwards. The goal is a Finnish passport because it’s so much like Oregon. Any job becomes available to me once I speak Finnish fluently, and I’m on my way for it being day 23. I am finally understanding how verbs work and a few of the ways singular becomes plural. Finnish is so difficult that it takes up my entire brain, and that’s what I like about it. I cannot function on the constant barrage with what’s going on in my country. Laws are changing too fast and if I leave the country, I may not be able to get back in. Trans people are being harassed at the airport and their passports taken. At that point, I shut down:

a dog is a koira, dogs are koirat. Form follows function. A cat is a kissa, cats are kissat.
Romance language grammar sometimes applies. Minä olet is “I am.” Sinä olet is “you are.” Me olemme is “we are.” Ne ovat is “they are.” You can leave out the pronoun if it’s conjugated in the verb.
There is no pronoun…. and I’m crying when I say this…. to indicate the gender of the person speaking.

Hän on is both “he and she is.” The Finnish language is nonbinary.

You cannot legislate hearts and minds on trans issues, so there’s discrimination everywhere. But what Finns will die to protect is human rights. Having a Schengen visa opens me up to being able to live more places, essentially being able to live in Finland whether I have actual Finnish citizenship or not. I do not hate America for what it has done. I am a political science student. I will never not be a political science student interested in both State and CIA, because they do the same job. One is just public, one is just private. I am not as interested in DIA and the military, but not because I don’t like them. I just prefer information to violence because that’s where I’m the most capable.

One of the things that I talked to with Bryn was being secure that I was not offering to be approachable to foreign intelligence agencies because I have any information they’d like to have, unless what kind of cookies my boyfriend used to eat at meetings is burning inside them. He shared nothing, and we’re not together anymore (sadly- we just weren’t going in the right direction together- no harm, no foul).

I said I was approachable on both web sites as a message in a bottle to intelligence agencies that need me because they’re dying to recruit people and trans talent isn’t needed here.

Fuck you, Mr. President.

I’m more of a man than you’ll ever be and more of a woman than you’ll ever get. Choke on it, motherfucker.

But I’m not bitter.

If you’re wondering why I’d curse out the president, it’s because he said he’d grab me by the pussy on a hot mic that was intentional. It wasn’t even locker room talk…. not that it’s excusable. It’s just comprehendable. None of this makes any sense and I am struggling to understand why I should go on in this country. I do not mean in terms of struggling with suicidal ideation. I mean begging for a way out.

Applying to countries that have jobs in the Schengen region is my first choice. Somewhere like Starbucks would have no problem training me in the US and possibly paying for my flight to work in The Netherlands or wherever they operate in the region where the store works in English.

A restaurant would be better in Finland because it’s an easier transition. Terms are all in French. I could work in Viet Nam, I could work in Afghanistan, I could work in Tanzania, I could work in The Phillipines. Doesn’t matter. Cooking is French. Escoffier brought it to Europe and the rest of the West, Ho Chi Minh brought it to Asia and the East.

The problem is that I am really not capable of working in a restaurant, but the lighter load of culinary school fits. It’s an easy A compared to Finnish uni. I’m interested in getting my sword, but uni is cheap and I need a way to work through it. Culinary school is free and I might not. It depends on what happens between now and the end of my lease. I can’t default on it because even though it wouldn’t follow me, it would follow my dad. That’s what happens when you have money and not income.

My mother died. I have some time to rebuild now. I’m using it. I’m being up front because people ask me all the time how I’m living. I have to live rough so my expenses are covered for a number of years, but I’m okay.

I have a possibility of collaborating with others, and we’ll discuss that if and when it happens. Just know that I’m riding the Rainbow Railroad for all it’s worth because trans talent and money is not needed here.

There is a great big correlation between leaving the country and leaving the church. The United Methodists told me for years I was a sinner while taking my money and I didn’t have a choice.

Instead of staying and participating in a system that I have to fight against until I’m black and blue, I want to use it to move into a different system where there is no homelessness and consistent medical care. Prevention is worth an ounce of cure. If you can go to the doctor every time you sneeze wrong, there probably won’t be million dollar surgeries in your future. But you can’t do that in some states when you’re poor. Luckily, mine is not one of them. But my home state is, so that’s not an option unless I just think, “I’ve lost my fucking mind, why not lose it completely?”

As I was telling Phillipa, one of my new writers, “I could buy a house in NE Texas and settle down permanently, but then I’d have to live there.” Of course there would be perks, like immediate access to my family. However, I would lose everything in terms of the social network. The Deep South is not my place anymore, as if it ever was. Maryland’s politics are more in line with Albany than Richmond. Virginia continues to struggle deeply with St. Bob- what a Northern Virginian told me a Southern Virginian calls Robert E. Lee, thus the disconnect in Virginia culture. Maryland is objectively safer for minorities, and home of the greatest intelligence officer who ever lived.

I am not being specific here, because Harriet Tubman, Jonna and Tony Mendez all lived here. Jonna lives in Virginia now, where she’s on the board at the Spy Musem. I’ve met her several times and she’s delightful. We’re not close, but I admire her greatly.

