My balcony this morning... By the way, do you know how hard it is to procure an American flag in Paris? I wish I was back in the States today, eating hot dogs and drinking beers at the beach. Sigh!
Friday, July 04, 2008
Thursday, July 03, 2008
My building's elevator, whose reliability was always dubious, finally gave up. My cute rooftop-view apartment in Montmartre therefore just became a 6th-floor walkup at the top of a hill. Oh well, it's good the glutes, I suppose...
Monday, June 30, 2008
Being stuck in an airplane for 9 hours has its advantages: you can catch up on Dexter's second season on your iPod, and you can ponder air travel's little annoyances and pleasures.
Yay:
Yay:
- Speeding towards the sunrise and all of a sudden realizing a day has passed and you're on another continent
- Flying over Greenland
- No BlackBerry or cell phone to monitor, no email either
- Comfy shoes, eye masks, breath mints
- The miles (which are bound to be soon declared null and void by all the airlines so let's redeem those babies while we still can!)
- The seat on which your ass will sit for the next 9 hours has been sat on for countless hours by countless asses - think about the number of farts that have gone through that foam and you, too, will use a home-brought blanket as a cushion next time; I wonder if I can fashion a sort of mini waterproof mattress pad...
- The cunty flight attendants, who are getting bitchier every time, and still insist upon wearing loud heels for the ladies and louder fake-tans for the guys
- The dumbasses who think an overhead bin is like a car's rusty trunk, and must be slammed shut every time
- The "food" that manages to get worse and worse (how is that even possible?!)
- The toilets with their creepy vacuum sucking sound
- The CBS crap they force-feed you on "CBS Eye on American"
- Kids
Labels: travel
Oy, I haven't updated this in 3 weeks? Ouch, sorry guys. You know how it goes: life takes over, travels whisk me somewhere only to return me a jetlagged heap of tiredness, etc. SO, let's recap.
Two weeks ago I went back to Chicago for a wonderful week at home. It started off with Andersonville's Midsommarfest with Josh, a sort of chill Pre-Pride festival with bands and cute shops and Miller beer and lesbians. After that, a few days at the office to earn my keep. Although in that case it was also very nice because in Paris I tend to work (or at least be tethered to my BlackBerry) until midnight, since the US offices are active until then, whereas in the US, at 5PM I'm outta there! I also had a few beers with Scott and Ryan at the wonderful Castaways on North Avenue Beach and, as usual, we couldn't stop gawking at all the hot boys running or rollerblading along the lakefront. The second weekend was a nice bonus, as I was supposed to be on my way back to Paris, but an unscheduled meeting in Chicago on Monday had me change my flight.
Not too many photos from Chicago, but I couldn't not post the giant vagina-esque blow-up thingie...
The flight back to Paris was a bit rough, as I came in on Tuesday morning only to go straight to work. And since I just can't sleep on planes, t'was tough to stay awake, especially around that 3PM time... Good news was I didn't have any meetings or anything that really required brain power. But still, staying awake was kinda torture all day until I could finally, pretty much, pass out as soon as I had crawled home.
Last weekend was family time. On Saturday I went to the Champagne region to see my aunt and her husband. They bought an old water mill that's the coolest shit ever. The property spans several mini-islands created by the diversion canal that was built to get water to the mill. They are now responsible for all those valves and bridges and all sorts of fun things for an geek like me to play with. Best part is, the river there is the Seine, which is kinda fun in a dorky way - though obviously it's kinda small so far upstream from Paris. We also went out for a ride with my Aunt's husband's sporty car (375 h.p. compressor engine!) and drove way, wayyy too fast down small country roads. The kind of acceleration that makes the blood rush to your brain - awesome! On a thankfully unrelated note, I also took the opportunity to buy a couple of cases of Champagne, which is cheaper than water there...
Of course, this means I missed Saturday's Paris' Pride on top of missing Chicago's. Dammit! Pride in Chicago is so fun: drinking with your friends on the street, randomly running into dozens of people you know, getting sunburned, bar-hopping. Le Siiigh! I need to stop this transatlantic life BS.
Now I'am all caught up. I can resume normal activities, and so can you...
Two weeks ago I went back to Chicago for a wonderful week at home. It started off with Andersonville's Midsommarfest with Josh, a sort of chill Pre-Pride festival with bands and cute shops and Miller beer and lesbians. After that, a few days at the office to earn my keep. Although in that case it was also very nice because in Paris I tend to work (or at least be tethered to my BlackBerry) until midnight, since the US offices are active until then, whereas in the US, at 5PM I'm outta there! I also had a few beers with Scott and Ryan at the wonderful Castaways on North Avenue Beach and, as usual, we couldn't stop gawking at all the hot boys running or rollerblading along the lakefront. The second weekend was a nice bonus, as I was supposed to be on my way back to Paris, but an unscheduled meeting in Chicago on Monday had me change my flight.
Not too many photos from Chicago, but I couldn't not post the giant vagina-esque blow-up thingie...
The flight back to Paris was a bit rough, as I came in on Tuesday morning only to go straight to work. And since I just can't sleep on planes, t'was tough to stay awake, especially around that 3PM time... Good news was I didn't have any meetings or anything that really required brain power. But still, staying awake was kinda torture all day until I could finally, pretty much, pass out as soon as I had crawled home.
