This Charming Moan

All right, all right, calm down. I forgot my password for this site, so I didn't update while in Paris. I have only been back a week, and blogging wasn't at the top of my list of things to do. So I'm here now. Quityerbitchen.

Dispatch from somewhere outside Paris

Day One/Two

Travel day. I'm in that no-man's land where there is no time, all spaces have closed together and flown apart at the same time. I will try to find words to explain the first days, but I am really in no shape to write.

Some highlights

Seven magazines, two books ... There is a point at which one grows tired of reading.
Regret over refusing Ativan to help me sleep on the plane
Relief I wasn't drugged upon reaching the final destination
Bon jour
Merci
Trying hard not to mix English, Spanish, German and French
Wonderful boyfriend answering questions and summoning waiters in Spanish
D'Accord
Snowflakes the size of quarters, fat and delicate and the best weather imaginable
French men and their expressive eyes
French women and their impossibly slim hips
Wild French children, dressed in bright colors in contrast to their black/gray-costumed parents
Croissant for breakfast
Defective SIM card for World phone
Motorcyclists on the freeway in heavy snowfall
Thick blankets of snow on 747s
Thicker blankets of snow on fields and trees and buildings
Hippos with long eyelashes and pink tutus
Alligators with feathered caps and flowing capes
Hippos and alligators dancing together
Chernobog, my absolute favorite Disney character and the perfect idealization of masculinity
Slippery goddamn Sambas
Singing pirates with a penchant for red wine and hot women
Blasting off in a rocket to the moon
Getting dizzy after six barrel rolls
Train ride through the Grand Canyon
Remembering that last year at this time we were in the real Grand Canyon
Nuzzling into a thick scarf to stave off an icy breeze
Fish and chips and Aretha Franklin and dancing Brits
Taittinger nightcap
Hot bath and BBC World
How much is $9 trillion?
President Sarkozy's dramatic concern over France's piddly deficit
Dali, Sartre, Baldwin, Jefferson, Picasso
Art thieves and art theft detectives
U.S. and Russian satellites colliding
The utter insignificance of a girl soaking in a hotel bathtub while the world spins
Dragging one's ass to bed before reality unravels any more

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From the Paris apartment in the Marais district, 4th arrondisemont

Around Day Three

Throwing My Arms Around Paris

One sad sack I call a friend is really into Morrissey. I don't begrudge him that; I went through my emo-ish time where The Cure and The Smiths gave sorrowful voice to all my angsty woes. And even though that was a long time ago, I still get into moods every now and then where it feels good to wallow down there with Messrs. R. Smith and S. Morrissey.

Back to Morrissey. He's got this new album, and on that album is a song called, "I'm Throwing My Arms Around Paris," the key lyrics being "... and in the absence of human touch, I have decided that I'm throwing my arms around Paris, because only stone and steel accept my love."

Boo hoo!

But, really, Paris does love you back in her own way. She's not overly demonstrative. She demands respect and will whip you back into line if you forget to treat her as the refined, passionate, infinitely cultured entity she is. But, she loves you and you can feel that as soon as you enter her arms. The most important romance you can have here is the one you enjoy with Paris herself.

I have every intention of writing every day while I'm here. Obviously, I haven't keep up my obligation. I've been enjoying it too much. I'm caught in the exhilarating embrace of the city, and I couldn't be happier about it.

But I will also be happy to go home Sunday. Nothing wrong with my hometown sweetheart, Coronado.

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Back home

Resume previous activities

Got back home around 8 p.m. yesterday. Thanks to a nasty cold thing, I had to stay drugged up on the flights, saving other passengers the horror of being coughed on by a plague-riddled blond chick. Good thing was, I really did sleep almost the entire 8 hours to New York and 6 hours to San Diego.

I was dead tired once I got home and fell into another deep sleep... only to awake ready for the day at 2:30 a.m. Been awake ever since.

So, it's gonna take me a bit to get back on schedule. I could take melatonin to help sort out my Circadian rhythm, but that shit gives me the worst nightmares.

Once I do get on the straight and narrow path to salvation, I can get to work. I've got so much shit to do, stuff I let pile up whilst dreaming of Paris.

And Paris was lovely. A dream within a dream. I have lots and lots of photos.

Please stand by.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

  

 

  

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Comments

[Demandra]

FINALLY!!! (Yes, yes, I'll stop bitching.) You look ridiculously gorgeous and your shoes are divine. Paris and its food doesn't look too bad either. And not to nag, but shouldn't Wonderful BF be Wonderful Fiance now? ;)