“In True Face” is essential reading if you want to know what happened to Tony after “Argo,” and “The Moscow Rules” is the last book they wrote together. The reason I pick “In True Face” and “Argo” as your introduction to real life intelligence is that you have to be able to pick out Jonna and Tony’s voices separately and you cannot honestly do that until after Tony dies in Jonna’s timeline. I told her that.

Congratulations on owning yourself.

Her lip trembled because she knew what I meant. It was the second time I’d made her cry, and I’ve written about the first time so much that I don’t need to tell it again. I have felt those emotions and they don’t dissipate with each writing. It’s an experience I’ll remember forever because it changed the direction in which I wanted to go.

Jonna decided to go to a wedding in Europe, and that was all it took. She was a citizen of the world who had the fortunate and unfortunate experience of loving two intelligence officers. The only reason I say it is unfortunate is that she had to learn how to hang quickly, and as you read it’s a different kind of love. It’s harder to watch someone else going through a thing than it is to go through a thing. It’s easier when you’re both going through a thing at once.

It’s not a trope that spies date each other. It’s reality because they never leave the office because they can’t.

They’re as trapped as line cooks during a shift, and the reality is that cooks are often messengers for intelligence and waitresses are the silent witnesses that listen to everything. No one cares if a female waitress is listening, so waitresses are often spies in a uniform and people don’t notice.

Social masking is everything. Intelligence is nothing more than a small stage, which you will learn by rote as I did if you get into the rabbit hole of Jonna and Tony’s voices. I don’t enjoy the idea of doing these things. I enjoy the idea of hearing these things. All I do is talk to people on the Internet. It doesn’t matter where they’re from. If they’re not extremists with an agenda, I’m all in.

I just realized that I should rephrase in terms of being willing to work for allies. Fuck Mossad and IDF. They’re more powerful than Palestine and have held it over their heads. Palestine gets the jump on them one time and it’s excuse for resettlement and make no mistake it could turn into genocide quickly if Netanyahu all of the sudden decides he wants their resettlement land, too. There’s no guarantee the Americans would not support him in this now.

American Jews and Evangelicals are responsible for a lot of this and I am not being antisemitic. I am being political. The Christians and the Jews have decided that the Muslims don’t have a book that’s valid, only they do. Therefore, money is being piped into Israel at a rate that is unsustainable to ever make, much less keep, Palestine sovereign.

But Mormonism and Scientology check out? Please.

The reason Americans are so racist is that you don’t hear about modern Muslims in the news. You hear about terrorists. My answer is a big fat “I Will Walk With You,” the Twitter campaign that took off and made me proud to be an ally…. and “Muslims Report Stuff” completes me.

But the thing is, I’ve been ecumenical since I was born, hungry for information about all religions and not just mine. I have even watched documentaries on Mormonism and not just from escapees. I wanted to understand doctrine because if you’re going to ridicule something, you have to know it cold. I would believe that the Mormon episode of South Park took an enormous amount of research or an all call to the jack Mormons everyone knew in the writer’s room.

I do not ridicule religions that make you better. I ridicule cults because they do not focus on self improvement. They focus on glorification. Religion is not responsible nor helpful unless it begins from the perspective of “every problem begins with me.” I have no qualms about accepting the consequences of my actions as long as I’m allowed to have them. I do not want to be forced into reading minds again, because that is the essence of learning to manage high functioning autism. It is balancing the expectations in other people’s minds versus a very real dysfunction in managing energy.

It is never “dumber” vs. “smarter” with high functioning autism. It is how well you can fit into society. It is how well you can manage your own energy in the face of needing and wanting more space. When Aaron and I move in together, I want a house with a lot of space that neither one of us have to manage. It is not bougie, it is reality. We need help and hiring it out is the one problem that money solves with autism.

In other countries, this neurological difference is recognized (even here, in some states) and you have a social worker to manage these things for you- like a nurse to administer medication and home help.

I’m not old. I’m 47.

This doesn’t make autism less difficult, and I need people to recognize that I am not bitching about problems, but working on solutions. I am tired of having to fight for things like:

a service dog to counterbalance my weight
an assistant or social worker to manage my bills and house
the right people to live with me and help take care of me as I take care of them.

I am tired of fighting for a life of interdependence when Europeans already do things that way. In Finland, you have no choice. In that climate, you bond through those hard activities. You help your neighbor first, because Finns have to recognize that you’re willing to put in the work to maintain a friendship before they give it. That doesn’t mean buying them a present. That means getting in the snow and helping them dig. Philippa, Aaron, Bryn, and I are all interested in spending time there, as is my friend Aaron B. As in, Bryn and AB might not want to move, but they’re not frightened by snow and would love a Finnish vacation once in a while.

I told everyone in my Finnish discussion group (we’re all learners, so it’s mostly English… I am not this advanced) that I was learning Finnish because of the culture surrounding language, not because I cannot get by in English just fine. I’m also a writer, so understanding the rules of grammar is essential. One day I’d like to be able to publish in that language, and I’m on a bit of a deadline.

I’m not going to make it, and that’s okay.

