Today

Today I saw two ladies at a cafe. One of the ladies had a fat pug dog in her lap. She was holding him so he looked like a child sitting straight up. He had an obvious little boner, and the ladies were laughing at him. He looked embarrassed. The lady who wasn't holding him reached out and poked his penis with her fingernail. He tried to bite her hand. I wish he would've gotten her.

Today in the news, there was a story about a 14 year old boy who drowned in the River Seine last night. He was having an argument with his friends about a video game. They had it and wouldn't give it back to him. They told him the only way he could get it back was if he jumped into the river. The boy couldn't swim. He refused to do it, until one of his friends promised that if the boy started struggling in the water, he would jump in and help. So, the boy jumped in. They found his body this morning on the banks. His friends saw him go under, but none of them were brave enough to go in after him. One of them ran for help, and the rest of them stood there and watched him drown. I wonder how that boy who promised he would jump in after him feels today. There is a story by Albert Camus about a man who is crossing a bridge and sees a woman about to jump off. He could stop her, but he doesn't. He finds out later that she drowned. The fact that he could've saved her that night and didn't haunts him for the rest of his life. When he's an older man, he goes back to the same spot and he says, "Oh, young woman, if only you could jump in the river again, so I might save us both." I wonder if this boy will turn into that old man.  I think so.

Today I learned that plastic surgery began in World War 1. A lot of people picture WW1 as soldiers running from trench to trench stabbing each other with bayonets, but the reality was that most of the fighting was done with artillery. When the artillery would hit the men, it would literally tear their bodies to pieces. In the hospitals, the doctors had to learn how to build faces again from the lumps of burned flesh and bone. So many soldiers lost their eyes that the German government started a radio program just for them. That was why radio dramas were invented, so blind men could see again. 

Paris In The Rain

Midnight walk around Paris right after it rained. Beautiful.

If you are lucky enough to have lived in Paris as a young man, then wherever you go for the rest of your life it stays with you, for Paris is a moveable feast.
- Hemingway

Every city has a sex and an age which have nothing to do with demography. Rome is feminine. So is Odessa. London is a teenager, an urchin, and this hasn’t changed since the time of Dickens. Paris, I believe, is a man in his twenties in love with an older woman.

- John Berger

You can't escape the past in Paris, and yet what's so wonderful about it is that the past and present intermingle so intangibly that it doesn't seem to burden.
-Allen Ginsberg 

Today On the Subway

Today on the subway, I saw 4 different people picking their noses. I have no idea if they were French or not, because they weren't talking, they were picking. So I'm not even going to go there. However, it seems that at least French subways have their own brand of crazy. I'm sure any subway system in a major city, especially New York, has its share of insane people. But here in Paris, their insanity is almost an art form.

I saw a Hasidic Jew pick his nose and eat it. I'm not sure that's kosher.  I saw a kindly looking old grandpa pick his nose and flick it onto the seat in front of him...where someone else was sitting.

I saw a child, probably about 6 or 7, pick his nose, then take out whatever he found, examine it, smile, and then put it on the soles of his shoes. I saw a woman dressed in a business suit/skirt, with an expensive looking briefcase, pick her nose after looking around to see that nobody was watching, and put it into a white cloth, which then went into her pocket.

I saw two teenagers with braces making out and the dude feeling her boobs. I saw what looked like a man masturbating underneath a newspaper. His eyes were shut and he was going "uhhh". Maybe he was having a seizure and I'm just a total asshole.

A day or two ago, I was in a public park sitting on a bench watching the little kids play and reading a book. I saw a mother pick her child up, take her to the corner of the park, which was still right out in the open, pull her shorts down, hold her up by her chubby little arms like a baby chimpanzee and let her pee. Right there, in public. Aren't there diapers for that sort of thing? Does this woman really carry her child around with no diapers or underwear and just let her piss and shit in any corner she wants to?

Paris smells like pee in a lot of places, so really, I wouldn't be surprised.

Yesterday, I saw an ad for Orangina (which I'm pretty sure is pronounced orange-eena, but makes you want to say it like "vagina") which featured a zebra who had basically been turned into a prostitute. The French seem to consider this a winning marketing strategy, and I have to say, at least it gets your attention.

