Friday, December 3, 2010
Nights.
i woke up in by bed with someones wallet, another persons cell phone, and the license plate to a moped next to me
Tuesday, November 23, 2010
Step 1
It’s 16:02.
It’s raining; gently, but effectively. The tiny droplets are dampening the passerbys. I observe the outcome of the reaction. Some hurry along, avoiding the rain as if it were acid. Some walk slowly, appreciating the beauty of the gentle raindrops. Me? I’m sitting at a café, watching this ludicrous world pass by. One glass of Bordeaux red wine on my right, an elderly lady drinking an espresso with her dog on my left. This is the moment I’ve been waiting for. The perfect moment. It’s time to create a blog.
My mind begins to drift off. The world turns black and white, and I begin to drift off into deep though. “What should I write about?” I ask myself. Memories begin to resurface. Pictures of Oktoberfest, Clubs, Ocean, Casinos, Feces, Jackass, Bars, and Crazies clog my mind like vomit in a kitchen sink. Where do I even start? Thoughts go in and out of my head like a Parisian Metro before ending in a tangent. I begin to grasp my starting point-
“Monseiur. voulez-vous rien d'autre,” interrupted the stereotypical French waiter with his tuxedo vest and horrid body odor. The color in the world turns back on. I snap out of my deep thoughts.
“Non, merci beaucoup. J'étais sur le point de quitter," I replied nonchalantly.
It appears I have overstayed my welcome. I grab my things, pay the 5 euro bill, and start walking down the streets of Paris.
It’s raining; gently, but effectively. The tiny droplets are dampening the passerbys. I observe the outcome of the reaction. Some hurry along, avoiding the rain as if it were acid. Some walk slowly, appreciating the beauty of the gentle raindrops. Me? I’m sitting at a café, watching this ludicrous world pass by. One glass of Bordeaux red wine on my right, an elderly lady drinking an espresso with her dog on my left. This is the moment I’ve been waiting for. The perfect moment. It’s time to create a blog.
My mind begins to drift off. The world turns black and white, and I begin to drift off into deep though. “What should I write about?” I ask myself. Memories begin to resurface. Pictures of Oktoberfest, Clubs, