my temporary parisian home

the cutest apartment ever in the best city on earth, and it's going to be all mine for 40 glorious days and 39 wonderful nights this summer. my photography class [more like a workshop, through parsons school of design] meets for something like five hours a day, five days a week, for four weeks ... that's like, a minimum of a hundred hours that i am guaranteed to be taking and printing and discussing and critiquing pictures.. in paris, my favorite city in the whole world.. AFTER two months in london, and eleven morrissey shows.

if my plane should crash on the way back to america, and i should be buried alive in the wreckage, never to be seen or heard from again .. or my seat cushion proves less-than-adequate as a flotation device and i end up sinking to the deepest depths of the atlantic... or if the cabin pressure drops, and i notice that the elderly person seated next to me is having trouble with their oxygen mask, and despite the flight attendants' instructions, (because i am a nice and empathetic person with a tendency to put the needs of others before my own), i assist them with their mask BEFORE ensuring that mine is secured and end up suffocating to death.. or hijackers manage to elude the vigilant security screeners at charles de gaulle airport and threaten myself and my fellow passengers with box cutters (or any other sharp, meanacing, potentially lethal [i suppose, if you spent like two hours making enough cuts in your victim that they eventually bled to death, or died of boredom] [incidentally, that would give the pilot/crew more than enough time to notify someone on the ground of the situation, get a fighter jet escort or whatever, and make an emergency landing at a safe and secure location ... in fact, even if there were, say, eight or nine bearded and turbaned brown men brandishing box cutters, each with a brand-spanking-new, virgin razor blade, i doubt they could even finish off 25% of the passengers before the plane landed safely, and it would be sad if 25% of the people on the plane had to perish, but that still leaves 75% of the passengers who, between the lawsuits, the publicity, and the movie/book deals, would ultimately probably come out of the whole thing a lot better off (at least financially) than when they got on the plane in the first place... even if you're one of those people who believe that each and every human life is equally as valuable as the next, first of all, you're wrong, and second of all, you can't argue with the numbers, because numbers don't lie, and any fool can see that 75 is obviously > 25. put it this way... if life > death but those motherfuckers are persistent and those razor blades are sharp as hell, so some amount of death is inevitable, a 75/25 split is still a pretty fucking good outcome. it's way more than a simple majority. seventy-five cents is practically a dollar. i mean ... if you have seventy-five cents, but you really, really want to buy something that costs a dollar, you could probably manage to scrounge up twenty-five more cents to make it happen. yes, you might have to dig around in the cracks in the sofa.. check the car and the pockets of all your pants and jackets.. purses, too ,if you're a lady [or perhaps even if you are not; to each their own]... hit up the coin return slots on a few pay phones or vending machines.... recycle some cans... ask passers-by.. sell some shit on ebay.... take all the pennies in the free penny dish at the register.. if you really wanted it bad enough, you'd do what you had to do and i bet you would eventually end up with twenty-five more cents, at the very least. maybe more. who knows. maybe it would turn out to be your lucky fucking day and you'd find a winning lottery ticket, or meet the man/woman of your dreams when he/she stops on the sidewalk to drop a nickel in your cup, or maybe your carrie necklace was actually in your bag that whole time and it just slipped through a hole in the lining and you were freaking out over nothing and big ['john'? wtf?] is on his way to save you from that creepy pretentious bastard mikhail baryshnikov, take you back to new york, and restore balance to the force. whatever. point is, it's the same thing, really.] my initial point is that after the amazing things that are going to happen this spring and summer, i could die feeling as though i had lived a full and interesting and wonderful life.

well, to be precise, i would be feeling as though i had lived a full and interesting life, and then die, and whether or not i felt anything at all after that point is something that i don't believe anyone who is presently alive can ever really know for certain.. but that's another topic for another time.


click here to see my (technically "potential", but it's practically a done deal) lovely, temporary, parisian summer home. it is on the left bank, in the 14th arrondissement, near montparnasse and some lovely parks and a few hospitals and the sorbonne. it has a fucking balcony AND its own bathroom! no sharing! ALL MINE! omg omg omg can't wait can't wait can't wait!!!