My route to the YKI is long and winding, but it’s definitely what gets me up in the morning. I have a ton of Finnish friends, but none of them have anything to do with this.

It’s that over time, I realized that living in Skyrim was indeed possible.

Suomessa siitä on helppo päästää irti, koska se on jo jäätynyt

February 13, 2025 ~ Leslie Lanagan ~ Leave a comment

Daily writing prompt

What were your parents doing at your age?

View all responses

I have monetized WordPress for all my writers, and we’re discussing how to profit-share. My two ideas are to pay out their money as it comes in, or if they’ll let me have their money while we’re still making pennies, then I will pay them in technology. A lot of my writers are as poor as me, so Aaron, Bryn, and I all need Macs. I now worship at the church of Steve for two reasons:

I speak Finnish now. Finnish is cool.
- I’m on about Day 22, and I have busted my ass to the tune of being at the top of the sapphire league and the February challenge is already done. I am also not ready to live out my life in the United States at this point and deserve a Finnish passport. I came out as nonbinary and then found out it falls under the trans umbrella. I cannot change my gender on my passport from F to X and that is not acceptable to me. I am freaking out with PTSD because of it, thus learning the hardest language in the world. Macs are the only desktops that have long press on keys so that tama becomes tuo. It’s not this, it’s that. “This” is tamä, “that” is tuo. The title is “Letting Go in Finland is Easy, Because It’s Already Frozen.” I used Google translate because I don’t want to have to type all those special characters and it’s day 22.
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Here’s the FAQ:

How are you going to deal with all that snow and ice?

Like everyone else. You plan. I have synthetic Reebok long johns and UltraTech from Uniqlo as well. If I need it, I will upgrade to Merino wool. I just want to get to Finland first before I bite the bullet. Clothes for that climate aren’t cheap, and you pay it. If necessary, I will get animal furs for my shell, but I have a great midweight from Uniqlo as well. My shell depends on how cold it is. In Finland, I might be able to find a good synthetic, but if not, I have no qualms about buying animal skins for that climate. There’s a time and place for it. I don’t take any crap. I am doing synthetics first, therefore I am giving my best effort to be kind to animals. Please do not think I am cruel to animals when it is 30 below.

I am sure that Aleksi, Dave, Cat, Carola, Phillipa, and Cyril will have lots of tips. I just bought a subscription to Aleksi because if you pay money you can talk to him. I want to do the same for Dave, because I don’t think Cyril has enough fans yet to be monetized. He deserves it, though. That’s because his videos are sometimes informational about Vami (it’s a vocational school, which is where I’m interested in hotel and restaurant management. It’s in Vaasa, which is why I’m also on day one of Swedish. I haven’t stuck with it as of yet, because when you choose a language, you stick with it. If I had started Swedish first, I would have stuck with it because the language support is better on Duolingo (it has an AI that can judge your pronunciation. Finnish don’t.). That being said, Swedish is useless for anything but the YKI-testi. Something like 93% speak Finnish, and Swedish being an official language is a throwback because Finland used to belong to the Kingdom of Sweden. Also, it’s cold. But I work on the Internet. Realistically, how much time am I going to spend in the snow vs. watching it?

How are you going to deal with the dark?

I don’t know, but Portland prepared me pretty well. The climate is not all that different from Portland in terms of the sky. It’s dark in the middle of the day in Portland, too. Rain, etc. Katya (my closest Finnish friend) says that I will not understand how dramatically dark it gets until I get there. I’m planning a trip soon to scout out schools in Tampere, Helsinki, and Vaasa. Since culinary school will be a lot of walking, again, I don’t care. You are fabulously warm when you create the proper microclimate, and when it gets REALLY cold, they have the same American hand warmers that we do. I put one in my jacket pocket to absorb into my coat, and I’d be fine in very cold weather. The Finns don’t have to teach you how to get used to the cold. They have to teach you how to layer so that inside your clothes, it’s in the 70s.

They can make you warm enough to faint, as I often do if I’m wearing my winter gear inside.

Why do you want to move across the world? Why Finland and not Mexico since you already speak a little Spanish and it’s a romance language, which is like a hundred times easier?

You have to learn Finnish in a lake so no one can see you cry. I stole that line, but I feel attacked. Yet there is something about Finland that drives me crazy, and that’s the wanderlust to be outside in the summer again without having to revisit the trauma of Portland. I also don’t like it when it’s 110 degrees in the summer. The thing I liked about Portland was that it was tolerable inside the house most days. In Portland, only new construction has air conditioning and you live in one room in the summer- because generally you can only afford one window box if you insist on being a cook. You don’t become a cook if you can do anything else. The neurotypical workflow of an office drives me batshit insane, so I want to learn Finnish cuisine as I’m building LMG. Hopefully, by the time I graduate I’ll be able to support myself on American money…. which I need a lot of in order to qualify for a visa.

Paolo the Accountant says I don’t have enough money to go to Europe and even that doesn’t daunt me. This is because America never gave me a choice. I am begging for money from the whole world and it makes me ashamed because I hate asking for help when it’s a gift I cannot possibly pay back.

