mere documentation

on friday, it was a sunny spring day: i was filled up with that kinetic energy that can only be released with motion, so i ran down rue saint jacques all the way to the seine. it was my first day at shakespeare & company & i was very very nervous. i wanted to make sure i was doing everything right. i alphebetized the bandes dessinees & organized the poetry, rearranged french literature & stocked the new fiction. a drunk cowboy stumbled in, speaking no language at all, threw a book into the well & was escorted out by g. as the sun set, the christmas tree in front of notre dame lit up & the skeletal trees lining the seine began to take on that ethereal, golden glow from the floodlights of the houseboats. j, h, m & i -- representing canada from east to west -- went for cheap sushi & miso soup, cupping the bowls in our hands for warmth as we talked about canadian pride & couture clothing.

saturday, i went running for the first time since i've been in paris: around the luxembourg gardens, through the port royal market, along rue gay-lussac, lost in the 13e arrondissement, & back to pick up my laundry. that evening, laurent, laurent & i dressed up in our finest -- laurent #2 wore a fox-fur stole -- & took a taxi to number 1 rue de rivoli, right next to saint paul & in the core of the marais. laurent #2's boyfriend was dj-ing at this house party, though we knew none of the hosts. giving the name that was given to us to the doorman, he allowed us to enter the dove gray foyer. when we got out of the elevator at the fourth floor, blondie was booming from the closed door that opened just as we reached it. mid-thirties & late-twenties minglers clutched champagne tumblers in the foyer & the three of us, in our second-hand finery, were still. after a moment, we silently & unanimously decided to enjoy ourselves (or, at least, that was what i was thinking). i walked straight to the food table, having not really eaten since breakfast, which was spread with fresh baguettes, pates, cheeses, & foie gras. i poured myself a glass of white & settled onto the couch facing the dance floor with floor-to-ceiling windows looking out onto rivoli. after dancing, i was resting my sore legs & pretending to fuss around with my mobile. a man approached me & said that i had an "air de tristesse, de melancholie." i was offended, but i think it was a case of mistranslation. he meant introverted, thoughtful, reserved; traits that stood out at a fully-catered, open-bar, live-dj party. "la plupart des gens succombent a la fete, mais toi..."

sunday, jane & i went to the galleria near the palais de tokyo to see the fashion exhibit on les annees folles, twenties fashion: i think it was the same exhibit that was at the MET in the summer: paul poiret, lanvin, chanel, josephine dancing. i was going to end it, but he brought me chocolate & wildflowers.

today i set my alarm but forgot to turn it on. i missed psychology class. it might have been a freudian slip.