life is terribly, entirely exciting. half of those words I got from the sidewalk by my apartment. but I haven't even told you, imaginary blogworld, about my new house, so this is difficult. here's what I'm going to do. I'm not going to edit pictures, because I really don't have the time to be doing even this and photoshop will suck my life away, but I'm going to rain down a smattering of photos from the past, what, two months? just a sampling, so then later I can procrastinate more intelligently with posts about the elections and my deepening thoughts about immigration and integration. or possibly just ennumerate the vastness of crazy fucking people I encounter day by day now that the heat is on in the city.
but here, first, a pictoral timeline:

I come back from Madrid. then, weeks later, I remember to take my camera with me one day.
here is dearest Abby turning nineteen, and being quite cute while she's at it:


then luckily, the next day I still had my camera in my bag when Tristan and I walked out of his building and into the Chinese New Year parade.
here is a dragon putting the moves on a motorcycle:


later that day came another photograph worth throwing off my already uneven timeline. children should definitely not see this, which is inconvenient since it's on full display by the Seine.
here is the strangest:


a couple days later Jason Webley came to Paris! twice! the second time he played his accordion with Tristan's head and he treasured the scarring.
here is Jason Webley in another nearly unlit room:


sometime after that everything changed. I found an amazing appartment in Montmartre, my parents came for a fantastic visit, spring came to stay for longer still, and I didn't take any pictures of anything (but I have been painting!).
here is where I live now:


later still came St Patrick's Day, which I celebrated by a trip to hear early music at the medevial museum and later by getting very drunk.
here is something in between:


christ, I don't know, this is getting to be a bit much. anyway, some days later into spring Paris was doing something fantastic and I noticed it.
here is the line where natural meets man-made beauty:


that same night I suddenly had friends, which was cool. all the way to the right is french whasshisname who intended to vote Sarkozy, to the left is lovely big-haired Coline I only met the once but who miraculously studied anthropology, then are adorable Miko with a guru great grandfather and in the polka dots is Gurutze, one of the coolest ever.
here is a sushi dinner:

after this come visits by Peter and Jake; vacations and more vacations; good things and so many good things--but all producing altogether to many photos to start in on right now. tomorrow and tomorrow!

Hidden Cities

"A sibyl, questioned about Marozia's fate, sad, 'I see two cities: one of the rat, one of the swallow.'
"This was the interpretation of the oracle: today Marozia is a city where all run through leaden passages like packs of rats who tear from one another's teeth the leftovers which fall from the teeth of the most voracious ones; but a new century is about to begin in which all the inhabitants of Marozia will fly like swallows in the summer sky, calling one another as in a game, showing off, their wings still, as they swoop, clearing the air of mosquitos and gnats.
" 'It is time for the century of the rat to end and the century of the swallow to begin,' the more determined said. In fact, already beneath the grim and petty rattish dominion, you could sense, among the less obvious people a pondering, the preparation of a swallowlike flight, heading for the transparent air with a deft flick of the tail, then tracing with their wings' blade the curve of an opening horizon.
"I have come back to Marozia after many years: for some time the sybil's prophecy is considered to have come true; the old century is dead and burried, the new is at its climax. The city has surely changed, and perhaps for the better. But the wings I have seen moving about are those of suspicious umbrella under which heavy eyelids are lowered; there are people who believe they are flying, but it is already an achievement if they can get off the ground flapping their batlike overcoats.
"It also happens that, if you move along Marozia's compact walls, when you least expect it, you see a crack open and a different city appear. Then, an instant later, it has already vanished. Perhaps everything lies in knowing what words to speak, what actions to perform, and in what order and rhythm; or else someone's gaze, answer, gesture is enough; it is enough for someone to do something for the sheer pleasure of doing it, and for his pleasure to become the pleasure of others: at that moment, all spaces change, all heights, distances; the city is transfigured, becomes crystalline, transparent as a dragonfly. But everything must happen as if by chance, without attaching too much importance to it, without insisting that you are performing a decisive operation, remembering clearly that any moment the old Maroziawill return and solder its ceiling of stone, cobwebs, and mold over all heads.
"Was the oracle mistaken? Not necessarily. I interpret it in this way: Marozia consists of two cities, the rat's and the swallow's; both change with time, but their relationship does not change; the second is the one about to free itself from the first."

from Invisible Cities, by Italo Calvino



I was sad to think that so many of my thoughts on Paris and this year would go unrecorded and very likely unremembered in my passive refusal to update this log, blog, clog consistently. but then, in rereading this wonderful book first introduced to me by my very first class at college, I breathed a sigh of relief and realization--Calvino's said it all for me, and quite often exactly the way I would have wanted to say it. it's a fine book, and far more meaningful to me after having experienced the idea of a city for myself.

but! I didn't post just so say, "read this book, 'cause lord knows I won't be providing any reading material here." this post is to revive my interest in this medium and hopefully inspire some itsy picture posts, at the very least. no, I'll tell all or something no lots! yes, I'll tell lots, and soon, but not now. not that anyone is reading this now, ha! that is a bonus of neglect...