But what I need you to know is that I’m The Doctor, and I’m at my last regeneration. I need you to let me have them infinitely.

What were my parents doing at my age?

Living the American dream that I’ll never have due to the United States’ dedication to the idea that I’m not a person. I’m even approachable by foreign intelligence agencies because even though I’ve dated an American intelligence officer, I don’t know anything. I just mean that it would be fun to work for the Finns in intelligence, like a translator or in the mailroom. Being fluent in Finnish doesn’t come all at once, but I’m working as hard as I can. It will take about four years to be fluent, and all of my Facebook groups in Finland will back me up on that. One of the huge problems with Finnish is that I cannot really practice until I get there. The way people speak Finnish and the way they write it is often very different.

I said “kippis” to Katya one day, meaning “have a good day, cheers.” She said that’s for shots. Of course it is.

Katya reached out to me a propos of nothing. My love of Finland is encapsulated in her because we are not romantic partners. She’s kind of my grandma, kind of my mom, kind of Supergrover, kind of Bryn. It would make me happy for us to be neighbors, because older people are lonely…. in Baltimore and in Finland.

I actually am involved with someone casually, but we are planning a future together. He is not opposed to living anywhere in Finland because he’s in Minneapolis currently. We need a vacation in Helsinki for him to warm up this time of year…. He’s also given me fantastic advice on caring for my outer shell (wool sweater and waterproof pants). That the fibers in wool can be tightened and softened with… wait for it… hair conditioner. Of course it can. It’s always something simple and hair tracks.

Aaron is quite a bit younger than me, but it’s not a case of that kind of attraction. He’s adorable, but that’s not what drew me to him. He’s a Lutheran (Missouri Synod) preacher’s kid and an atheist who believes in the same kind of social justice that I do. I’m the Rowan Williams to his Christopher Hitchens. I know Hitch is dead, but Aaron’s smarter. He doesn’t have to work very hard to impress me. He’s been to seminary (didn’t graduate) and I haven’t. Therefore, he was able to tell me what books to read to learn about Jesus, because he was indeed a real person.

At that point, if the virgin birth and the resurrection never happened, does that negate what he taught?

It does to Evangelicals, because they don’t study what he taught, anyway.

Luckily, my dad is not one of them, but at my age he transitioned from being a United Methodist minister to a medical assistant to my stepmother; so did I, in a sense. I am ordained now in the Church of the Latter Day Dude. I was just the go-to for everything as a kid, my dad’s Girl Friday.

As his American dream came together, mine fell apart. I folded at Matthew Shepard’s death, September 11th, January 6th, and now we’ve been taken over by a South African dictator.

If you’re not on board by now….

Bye Felicia.

Bye.

Cops caused my worst trip

December 12, 2024 ~ Riker Brown ~ 1 Comment

30 years ago today, the Police and School District did more damage to me by kicking me out of school for having LSD than all of LSD I’ve taken since then ever has. It socially isolated me preventing me from forming meaningful peer connections in my first year of high school, and despite night classes and correspondence courses I was not allowed to take enough credits to start my second year as a full sophomore putting me behind academically. If it hadn’t been for the fact that I was “previously a good kid” (read I was white and daddy got a lawyer) I would have also been denied the credits for the semester I was a week from completing at the time because “Zero Tollerance”.

Since then, the use of hallucinogens has given me insights into myself and the world that I don’t know I’d have found otherwise, and even helped me overcome past emotional trauma. They’re not for everyone, but they’ve helped me.

I’m not saying there shouldn’t have been consequences for not paying attention to set and setting, but they were certainly disproportionate

It’s past time to rethink drug policy.

This Machine

November 8, 2024November 8, 2024 ~ Riker Brown ~ Leave a comment

The first defense is art and song

Against the ever present throng

Of the hateful and their blight

Their golden calf, their crystal night.

Those with privilege must stand tall

To help those who would face the call

Of extinction by the powers

Day by day, hour by hour

When the threat of fascists reigns

Everyone will feel the pain

You think youre safe if not your brother,

But someday too youll be the other.

When there’s noome left to blame

They’ll come for you, just the same.

The vote you cast to prop them up

Youll find one day wont be enough.

So stand up now, and be the change

To keep safe for all deemed strange.

Protect those now who need a hand.

For peace and justice take a stand.

The Resistance begins.

November 6, 2024 ~ Riker Brown ~ Leave a comment

The artists are the first line of defense. We draw the eyes to keep them off the rest of the movement, and let the frightened know they are not alone.

On my own polytheism.

October 26, 2024October 26, 2024 ~ Riker Brown ~ Leave a comment

Why am I a polytheist?

Because Odin teaches me to have wisdom.

Because Thor gives me strength.

Because Loki tells me when I need to change.

Because Tyr reminds me to be fair and just.

Because Jesus shows me how to love others.

Because The Dude gives me permission to take it easy.

