I’ve been reading a fair amount of books during my days here in Paris. I hypothesize that the increased number of train rides are responsible, plus I don’t have a TV that will speak to me in English. At the risk of sounding pompous, there are a couple quotes from a recently read literary gem that truly deserve their time in the spotlight.
”I say, beware of all enterprises that require new clothes, and not rather a new wearer of clothes. If there is not a new man, how can the 
new clothes be made to fit? If you have any new enterprise before you, try it in your old clothes…perhaps we should never procure a new suit, however ragged or dirty the old, until we have so conductd, so enterprised, or sailed away in some way, that we feel like new men in the old, and that to retain it would be like keeping new wine in old bottles.”
“Those things for which the most money is demanded are never the things which the student most wants. Tuition, for example, is an important item in the term bill, while for the far more valuable education which he gets by associating with the most cultivated of his contemporaries no charge is made.”
“I rejoice that there are owls. Let them do the idiotic and maniacal hooting for men…they represent the stark twilight and unsatisfied thoughts that all have.”
dsf
where it is possible to heave bread across a table with impunity, or perhaps start an ill-advised slap fight with a member of your entourage. After all, there is no spillage to fear! Unfortunately, due to a late arrival – of which I may have been a part of but not ultimately responsible for – the reservation was voided and an alternative establishment was chosen. Thus preceded my plate of paté, of which we shall never again speak of again.
There is no Cola region of the USA, no town called Texas Pete’s Hot Sauce, no food or wine named Pacific Northwest or Gulf States. One could make the argument for Chicago style deep dish, I suppose, but I think the only comparison would be if the state of Illinois was actually named Pizza. Same things goes for BBQ. I’m sure I’m missing some example (possibly many, really), but whenever I look at a map of the USA I don’t think to myself, “Cleveland! That’s a sauce!”
British Sea Power was the target band this evening, and the only disappointment was that I did not arrive even later than I did. The opening band was, to be kind, sub par. It consisted of a skinny, somewhat scruffy kid with a guitar and a spotlight. The first song I was subjected to included a girl sitting on the stage at his feet, with a guitar that she would sometimes tap. I at first wondered if the tapping of the guitar was actually supposed to be happening. The whole phenomenon appeared odd, as if a bold audience member just decided to park herself on stage. Slowly, painfully, I realized the girl’s tapping was intentional and was probably supposed to be considered creative. It reminded me of a painting, of which the artist says, “My finest work! It represents the intrepid human spirit, guided by the ghosts of time among the ruins of pride and the sands of hopelessness. Notice how the mountains climbing out of the waters of despair rise among the clouds of rebirth, where the birds of unity soar!” Then when you look at the canvas you think to yourself, “What the f, it’s not art it’s just green and orange triangles.” The kid sang in English, but spoke in French so I can only assume that he was apologizing to the audience between songs.
favorite show had been. Turns out it was some little bar located high up in the hills of England, where sheep had wandered around inside while the band was performing. That would have been a sight to see, especially if sheep have a secret sense of rhythm.
