RATATATOOT

Let’s just sit down in this cozy corner here and talk, yeah? It’s been ages since I’ve seen your face, seen it without a screen of pixels, heard your voice without the shred of distance. There’s water boiling for ginger tea and this cheese plate will not disappoint. Did you know that taxi rides through a Parisian night are not always beautiful? I did forget to download some Hemingway to read in hommage to Midnight in Paris (2011) but that wouldn’t have changed the fact that when I’m up in Montmarte the route home is all industrial and/or Euro expressway tunnels. The expressway tunnels feel particularly European because I’ve never driven through such things at night in any other country. At least not ones so large with such narrow lanes and narrow cars.

Last night––before the taxi ride but after I forced myself out of my house even though I was tired and it was 9:00pm and I felt like a crazy person for leaving my inviting bed nook, books, and the Sherlock episode I was rewatching––I was on the RER into Paris, looking around singing to myself, “I’m in France. This is France. This is a French train. How does it feel to be in a French train?” It feels surreal. The world around me is functioning in a banal way and I’m having what they call an adventure. Did you know that the root meaning of the word adventurer is “one who gobbles banality and toots glitter”?

In practice, it is not always gobbled and glitter is not always realized. Though tooting is a regular part of life adventure or no. The surreality and the reason for singing to myself is because it’s hard to remember I’m living a dream. My brain and body want to function at a mellow, drone-like pace, letting my soul take frequent naps. This is why I force myself out even when it feels painful to set aside my obsessive desire to be a hermit.

So last night I spent some time at a bar where there was not any couscous as had been planned but there was a hearty sing-a-long to the Spice Girls’ “If you wanna be my lover” and at a second bar which is named after the lead singer of Metalica. I missed going to the house of some new friends but since Sundays I must be up by 8:00 and the possibility of a nap is slim, I took my taxi out.

P.S. I now say my postal code like a pro. Glitter toot.