This is Not an Entry

October 16, 2024 ~ Leslie Lanagan ~ Leave a comment

This article is getting a lot of attention on Medium (10 claps when I’ve been on Medium two months is not nothing. If it resonates with 10, it will resonate with more). I’m opening it up from the paywall because it’s popular in the autistic category. I hope you’ll consider buying Medium, because as I joked on Facebook earlier, “I’m on Medium and I’ve gotten more followers because what I haven’t known for 25 years is that my readers prefer audio.” No one has to record my entries for me, I just have to be careful with punctuation so that it sounds the way I wrote it. Also pretty hilarious to hear an AI swear as much as I do. 😉

It’s called “A Certain Kind of Person.”

And by that I mean autistic.

A Letter from the Editor

October 14, 2024 ~ Leslie Lanagan ~ Leave a comment

This will be posted later on Medium, but my real fans get it first.

1265 Download

I’m not different. I’m just different.

October 2, 2024October 1, 2024 ~ Riker Brown ~ Leave a comment

Riker Brown is new to the writing world, and is just now getting their feet wet. Their odd outlook on the world gives them insights that may not be evident to others. They hope to share those outlooks and idiosyncracies in a way that brings just the right balance of wonder and weird.

I posit that neurodivergence isn’t a thing in the natural world, and it only exists because society is built for a narrow, homogenous subset of the population. Anyone who can’t survive in such a society has to be pathologized so they can be the problem instead of our neo-feudal capitalist hellscape.

It’s not neurodivergence. It’s neurodifference because there is no neurotypical.

A Letter From the Editor

September 15, 2024 ~ Leslie Lanagan ~ Leave a comment

The reason that I have moved to Medium is that I cannot make money on WordPress. That will change, because when my ad money reaches the threshold on Medium that it can pay for a professional WordPress account, I will monetize here, too. That’s because a professional WordPress account is only a hundred dollars a year, it’s just not as lucrative for writers as joining Medium. However, I feel differently about it now because @animebirder, @one4paws, @bookerybones, @aaronbrown8cc63b4e5d4, and I all have such unique voices that I either want them on Medium with me, or I want to be here with them. It’s just getting enough ad money to be able to do that in the first place. If you are a Medium subscriber, I make more when you read. Claps are great, but they really don’t pay for anything. What pays is the amount of time you spend on the site.

I am lucky enough to have posted enough to get money this month, which is incredible. I just don’t know how much. That’s because they don’t send you money until you hit a certain threshold, and I almost had enough in August. By October, I’ll have my first real, sustainable income as a writer. I do not want anyone to think of this as a get rich quick scheme, because it is, absolutely…….

One that I could not do if I didn’t have 25 years’ worth of entries already banked.

So, it’s introducing new people to my old work, and introducing new writers that like to talk to each other. We have a group chat that has become an infodump channel, and it’s time to start specializing. That’s because not all of my writers are working for “Stories.” My buddy Evan and I are writing a cookbook. It remains to be seen whether we’ll collaborate online or in person, but either way, we’re writing a book.

The way I see it is that for the next four years, my life is covered as long as I live very simply. That will definitely give me the time to see if a neurodivergent media company is viable. I am learning that I know more than I think I do, because I did not know how boundaries worked. I have constantly treated them like they are others’ guidelines to make. My world has flipped now that I’m in charge of making things happen, and I am lost in the details. The best thing that my mother could have done for me post-mortem is allow me to work on this project, because as of right now, living off of it is the only thing I can do. When the state of MD finds out about the money, I will not have access to Medicaid Expansion or any of the other social services I’ll need to get diagnosed with autism. I diagnosed myself and honestly wouldn’t bother to go to the doctor if it wasn’t helpful to my career. Like, autism diagnoses are so expensive and we’ve all been white knuckling it this long, so why bother?

If I ever have to join another corporate system, I want autistic accommodations because starting a new job without them is setting me up to fail every single time. If you’re a neurodivergent adult who struggles in the system, my guess is that you died inside a little bit at “I have an extensive collection of nametags and hairnets.” Autistic people don’t have problems getting jobs. They have problems keeping them. If you’re autistic, you’re going to excel at government work because they’re going to accommodate you the most. For instance, me being a file clerk or a secretary at Langley was never about working with spies, but getting accepted into a job I could actually do with full government salary and pension. I would love to do menial tasks for CIA because then on my off time, I’d truly be left to my own devices to write. I am also very good at making connections, so I can be just as good a writer overhearing someone’s patois in the mail room as I would being in operations and doing the scary shit myself. The whole point is that my ADHD personality would be thrilled and my autistic personality would want to shoot me. My autistic nature CANNOT handle traveling that much. I am so bad at transitions that I just couldn’t deal. Of course it would be fun to be James Bond, but my body just wants to read about being cool. It doesn’t actually want me to be cool

Right now, everything is in flux as we’re deciding what to do. “Stories” will be rebranded as Gravity’s Rainbow to be more inclusive, but we’re still working on both a full and minimalist logo based on Thomas Pynchon. I want it to represent the energy of a bomb going off inside you. That the arc of every spiritual journey is realizing you are the cause of your own suffering and start to self-actualize.

This space is free, but I hope that one day…. just maybe……

all your base are belong to us

because

somebody set us up the bomb.

