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| A vacation spent
In the houses of men long dead
Or in the cemeteries that held
Their graves
Checking persistence in vandalized and chipped
Marble monuments adorned
With the digging claws
Of well fed black birds
Their beaks clicking,
And old eyes imposing
I pouted at the bottom of headstones
Took pictures, rubbed their likeness
Onto ripping paper and
Frowned knowing they’d never know me
(Try and Understand)
We’ll never really meet
But that in a hiccup
In a fucking breath of some
Forty or so years
That we’d all be cold, close enough
When I went back to the city
I didn’t talk about it anymore
Then, sitting in a friend’s kitchen over
Some glasses, some bottles
He asked, “how was your trip?”
“Fine, fine.” I said “ Walked around. Felt nice”
And looking at his young face and
Seeing my own in the window reflected
I said to myself, to anyone
“Forget it. Forget it, handsome
You’ll live forever”
Then I took the bus home.
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| Alright. Sorry I didn't get time to write that on paper.
What you have to see:
- Rodin Museum. (Metro Varenne) The Gates of Hell are cool but my favorite statue is in the back garden, at the right corner of the house when you're facing it. It's a woman, carrying a stone, "Cariatide" they call that.
- Louvre, Musée d'Orsay, Eiffel Tower (Metro ligne 6 bound to Charles de Gaulle Etoile, get off at Trocadéro et climb the stairs, you'll have the "28 weeks later" view), Beaubourg/Centre Pompidou, Montmartre. You'll see that...
- Shakespeare and Co, Go upstairs, there's that nook with a typewriter, and books everywhere and dirty couches. I think they even have a cat or two...
- Abbey Bookstore. The owner is Canadian. Piles of books that you invariably knock down when you brush past them. There is a pot of coffee always around for whoever wants some.
- Village Voice bookstore. Nice place. Cleaner and quieter. Worth checking out anyways.
- Latin Quarter. (right next to Place St Michel) Chinese, Japanese, French, Greek whatever food. Falafels too. At the entrance of the Greek restaurants, there's always a waiter who breaks white plates, make some noise, get people to notice them. Interesting crowd. In the Rue Monsieur le Prince, not too far, you have all the Japanese restaurants.
- Polly Magoo (Rue Saint Jacques) Very overpriced bar. But nice looking. On the way from Latin Quarter to Shakespeare and Co.
- Monster Melody. Music Store. Expensive Cds. but nice underground atmosphere. Lots of bookstores and CD stores in Rue des Ecoles.
What you have to eat:
Petit pain au chocolat (in a boulangerie, a bakery)
Croissant (same thing)
Eclair au café (pastry, same thing)
Profiteroles (dessert, in a restaurant or something)
Crêpe (they sell them anywhere in the street)
Foie Gras (restaurant)
Escargots (you don't have to)
Champagne (of course)
Bonjour / Au revoir / Merci / Oui / Non
Je m'appelle Jim.
Où sont les toilettes (Where is the bathroom?)
Où est ... ? (Where is...) / Je cherche ... (I am looking for...)
Parlez-vous anglais? (Do you speak English?)
A plus ! (See ya!)
Va te faire foutre (Fuck off / Fuck you... might come in handy)
Un calamar géant a mangé ma voiture (a giant squid ate my car)
J'ai perdu mon chien (I lost my dog)
J'aime le pamplemousse. (I love grapefruits)
Je déteste les Francais (I hate the French)
Avez vous du beurre de cacahouette? (Do you have peanut butter?)
Send me a postcard. The number is 818, the rest is like your address...
Have fun in France.
Julie | | |
| This thing's a pretty ugly and dead engine, so I've decided to switch
over to a more exciting medium.
Paper.
True, this is a vanity and a
sin, but I'm a vain boy and a spectacular sinner as well, so perhaps it
will suit me well. Probably? If it doesn't, we'll never know; I'll
argue for it's greatness, etc.
When I get hold of my new computer and stop relying on those of my
school and roommates, I'll finally begin to transfer all the notes and
stories over to printable type, maybe with some illustration. I think
this will press me to be more creative and self-critical. Also, it
forces revision. Xanga usually doesn't, and is all to eager to publish
drunk ravings. Xerox machines teach you better. You see the same
mistakes 50 times and they start to sink in.
Will fill you in on my long awaited return to zinery. Zineing. Zineographing.
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| Here is the format that we at 814 w. 18th st. will require in regards to accepting all future couch-crashing applicants*. Sorry boys and girls, the standards have been raised.
From our friend Yoanna
Dear Sirs -
Please be concerned:
Your house, your couch and
your hearts happen to be on the itinerary of the grand fall tour of
Team De-Flower, composed of Marc "LadyBoy" G. , and Yoana
"Bulk-Area" Kuzmova.
We are scheduled to arrive less than 48 hours from now and hope
that you will receive us as previously stipulated (that is , with no
reservations and plenty of oral sex).
In other news, we hear
that Sir D. Foulk and Sir R. Misra are expected to be present as well.
Are you aware of such potential visitations? Would you welcome them?
You are expected to get back to us with your favorite kind of candy and your opinion on what is the best place to be in Chicago on your birthday. If you fail to produce either of those, just :"Hi" would be just fine.
As far as preferred amusements go - Sir Gottlieb, esq. and I
enjoy good conversation, with good lubrication (the occasional bottle
of wine) touristy pastimes (we're going to the Planetarium! and the
Zoo! and the fucking Sky Scrapers! and a Boxing Tournament!). We also
like to not spend all of our time together , because that much sexy in
the same room just gets tiring at some point. We'd love to help you
with your dish washing and homework, but most of all we'd like to help
you make your halloween costumes. We love the gays and their parades.
Most of all we love Kanye West's new video:
http://youtube.com/watch?v=PpwgYsYWwdc
To give you a better sense of what you're in for, see our resume attached.
Lastly: How do you stay faithful in a room full of hos ?
My digitz: -------------
Sunk in Anticipation,
Yo.
Hopefully they don't mind this exposure, but really, it's about time we raised the accommodation bar.
*Exceptions made for previous vagrants.
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| I can be such an idiot sometimes. I go through the days assuming so much. Like that just because I don't speak loudly or do foolish things in public (often) that I'm a superior or more clever specimen. What a bag of shit I am sometimes.
I must thank life for surrounding me with people that prove otherwise, if only to keep me humble and learning. It's the equivalent of the horse-hair underclothing that my 21st century life has escaped. Keep me close to the ground in all ways.
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