ni l'un ni l'autre

Thank you Mike for The Velvet Underground. I could almost stop feeling the need to perfectize everything I do as I listen to the dear band. Maybe I could relax more if I sounded like Nico.

Sometimes I sit in class and I'll stop trying to think in French and then billions of sounds will cascade out of mes professeurs' and my classmates' mouths and I'll just sit there and wonder, why am I doing this? Why exactly have I chosen French over other languages? It's one of those things I picked up in my head or some fiber of my being and I've been running with it ever since. Growing up periodically mon père me parlait en français and I would have to guess what he was saying. I knew "n'est-ce pas" before I knew "modicum." I am generally a happy little pearl in the francophile oyster here at uni...The other day I almost ran into someone in a hallway and I said "Désolé." Yet that's not even quite correct, I should have said, "pardonnez-moi."

HIBERNATING UNTIL SPRING:
In the air. Spring, step, sugar.
Something.
Sew a few sequins onto my best shirt and dance it up a little.
I really just need to pump things up.
Take risks.
Take up poker.
“
Pump up the jam
Pump it up*
“
Grab it all in my hand and throw it up to the wind and sunlight.
Float away like doves and the glitter dances down and gets caught in our eyelashes. Then the dance floor closes in and we step to the left. step to the right. snap our hips to the beat. clap our hands. spin under strobe. dream under spot light.

*Technotronics