Last weekend was family time. On Saturday I went to the Champagne region to see my aunt and her husband. They bought an old water mill that's the coolest shit ever. The property spans several mini-islands created by the diversion canal that was built to get water to the mill. They are now responsible for all those valves and bridges and all sorts of fun things for an geek like me to play with. Best part is, the river there is the Seine, which is kinda fun in a dorky way - though obviously it's kinda small so far upstream from Paris. We also went out for a ride with my Aunt's husband's sporty car (375 h.p. compressor engine!) and drove way, wayyy too fast down small country roads. The kind of acceleration that makes the blood rush to your brain - awesome! On a thankfully unrelated note, I also took the opportunity to buy a couple of cases of Champagne, which is cheaper than water there...
Of course, this means I missed Saturday's Paris' Pride on top of missing Chicago's. Dammit! Pride in Chicago is so fun: drinking with your friends on the street, randomly running into dozens of people you know, getting sunburned, bar-hopping. Le Siiigh! I need to stop this transatlantic life BS.
Now I'am all caught up. I can resume normal activities, and so can you...
Labels: life
Thursday, June 05, 2008
If you remember your Physics class from way back when, you'll surely remember the Second Law of Thermodynamics, right? In a nutshell, it says that entropy (or 'heat', 'useless energy', 'chaos') always increases in a closed system. If you blow cigarette smoke in the perfectly still air of an enclosed room, the smoke will dissipate - the molecules spread out to increase chaos as much as possible. In other words:
In New York's Soho neigborhood, sidewalks are narrow and full of people. And yet, somehow, order emerges from the chaos. People spontaneously walk on the right-hand side of the sidewalk, they cross each other like they would on the road, and they don't stop in the middle of "traffic" to light a cigarette, answer the phone, or look at a store's window. In Paris, all these rules fly out the window. If you walk towards someone on the sidewalk in Paris and you're both at the center of the sidewalk, there's an equal chance the person will step to the right or to the left. And a good chance they'll blow a puff of cigarette smoke exactly at the moment you do cross them. When exiting a building here, it is customary to just spring out - and not worry if you're going to step into someone's path.
People often say the French are rude, but I don't think that's accurate. The opposite of love is not hate, it's indifference. A Parisian will step on your toes, block your passage, blow smoke in your face, or bump into you, not because he hates you but because he just can't be bothered to care about you - too much work! A Parisian walking down the street is simply unaware of any other person on that street. Maybe they're missing a "civilization" gene - the one that makes you realize there are indeed people around you. So really, they're more aloof than rude. Not the most satisfying of excuses, to be sure...
In an isolated system, a process can occur only if it increases the total entropy [chaos] of the system.The French, ever the curious minds, subscribe to that one hundred percent, especially when they're walking on the sidewalk.
In New York's Soho neigborhood, sidewalks are narrow and full of people. And yet, somehow, order emerges from the chaos. People spontaneously walk on the right-hand side of the sidewalk, they cross each other like they would on the road, and they don't stop in the middle of "traffic" to light a cigarette, answer the phone, or look at a store's window. In Paris, all these rules fly out the window. If you walk towards someone on the sidewalk in Paris and you're both at the center of the sidewalk, there's an equal chance the person will step to the right or to the left. And a good chance they'll blow a puff of cigarette smoke exactly at the moment you do cross them. When exiting a building here, it is customary to just spring out - and not worry if you're going to step into someone's path.
People often say the French are rude, but I don't think that's accurate. The opposite of love is not hate, it's indifference. A Parisian will step on your toes, block your passage, blow smoke in your face, or bump into you, not because he hates you but because he just can't be bothered to care about you - too much work! A Parisian walking down the street is simply unaware of any other person on that street. Maybe they're missing a "civilization" gene - the one that makes you realize there are indeed people around you. So really, they're more aloof than rude. Not the most satisfying of excuses, to be sure...
Labels: france
Friday, May 30, 2008
Tuesday was Scott's birthday and his last night in town, so we packed up a bottle of bubbly, disposable flutes, and headed for the Tower. We were met by a storm of epic proportions (which at least had the advantage of weeding out the tourists) but carried on and had a fab time.
Labels: paris
Of course, I want to see the SATC movie. I'm dying to. But I still read reviews to make sure I will not be disappointed by a giant piece of crap (Indiana Jones and the Skull thingie, I'm looking at you). Here's how the review in the Times starts:
The rest of the review is pretty much along those lines. So I ask my dear readers to chime in: yay, or nay?
A little Botox goes a long way in “Sex and the City,” but a little decent writing would have gone even further.Ouch, Gray Lady, you are such a frenemy!
The rest of the review is pretty much along those lines. So I ask my dear readers to chime in: yay, or nay?
Labels: cinema
Monday, May 26, 2008
Went out this weekend with Scott and Ludovic to my favorite haunts from back in the day - les Bains Douches and la Loco. It was totally awesome, of course, and the boys were quite sexy (deep V-neck T-shirts are mandatory here, apparently). It was wild to be in those clubs again, after, oh, 15 years... La Loco, especially, was exactly as I remembered it. The barman even made a mistake on my drink and served me a Malibu and Orange, which was my drink of choice as a teen (so sickly sweet!). Ah... Memories!!
Labels: pictures
Sunday, May 18, 2008
The stunning Promenade piece by Richard Serra at the Grand Palais. in one of the most imposing interior spaces in the city, the artist erected five 75-ton metal plates, engaging the visitor to stroll through the 14,000 sqm floor and gaze at the sun's reflections on the Cor Ten steel. Wild.
Saturday, May 17, 2008
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