When I was in the Luxembourg gardens I saw a poster for a children's show with marionettes. I don't know of many things that are more disturbing than marionettes. Like dancing corpses. And for children? I bet parents had a hell of a time dragging their kids to that. But for all I know, French kids are little freaks and love shit like that. It would certainly seem that the French are at least into creepy clown-like shows, judging by all the signs I see like this everywhere: 

Ahhh, you nutty French people, c'est la vie. 

New Stuff

This blog isn't going to be all about Paris...but also sometimes about the stuff I'm doing while I'm here. Writing exercises, poems, stories, etc. If you don't like it, GTFO.

Milk and Cookie Massacre

This is a writing exercise we had to do in class today, and my group thought mine was funny, so I had to read it out loud in front of the whole class. I was like ahh fuck, but everyone laughed during it, so it turned out ok.  Here it is:


I have an uneasy relationship with milk.

Scarred more than once by the spoiled by-products of a cow, suspicion is usually my first reaction to any sort of dairy.  I believe this all began with an incident from my childhood. The Milk and Cookie Massacre of second grade.

Milk and Cookie Break came halfway through the morning; early enough that our appetites wouldn't be spoiled for whatever slop-of-the-day on plastic trays we'd be having later, but not so late that blood sugar levels dropped into tantrum range. 

I believe Milk and Cookie Break was a social contract designed to keep us obedient. Pay attention a little longer, children, and we'll have Milk and Cookie time in just a bit. If I see you pull her hair again, little Johnny, you won't be getting your Milk and Cookie time today. 

Faced with the loss of Milk and Cookie Break, even hell spawn like Michael DeLaRosa were forced into retreat.

The milks were in perfect white cartons, lined up like little soldiers on the rolling cart that came to every classroom one by one. We all waited impatiently for our turn to select either white or chocolate milk, and then set to work dunking and devouring our cookies.

Feeling particularly adventurous, I chose chocolate milk with my chocolate chip cookie. Why the hell not, what's another 200 calories when you're 7 years old? Back then, I didn't even have thighs, just another set of monkey arms hanging from my hips.

Right away, it became obvious that something was terribly wrong.

As per usual, I had opened my little carton and poured my first big gulp right down the hatch. But instead of normal milk, I felt the strangest sensation of slimy, curd-like chunks sliding around my mouth.

Instinctively, I spit them out into my hand.

Fascinated and repulsed by this turn of events, I examined the chunks for a moment before becoming aware of the most awful taste I had every experienced. Imagine the sweetest, most rotten, most disgusting taste you can, and now add a little texture.

Gagging, I saw the chunks in my hand were brownish-green, and was instantly transported back to the time we fed our cat too many hot dogs, and he shit all over the house.  It was almost exactly the same hue and consistency.

All around me, children were crying, spitting, and yelling. My milk was not the only one that had gone bad. The milk had been spoiled for at least a week, and most of it had solidified into a jelly-like mass of pure nastiness.

Whichever lunch lady was in charge of the milk cart that day had truly fucked up.

I remember a boy sitting next to me saying, "Why? Why?" That, and the taste, that even hours later, I just couldn't get out of my mouth.

This incident gave me more insight into life than a second grader has any right to. 

First, expectation can be a powerful tool to motivate and control, especially children and stupid adults. Make your dog do a trick, and then give him a treat. Repeat the process enough, and the expectation of a reward becomes so standard, that you could throw him a lit firecracker and he'd try to swallow it.  Same with kids.

This leads me to my second point, which is that when life is planning to take a shit in your mouth, you'll never see it coming. Life owes us nothing, and there is no reason to expect anything different. Why would God make second graders choke on curdled milk?

Because he's an asshole, and he can.

Third, sometimes the things we want the most end up being as spoiled and rotten as we thought they'd be wonderful. Like how I chased after the hottest guy ever and when I got him, realized he was a total asshole and awful in bed. Side note, the only thing a girl should ever chase is a shot. Of whiskey. Because who needs to chase vodka? It's delicious.

And finally, check the fucking expiration date on everything or you deserve what you get.