"One night last summer, I did..."
Trouble is what I would get, if I:
stopped brooklyn bridging the gap;
started tabaccoing regularly;
"opted for bellvue instead";
Today was healthy, and full, and dimples. We slept in, our arms and legs close and plaited; then he ran back up to the Hudson to his Miss Molly Mo. And to think, he mightn't have been here were it not for the yearbook of greats who decided to paint themselves all over the weekend. Saturday eve found her way to a garden across the way, sipping mints and limes, and some smoky clothes, and some whores of daughters. One tree cream, six dumplings, and infinte words later, I put the love on the train, and got back to it.
Another we... talked Madame Woolf, we barefoot-ly ran through imaginary fountains, napped in the plaid twilight, traversing the yellow gingham. It wasn't even gone away by 8:30. This is the perennial day of discovery of summer. Right now only Thirty-two pages and six minutes away.
Of course, the orange voracity of today is the bluestone/slate-gray/pink cancer of tomorrow. We'll doze half, eat half, play half of today's bonne santé, and pawn it all off for 48 hours straight of tempest, tempest, deane, tempest, beatsbeatsbeats... peut-être un peu de français.
Two hours on Monday nights have escaped my spear, and now they are regained. My Proustian sense takes over every inch of time regained, and so hedonistically, too.
Chambre de bonne, or a homestay?
Ok, Frenchy, give us what you've got:
"All I can see so far is a stereotypically expatriate me, sitting nursery school story mat style (injun?) in my everyday chair at the mirror of every other patio café in Paris, a lost fountain pen found, stumbling all over unlined pages. Everyday drunk on some boring (to them) bordeaux, everyday biking with basket, to get the very very most of what I should pay some 30 euros for, everyday climbing montmartre steps and everyday not missing speaking english. Are Ernest, Frank and Simone ready for me to join them?"
Oh you... you're silly. It might not be like that. Maybe if you buy a typewriter, but maybe not.
"But still... chambre de bonne? homestay? I'd like to have a dog. and some paints."
On peut souhaiter, seulement.
stopped brooklyn bridging the gap;
started tabaccoing regularly;
"opted for bellvue instead";
Today was healthy, and full, and dimples. We slept in, our arms and legs close and plaited; then he ran back up to the Hudson to his Miss Molly Mo. And to think, he mightn't have been here were it not for the yearbook of greats who decided to paint themselves all over the weekend. Saturday eve found her way to a garden across the way, sipping mints and limes, and some smoky clothes, and some whores of daughters. One tree cream, six dumplings, and infinte words later, I put the love on the train, and got back to it.
Another we... talked Madame Woolf, we barefoot-ly ran through imaginary fountains, napped in the plaid twilight, traversing the yellow gingham. It wasn't even gone away by 8:30. This is the perennial day of discovery of summer. Right now only Thirty-two pages and six minutes away.
Of course, the orange voracity of today is the bluestone/slate-gray/pink cancer of tomorrow. We'll doze half, eat half, play half of today's bonne santé, and pawn it all off for 48 hours straight of tempest, tempest, deane, tempest, beatsbeatsbeats... peut-être un peu de français.
Two hours on Monday nights have escaped my spear, and now they are regained. My Proustian sense takes over every inch of time regained, and so hedonistically, too.
Chambre de bonne, or a homestay?
Ok, Frenchy, give us what you've got:
"All I can see so far is a stereotypically expatriate me, sitting nursery school story mat style (injun?) in my everyday chair at the mirror of every other patio café in Paris, a lost fountain pen found, stumbling all over unlined pages. Everyday drunk on some boring (to them) bordeaux, everyday biking with basket, to get the very very most of what I should pay some 30 euros for, everyday climbing montmartre steps and everyday not missing speaking english. Are Ernest, Frank and Simone ready for me to join them?"
Oh you... you're silly. It might not be like that. Maybe if you buy a typewriter, but maybe not.
"But still... chambre de bonne? homestay? I'd like to have a dog. and some paints."
On peut souhaiter, seulement.