Prior Rust, approaching Steam...
Ha, the 22 of March already. Before I know it my feet will be scraping the stones of the Rocky Mountains again. As much as I can't wait for such a day to come, Brian has taught me that patience is a virtue, so, I'm left 'on the fence' so to speak. One thing is for sure, however: time changes itself every two weeks. It's got some kind of rapidly-changing, super-mutating DNA or some shit like that...
I don't know, though. There is something timelessly beautiful about taking a power bike ride until 3 in the morning, getting up at 10h30, having a coffee, biking 5 minutes to the best outdoor market Paris has to offer, buying so much fresh food that you can barely carry it, loading it up in a La Poste bag and riding back on a bike that is older than you are. Coming home, writing a little, having a few beers on the 8th floor and watching the sun descend on Paris then making a feast for 8 people while pretty smashed. Maybe that's me.
If there wasn't a large mound of things that didn't need to get done sooner rather than later, I'd say I was impeccable right now.
On another note: I lost my bag on Wednesday night, in probably the single dumbest thing I've done in the last 2 or 3 years. I stopped, right outside of Trocadero (that spot in Paris where tourists fester like bacteria because of the fucking eyesore known as La Tour Eiffel if you have a sliver of Francophone in you; or La Tour de la Merde if you have some cheery Parisian in you...) to take my Jean Jacket off, as I was sweating up a storm hauling balls on my bike. Set my bag down, took my jacket off, strapped it to my bike and just bolted without my bag, realizing 10 minutes later that I completely forgot to put my bag back on. Just left it there. Of course there was no trace of it when I go back. Ok, way to go, dumbshit. There goes two weeks pay, (90 Euros), your 'you are not illiterate fortune, some cards, a bunch of snacks, school notes, Merleau-Ponty's Phénoménologie de la Perception, and my little notebook I've had since I first got here. Spent a futile 2.5 hours going to various police districts in the area, trying to see if anything has turned up, but, hopeless. Alright, I accept it. Mainly bummed about the things that I wrote in, as you can't really replace that.
Then, on Friday, I find the empty envelope of the St. Patrick's day card that my Mum sent me in my mailbox. That card was in my bag. Apparently whoever found (took?) my bag found the card in the bag (which was in a more discreet pocket), took the actual card from my Mum out of the Envelope and mailed it back to me. Then last night, I get a call from a Private Number that doesn't really say much but it was certainly no voice that I recognized, neither of the two mocking Parisian voices that seemed to be laughing a lot. All my information was in that bag, including my address, my number and my credit cards. Those are canceled and taken care of. I know I'm not special enough to be taunted by these people who have this bag, but I just want my notebook back, and maybe my Lit Theory notes, okay? How I would love it if I was given a third reason to believe that whoever found my bag is actually fucking with me...
In other news, I'm hoping for two more jobs somewhat soon. One doing a week-long babysitting stay up in a country home in La Campaigne for les vacances de Pac which would be a really nice vacation: have all my expenses paid, hang out with some cool French people, and get paid to hang out with a 5 year-old and a 16 month-old. And the other one doing Orthographic transcriptions for some Science research firm, which would be pretty rad. We'll see how that plays out, however.
Had sun all this week. That's a first. Nicest I've seen it since...October? Quitting smoking is going mostly well. Apart from 2 cigarettes, I've had a successful week of not smoking, and although having 2 cigarettes kind of disqualifies the 'not smoking' thing, if I can live a normal life without cigarettes, I'm happy. In my mind, nights where you bike 15/20 km and have about 10 beers make a cigarette not count. Not exactly the most strict system, but I've never been a very strict person...
Time change is next week. I'm feeling stronger than I've ever felt. Apart from the creeping uncertainty and the growing mountain of shit I really need to take care of, I'm really quite well. Cheers.
I don't know, though. There is something timelessly beautiful about taking a power bike ride until 3 in the morning, getting up at 10h30, having a coffee, biking 5 minutes to the best outdoor market Paris has to offer, buying so much fresh food that you can barely carry it, loading it up in a La Poste bag and riding back on a bike that is older than you are. Coming home, writing a little, having a few beers on the 8th floor and watching the sun descend on Paris then making a feast for 8 people while pretty smashed. Maybe that's me.
If there wasn't a large mound of things that didn't need to get done sooner rather than later, I'd say I was impeccable right now.
On another note: I lost my bag on Wednesday night, in probably the single dumbest thing I've done in the last 2 or 3 years. I stopped, right outside of Trocadero (that spot in Paris where tourists fester like bacteria because of the fucking eyesore known as La Tour Eiffel if you have a sliver of Francophone in you; or La Tour de la Merde if you have some cheery Parisian in you...) to take my Jean Jacket off, as I was sweating up a storm hauling balls on my bike. Set my bag down, took my jacket off, strapped it to my bike and just bolted without my bag, realizing 10 minutes later that I completely forgot to put my bag back on. Just left it there. Of course there was no trace of it when I go back. Ok, way to go, dumbshit. There goes two weeks pay, (90 Euros), your 'you are not illiterate fortune, some cards, a bunch of snacks, school notes, Merleau-Ponty's Phénoménologie de la Perception, and my little notebook I've had since I first got here. Spent a futile 2.5 hours going to various police districts in the area, trying to see if anything has turned up, but, hopeless. Alright, I accept it. Mainly bummed about the things that I wrote in, as you can't really replace that.
Then, on Friday, I find the empty envelope of the St. Patrick's day card that my Mum sent me in my mailbox. That card was in my bag. Apparently whoever found (took?) my bag found the card in the bag (which was in a more discreet pocket), took the actual card from my Mum out of the Envelope and mailed it back to me. Then last night, I get a call from a Private Number that doesn't really say much but it was certainly no voice that I recognized, neither of the two mocking Parisian voices that seemed to be laughing a lot. All my information was in that bag, including my address, my number and my credit cards. Those are canceled and taken care of. I know I'm not special enough to be taunted by these people who have this bag, but I just want my notebook back, and maybe my Lit Theory notes, okay? How I would love it if I was given a third reason to believe that whoever found my bag is actually fucking with me...
In other news, I'm hoping for two more jobs somewhat soon. One doing a week-long babysitting stay up in a country home in La Campaigne for les vacances de Pac which would be a really nice vacation: have all my expenses paid, hang out with some cool French people, and get paid to hang out with a 5 year-old and a 16 month-old. And the other one doing Orthographic transcriptions for some Science research firm, which would be pretty rad. We'll see how that plays out, however.
Had sun all this week. That's a first. Nicest I've seen it since...October? Quitting smoking is going mostly well. Apart from 2 cigarettes, I've had a successful week of not smoking, and although having 2 cigarettes kind of disqualifies the 'not smoking' thing, if I can live a normal life without cigarettes, I'm happy. In my mind, nights where you bike 15/20 km and have about 10 beers make a cigarette not count. Not exactly the most strict system, but I've never been a very strict person...
Time change is next week. I'm feeling stronger than I've ever felt. Apart from the creeping uncertainty and the growing mountain of shit I really need to take care of, I'm really quite well. Cheers.