There and Back Again, Day Two: Bingenheimer Ried / Alkmaar

September 12, 2024September 13, 2024 ~ Carlos/Giancarla Ross ~ Leave a comment

(September 12, 2023: Echzell, Hesse, Germany to Alkmaar, Noord-Holland, Netherlands)

I packed up my things long before dawn. By four-thirty, I was on the S-Bahn into Frankfurt, and by six, I was on a different S-Bahn train headed north into the Hessian countryside. Dawn began to break as I waited for yet another transfer at Friedberg, with enough time to grab a quick breakfast at the station Bäckerei. By seven-thirty, I’d made my destination, a single platform station in butt-ass-nowhere, called Reichelsheim (Wetterau), a tidy collection of brick houses, and a few slightly newer modern-ish box homes clustered around a REWE supermarket, a smaller Netto Marken-Discount, and damn near nothing else.

It’s the kind of place that would have a Chicken Express, an A&W/Dairy Queen, and fifteen churches if it were in Texas, but this definitely wasn’t Texas. No live oaks whatsoever, instead, the forested Taunus Mountains remained visible on the far side of Friedberg well to the west, and the landscape immediately leaving town opens up into green, gently rolling farmland.

A footpath northeastbound follows the S-Bahn track toward a depression in the north, a wetland complex called Bingenheimer Ried. Before even leaving town, Graylag Geese (Graugans), svelte and free-flying unlike the tubby domestic monstrosities we see in America, honked overhead, joined by other waterfowl – including, to my amusement, introduced Canada Geese (Kanadagans) and Egyptian Geese (Nilgans) which are familiar from my travels in America.

A low, artificial rise adjacent to a tool shed gave me my first good look over the wetlands, and also revealed a decent-sized observation tower to the north. While Enkheimer Ried had been nice and productive, there was no birding-specific infrastructure there, whereas there were clearly purpose-built observation decks at Bingenheimer Ried. Maybe if I was lucky, there’d be other birders present, hopefully not too many, though.

Rare birds can draw in surprising crowds: in America, the first chaseable Spotted Rail drew in dozens, if not hundreds of birders to Choke Canyon Park, tucked away in the whole-lotta-nothing between Corpus Christi and San Antonio. A whole peninsula lined with telescopes and long-lens cameras, all looking for one ungainly, if striking waterbird that had strayed there from Central America. In Britain and Japan, I’ve seen social media photos with huge groups all straining to photograph a single stray from America.

Here, there was a continuing record of a shorebird that would have made more sense to see along the Caspian Sea than a Hessian wetland: a Black-winged Pratincole, with a real doozy of a name in German: Schwarzflügelbrachschwalbe … YIKES! Pratincoles are much less well known than sandpipers or plovers since they don’t range in America at all, but they’re streamlined open-country birds (“shorebirds” being a generalized term referring to a group of related birds rather than an absolute label of behavior or habitat) which feed aerially on insects.

Given that my itinerary wasn’t intended to take me remotely close to the Caspian, I had to give this one a try.

I stroll over to the wooden observation tower, and there are a few people already there but it’s not crowded at all. The telescopes are out, which is good because the main wetland is a good hundred yards out.

Even with eight-power binoculars, it’s easy to see why this place is a birder’s dream. White Stork (helpfully, Weißstorch) forage in the shallows. Wheeling flocks of black-and-white Northern Lapwings (Kiebitz) distract us from time to time with their chatter (ah, yes, kibitzing). Any number of marsh birds and songbirds and crows and the occasional raptor. Still, not yet The Bird.

At some point, they asked where I parked my car. “Oh, I took the train from Frankfurt.” It takes about an hour before they are like, oh, you’re not an immigrant living in Frankfurt who’s so acclimated you’re a birder. I switch to English. “Nope, just landed here from Texas yesterday.” I switched briefly to my first ex-family’s Wichita Falls drawl for comedic effect, and, well, I’m Filipino, so hearing the Hank Hill Voice coming out of my mouth is nearly as much vocal dissonance as, well, me speaking German. Mirthful laughter and I’m a stranger no more.

Turns out at least one of them had been to Texas to see Whooping Cranes, as I have in years past! Birders will be birders: we are a tribe that transcends national origin and common language, and we chase the same legends and listen to the same grapevine. I’d gotten my info from a German living in Belgium before double-checking on eBird. (Note: we’ll get to Dirk in a couple days. He’s awesome.)

Fifty-odd species later (and I’d like to note that this would be a really great list for a single location in Texas, which is right there with California in “you are a spoiled dadgum birder” terms), and we’re still scanning, and it’s getting close to nine and I really need to start considering heading back to the train, rarity or not, if I’m going to make it to my next hostel by nightfall.

Cause this is a side trip, folks. This wasn’t even part of The Itinerary, this was a target of opportunity. And right about when I thought my window was closing, There It Was.

Black wings. Forked tail. Black necklace. Too streamlined for a plover, too chunky to be a tern, sitting pretty on a sandbar. The Schwarzflügelbrachschwalbe (and, nobody was yelling this word like the KRANKENWAGEN meme because not even the Germans were going to consider that) was ours, with high-fives and smiles all around. No, I would not have to save this bird for some far-future pie-in-the-sky trip along the Silk Road. Mind you, I do want to visit the Silk Road, but that’s realistically not happening on a social services coordinator budget.

