October 22, 2004
street life is really a form of cinema
Today is Friday. I’m going to Paris next Thursday, the 28th. Six days. Good. That means I’m not pissed off any more.
Why am I going? Well, I found a room, I found some work, I need a change.
I’m working on a book and I need to get away from it all to allow me room to think.
I have some new business ideas and I want to play around with them for a bit, before I nail their colors to the mast. A Parisian cybercaf
Hugh, does that mean that you’re actually moving to Paris?
Paris rocks. Moving rocks. I would say that I envy you but then I’ve just moved cities myself and am still in my own honeymoon period.
Best of luck. May all your dreams come true.
I enjoy your blog and enjoy Paris, alot. Good point about the spirit of the people and the women. In my early 20’s I found them ALL interesting and attracive. Of course, I was short on sleep and pretty horny. Come to think of it, I’d probably still find them ALL attractive.
Have a good trip.
I’ve always enjoyed people watching in France but overlooked the obvious fact of the chair positioning.
I look forward to hearing more about Hugh’s view of Paris…
Hugh living in Paris. This is going to be fun.
In New Orleans, the bars are still lively and lucid at midnight as well. Last call is a study in desperation.
My first observation about bars in Ann Arbor, Michigan. They are stubby little things. In New Orleans, the bar starts at the door and goes all the way to the back of the establishment. If you want a drink you go to the bar. In Ann Arbor the bar is where you wait for your table.
Clarification, there is no last call in New Orleans. Drinking stops at two in Michigan, so bars are hopping for one hour three nights a week.
My last point was about culture shock. The reverse of what you are about to experience. I just moved from a French city to a German village. I am struck by how private the public spaces are.
Good luck. Cheers.
i’m greeeen with envy…
Any chance to buy you a drink when in Paris ?
Just give a call.
Jean-Christophe
Paris is cinema. Manhattan is one long establishment shot with crowds muttering “rhubarb rhubarb.” And San Francisco, where I live, is the kinky, bipolar and very attractive upstairs neighbor.
Books can be written by the miserable and pissed off. But the process is much more satisfying if the writer is content about the basic human needs: beauty, good food and coffee, and gonadal sparks. So eat, drink, leer, and write write write.