Poems and Texts

“MAKE THE BED – fragments” by Amelia Bande

MAKE THE BED – fragments

Shared lifestyle. Shared politics. Shared interests. What do I have to do to belong? Wear the right outft? Is my hair too longto be a dyke? See, I would never screw you over. Cos we are part of a community and that would be fucked up. I’m looking for a room, can anyone offer something, can anyone recommend a place?

Energetically balanced artists-room in our cozy, railroad-style apartment. A hidden gem. We are near countless cafes and groceries, a natural foods store. Bars, bookstores, burgers, bagels. The Spectrum. We are surrounded by establishments. Surrounded by cool things everywhere you can’t even breathe on your own, there is so much going on, around our cozy friendly railroad apartment. If you are interested please email me: What do you do? What do you like? What are your future plans? And attach a picture of you. The perfect roommate has good credit and makes around 60 grand.

60 grand? For a cozy room in a railroad apartment?

It’s the landlord rules, not ours. We’re both queer, and it’d be cool if you were too, but as long as you have fantastic nonexclusionary politics, you’re absolutely welcome here.

Could you please tell what having fantastic non-exclusionary politics mean?

It means, you need to have good politics.

The glory of online rip-off friends. A masquerade. Cos the thing is. I want to belong and I need a place to live. But the structure. I don’t know if I can be all these things. I don’t know that I can earn money and be cool and 420-friendly and of color and a grown up and volunteer and make art and bring positive energy and be laid back and do the dishes and get to know you and afford healthy food.

So if we share a space, I could sleep here in this corner. I like my solitude and I keep weird hours. I also like the loft bed. Or that would mean I’m on somebody else’s business? Looking too much like a hierarchies pyramid inside our own house.

I can leave you alone. Everybody busy with their own thing. Each life a separate block.

Can we meet at the corner? I want to tell you a secret. Communication skills required (no texting or leaving notes about house issues). Please make at least 2.5 times the rent of the room. You will be required to verify this.

What if I am the lease owner, for years now, and because the market has gone up, I can rent the empty room in my house for double the price and I get to save while my new roommate is having to work 3 jobs. Talk about gentrifcation is ongoing in cafés across the country. But my guilt trip won’t stop the process.

Sometimes it is hard to know if what i hear coming from my roommate’s room is someone laughing, or having sex or crying. Its kind of baffing because, when I see your application and you are like: Be this, be that. Have this much, be able to show it, to prove it. It’s easy to demand certain things when yes, it’s the landlord, not you. But why do you need to know what my future plans are?

I don’t want to become naïve about the hostage situation in which we are. As a vulnerable being I want to fnd alliance with other vulnerable beings. Be strong, together. Stay weak. As I join, who is left behind? As I embody a certain identity, who is denied a meal, a roof ?

As I apply to a room, I might describe myself to you.
And I might seem similar to you.
And you might want to be more like me, or I might want to become more like you.
But we are not the same.
Sometimes we exist in others.
But we are all unique.
That difference is not a lack of common ground, but a recognition.
I will not deny where I come from, bury it under theories and words I learned.

I liked you, how you were, that frst day we met.
That lack of identity of yours that left you unprotected.
That was very beautiful.

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