Well, not like this was realistic on non-profit salary either, and yet here I was, in the middle of a bunch of German birders, celebrating a life bird that makes literally zero sense for an Austinite to expect before retirement age.

Too soon, I had to take my leave, because I had a full birding day booked for the very next day … nearly three hundred miles northwest. And I wasn’t flying.

You see, today wasn’t originally intended to be a birding day, this was a transit day and I’d added two more steps to my whirlwind.

From Reichenheim (Wetterau), S-Bahn local train to Friedberg. Switch onto the S-Bahn back to Frankfurt (Main) central station. And then it would be time to switch to a train towards Düsseldorf, but for a transfer coming in Cologne (Köln).

The original plan had been to take slower trains along the Rhine Valley and check out the Lorelei, that fabled hill upon the Rhine below which the mermaids would lure travelers to some romantically dreadful fate, but there was absolutely no time for that now that I’d burned that on getting a much larger net haul of bird species off the beaten path. Nope, it was time to switch to an ICE train …

And by eleven, that very ICE train was now on the tracks between the Frankfurt main station and airport stops, doing absolutely nothing for half an hour. Finally, an appropriately snarky voice came over the PA, first in German, then in English, both with the same tired, passive-aggressive vocal affect. The other passengers started chuckling.

“Welcome to the ICE train to Düsseldorf. We will be forty-five minutes late to Köln, and we will not be stopping in Düsseldorf. Thank you for riding Deutsche Bahn.”

German. Efficiency. The conductor’s irritation was palpable. Evidently, my rides on the local S-Bahn trains, five in a row all on time without incident, were an utter anomaly, and this was closer to the expectation. No matter, because it makes little sense to worry about what is out of my control, and when in doubt, you pivot!

It wasn’t long before we got rolling, and not much longer beyond that we were screaming through the foothills of the Taunus at 150mph. Now we’re cooking. Forests and farms and the occasional town out the windows, my lifer Red Kite (Rotmilan) seen soaring high overhead (birding from high-speed trains being a skill I learned was indeed feasible on multiple trips along the even faster Tokaido and San’yo Shinkansen lines).

Before too long, the train slowed and farmland gave way to urbanity again, and the spire of Cologne Cathedral loomed across the river. There was my transfer, half an hour before my next ICE train, enough time to check out the cathedral and grab a currywurst,

Just then, a pretty young lady started speaking to me in English. I was caught off guard, so I instinctively replied in English – and immediately realized my mistake. She started in on her sob story about how she was from Afghanistan and needed money and I immediately just walked off because I needed a restroom, I needed some currywurst, and I absolutely did not have time for panhandlers and pickpockets and hell no, not gonna be a mark today.

This may sound callous, but let’s be real: solo travelers abroad are targets, especially Americans, because, whether or not you think you have money (and by American standards, I don’t), you still look like you have money. Even being a paycheck-to-paycheck American means you are a one-percenter by most standards.

Fortunately, I know exactly where to go. Polizei. Duh.

I wasn’t going to trouble myself by turning her in, obviously, because, for all I knew, she was really in need, but she wasn’t going to press the matter in front of the cops, and if she had any accomplices, they would be wise to disappear right the hell then.

More to the point, I didn’t have the damn time, because my bladder was going to bust. Nice coincidence, there’s the bathroom, right next to the Polizei, time to get a euro coin (blargh), and oh hey, currywurst at Le Crobag, let’s effing go.

I was so hypervigilant getting to that Amsterdam ICE train that I failed to get decent shots of the cathedral and I didn’t even remember to tuck into my currywurst until my train was nearly halfway to the Dutch border, sailing through Monchengladbach. The sandwich was still pristine. European breads are wizardry.

The countryside gets progressively flatter as you transition from Germany to the Netherlands, hammering home why people call Benelux “the Low Countries”. It can’t be overstated: the flatness of the Netherlands makes Texas look positively Himalayan. What the Netherlands lacks in topography, though, it more than makes up for in both rural charisma and, weirdly enough, urban squalor.

The ICE train announcement as you reach Utrecht is particularly dire. “Please be aware of pickpockets at all times, there is high pickpocket activity in Utrecht and Amsterdam.” Really, that would have been friendly to mention before, I dunno, COLOGNE? Eindhoven seemed clean and modern enough, but Amsterdam-Zentraal, our next transfer, was …

… yeah, we weren’t going to actually be staying in Amsterdam on this trip, because we still had more train travel to go.

Fortunately for my purposes, the warm cloudy day had become a blustery, rainy afternoon, and the transfer to the local Dutch train was rather uneventful except that I had managed to catch the commuter train with all the students on board going home for the evening.

Now. I can get by in German, and I’m a native speaker of American English. Logically, the Netherlands being geographically and linguistically between these two countries, I should be fine with Dutch, right And you would be absolutely wrong because Dutch is as incomprehensible to me as Quenya or Simlish. You’d conversely maybe think I’d find it awkward and strange, but actually, no, Dutch is a complete and utter delight to listen to.

