I killed the party again..

Paris was short and action packed. Ate some meals sent to me by the divine butter gods of garlic heaven, saw some large format Delacroix and Courbet, caught the Sonia Rykiel exhibit, drank more espressos than I could probably count on two hands, and even more red wine than that. Wore ridiculous shoes, rode on the back of a scooter in a mini skirt, the strong, dry, chilling nighttime winds whipping my fishnet-clad thighs, danced to absolutely atrocious club music.. ah, Paris. And yet, as a city.. I prefer New York.

More on Paris later perhaps. Just, you know, checking in.

The Single Life

'Alone in the apartment, he discovered himself to be a neat and thrifty housekeeper. When a woman left, he would promptly set about restoring his bachelor order, emptying the ashtrays which, if the visitor had been Ruth, brimmed with long pale bodies prematurely extinguished and, if Joan, with butts so short as to be scarcely more than filters.' -John Updike, 'Gesturing'

Ridhima

flickr.com/yellowcoat

St. Andrews is for lovers: A play in one very long, very hazy act (In Reverse)

"That's Fucking Funny"

"Envision us approaching and pounding on this door, increasingly hard. Pounding and pounding, not just wanting admission but needing it; we don't know what it is but we can feel it, this total desperation to enter, pounding and ramming and kicking. That, finally, the door opens... and it opens outward--we've been inside what we wanted all along. Das ist komisch." -David Foster Wallace, on Kafka (Consider the Lobster)

I have very little to look forward to.

"Home is where beds are made and butter is added to toast"

Compliments to the Chef..

And may all your Christmases be trite

Alive! She's alive! And almost made it through finals. The psychological burden of procrastination makes me forget how easy I have it, taking only three courses. American university--should it be in my future--is going to tear me apart. I've been trying to compile a list of things that would make staying here--should it be in my future--not so bad. So far, I have: living with Lucy. But I just started yesterday, so check back for updates! Not. Alright, I'm exhausted. Trying to rearrange one's sleep schedule is exhausting. But the days seem like they're worth so much more when I don't sleep through them. Sunlight is a valuable currency here. I'm considering bottling it up and bringing it back to people as Christmas presents--"Genuine, Scottish Sunlight! I know! It's unbelievable! ..A book? You got me.. a book? I got you Genuine Scottish Sunlight and you got me.. a book? What kind of friend are you? What the fuck is happening to my life?"

Merry Christmas, all.

MEH MEH MEH

How I feel about monster English Lit. papers, Art History finals, the drama wrought upon my existence by the Amtrak website, and the fact that I have to sit through two whole weeks of waiting before I get to snuggle up with my male of choice and get drunk with all my best friends. 

May your days be merry and bright!

This week was filled with drunken Christmas cheer and dreams of snow. Hibernation at its finest. Movie watching, scrabble playing, snuggling up like kittens. Wine drinking! Holiday charades. Waltzing in the middle of the street amidst a rogue patch of flurries. Hiding from the cold. Sliding around on icy sidewalks, trying not to fall. Boots, hats, scarves, big coats, big grins, no money, Otis Redding, and I'm going home soon. All before the beginnings of exam hell.

But I ain't been condemned yet!