Do you ever notice the trivial nuances of the world around you? I notice the smallest, miniscule details of the people with whom I come in contact. Take my co-worker, for instance. Everytime she opens a computer folder, she changes the view of the documents from “icon” to “list”. Everytime. Even if there are only three documents in the folder; she takes the extra two seconds to change the view. Why? There must be a reason. She must have a tick. Maybe one day I will ask her.
Or, yesterday, on the metro. I was on sensory overload. An old man in an American style cowboy hat and boots was playing a guitar for money. He had a little amp stand and a mic. He played songs that had happy melodies, but they only served to make me sad. I don’t really know why. On the other end of the metro car was a group of elementary school kids on a field trip with their teachers. They were laughing and singing. All the other passengers looked cold, their faces taut with angry expressions.
Look of Love ~ Diana Krall
I am content. I have everything I need. Moist chocolate cake, shot of espresso, jazz music, good conversation, cozy little French café. I could spend my whole life in a café, watching people as they come and go, eavesdropping on vibrant table conversations.
Saturday, October 27, 2007
Monday, October 22, 2007
Mad Professors
I just have to share with you one of the worst jokes I have ever heard in my entire life. Ironically enough, I almost pee’d my pants laughing.
“I tried ballroom dancing one time. I was really confused. I walked into the ballroom but I didn’t see any balls………………………………… Ya know, like basketballs, or baseballs, or maybe even just a little golf ball. Nothing.”
“Double Jeu” ~Christophe Willem
Wednesday, October 10, 2007
Thursday, October 4, 2007
Beaujolais 2006
“Dream when you’re feeling blue. Dream, and they might come true. Dream. Dream. Dream.”
As I sit perched on my balcony with a glass of red wine, I can’t imagine being anywhere else. I’m watching the activity taking place in neighboring buildings. Lights turn on and off as I get a quick peek into illuminated living rooms. The man across the street reminds me of an old Winston. He has a mélange of beautiful pictures and painting hung on huge walls throughout his house. I often wonder what it really looks like inside. Does he ever think of me? Maybe one of these days he will invite me in. There is a man in the building next to me that comes out at precisely 9:00pm every night to light a cigarette. We often nod a hello to each other. The soft perfume of the housemate below me often floats its way to my window. I can smell it now. It reminds me of strawberries and pomegranates. A car drives by blaring American 80’s grooves. What a funny country this is!
Dream ~ Michael Bubble.
As I sit perched on my balcony with a glass of red wine, I can’t imagine being anywhere else. I’m watching the activity taking place in neighboring buildings. Lights turn on and off as I get a quick peek into illuminated living rooms. The man across the street reminds me of an old Winston. He has a mélange of beautiful pictures and painting hung on huge walls throughout his house. I often wonder what it really looks like inside. Does he ever think of me? Maybe one of these days he will invite me in. There is a man in the building next to me that comes out at precisely 9:00pm every night to light a cigarette. We often nod a hello to each other. The soft perfume of the housemate below me often floats its way to my window. I can smell it now. It reminds me of strawberries and pomegranates. A car drives by blaring American 80’s grooves. What a funny country this is!
Dream ~ Michael Bubble.
Coupe du Monde de Rugby 2007
I’ve decided that I like trains. Riding the train is like being a kid again. I feel warm and cozy, wrapped up in the backseat of my mom’s stationwagon, slowly falling asleep to the lull and sway of the engine’s purr. I feel relaxed, pleasant, unassuming. Watching the other travelers in my car, I make up stories about their lives. He is a doctor from Lyon going to a conference in Paris. She has three more children at home, but this one is her favorite. She is his mistress. He hates cheese. Get a room already. I like her shoes.
On the train you can be anyone you want to be. No one knows you and no one dare break the silence to ask. Everything is declared in an intricate display of body language and facial expression.
The train stations. What a vibrant mass of energy. People coming and going. Lovers embracing. Tears. Laughter. Such powerful emotion.
« Jacques est un rêve, pas un homme. »
Eventually my train makes it to Paris and I am awakened from my dream. Oh, Paris. As much as the train reminds me of my youth, Paris pulls me out of it. The city is so romantic and daring, full of lustful energy. One glance at the Eiffel Tower and you realize why. Everything is beautiful, from the gold-laden bridges under your feet to the intricate gargoyles laughing at you from the rooftops. It makes you want to be beautiful, and then garnish yourself with a creamy white scarf.
Jacques a dit ~ Christophe Willem
On the train you can be anyone you want to be. No one knows you and no one dare break the silence to ask. Everything is declared in an intricate display of body language and facial expression.
The train stations. What a vibrant mass of energy. People coming and going. Lovers embracing. Tears. Laughter. Such powerful emotion.
« Jacques est un rêve, pas un homme. »
Eventually my train makes it to Paris and I am awakened from my dream. Oh, Paris. As much as the train reminds me of my youth, Paris pulls me out of it. The city is so romantic and daring, full of lustful energy. One glance at the Eiffel Tower and you realize why. Everything is beautiful, from the gold-laden bridges under your feet to the intricate gargoyles laughing at you from the rooftops. It makes you want to be beautiful, and then garnish yourself with a creamy white scarf.
Jacques a dit ~ Christophe Willem
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