If there was one word to describe it?

Lekker. The Dutch language is totally lekker.

I’m not being sarcastic: this was literally the word I heard the most on that train ride toward Den Helder.

Also: these folks hold on to their terminal Rs like they’re life preservers in the North Sea, for some reason the Amsterdam dialect sounds almost exactly like a Texas drawl, and I’ll be damned if “valley girl affect” isn’t the goddamn same in Dutch as it is in English.

(In completely unrelated news, if any of you knows or is a polyamorous Dutch girl and happens to be even remotely interested in dating a slightly over-the-hill but adventurous and affectionate non-binary Filipino-American …)

It was stormy by the time I got to Alkmaar, but still early enough (mid-afternoon) that I had time to explore a bit after checking into the hostel.

Alkmaar is sort of a mini-Amsterdam, a canal city with houseboats, but without the urban blight and overcrowding. Instead: a quaint square with the largest cheese market in all of the Netherlands. It looks like a church spire, but I promise you, that is a shrine to cheese. This should be terrifying to me, since I’m lactose intolerant, except that not once in Europe was this ever a problem. A mystery for the ages. (And thankfully not a reenacted movie scene across the table from Kevin Kline!) Across the canal, there was a friendly dude hawking stoofvlees, an irresistible (and actually Flemish) concoction of rich beef stew over fried potatoes, something like an Old World cousin of poutine.

(I still have dreams about all this food a year later.)

The storms had receded into herringbone clouds, and the sun peeked through again as I enjoyed dinner in Alkmaar. Black-headed Gulls (kokmeeuw) wheeled overhead waiting for pedestrians to drop tasty morsels; a wild-coiffured Great Crested Grebe (grote kuiffuut) bobbed in the water looking like the bird equivalent of a System of a Down roadie.

Tomorrow would be a whole day of birding, and all I had to do was check in …

And I returned to the hostel to find a rather snotty young Australian woman in yoga pants at the desk screaming. Evidently she’d self-extended her stay without telling anyone and so my stuff was now strewn outside the room, and her stuff was all over the fucking place and she had evidently thrown a completely shitfit which the flustered hostel manager was trying desperately to manage. After she calmed down, presumably unwadded her pantaloons, and vacated, the manager got me my own room for being so polite and patient and for helping him calm down. (I’m ex-Disney. I know this shit happens, and I know how hard it is to stay professional when it does.)

And look, people have bad days, even when they’re supposed to be having the time of their lives. It’s not a national thing, a cultural thing, or a gendered thing. I’ve had remarkably bad days, in public, during travel, with others around to hold the receipts. So, I’m not going to blame her either. I hope her yoga got her to a better headspace that day.

As for the receptionist, I noticed he was also serving as a barista. A real Dutch coffee, please. (Every country does better coffee than America, I swear.) Over that much-better-coffee-than-Starbucks, I take the opportunity to ask the receptionist-slash-barista what his real opinions about Americans are, and he levels with me that, nowadays, the “ugly Americans” don’t leave their country, and it’s actually the Aussies and Kiwis out of the English-speakers who cause trouble (this earned an eyebrow, but I was frankly thinking this was recency bias), but not even a fraction of the trouble of Mainlander Chinese who don’t queue up, never learn local languages, leave trash everywhere …

Y’all, I’m fully a quarter Fujianese by DNA — that fraction of my ancestors lived in the kind of circular fortress-towns you’d half-expect to see in a wuxia film or a Mulan remake.

But also, from Kyoto to San Antonio, I can kinda personally vouch, because the Venn diagram of “coming from a culture that considers itself the center of the world” plus “nouveau riche with no fucking manners” is going to suck no matter what ethnicity or nationality that Venn diagram comes from, and Mainland China is precisely where that junction of recently prosperous, deeply self-centered people with no common sense is on the ascendant right now.

Dude was also keenly observant on the other point: the stereotypical Ugly Americans would never leave their homes nowadays because they’re too busy believing what they’re told, that everywhere else is a shithole. Or, in the words of a particularly toxic influence long since yeeted from my life: “Why would you ever leave America when everything you could ever want is already here?” (Yeah, double middle-fingers to that person. Not one bit sorry.)

More world for me to enjoy, anyhow.

I gave myself time afterward to really enjoy a quiet evening in Alkmaar, because tomorrow would be a very busy, all-day birding trip to the North Sea island of Texel, and this was perfect — I certainly didn’t feel overwhelmed like I would have in Amsterdam. I walked past a Hawaii Restaurant whose menu was zero percent Hawaii, but those burgers would’ve been great if I wasn’t literally from where burgers are like The Most Basic Restaurant Food. So I ended up with spareribs (helpfully labeled “spareribs“, with a choice of “traditioneel” or “spicy“) at a place called De Waag (because it’s the Netherlands and their double vowels deserve at least half a dozen appearances in this blog entry), and then got myself a pretty good night’s sleep in anticipation of another early morning.

All in all, a very unexpected and high-productive side-trip, a damn-near u-turn, and my second new country in as many days. Right on.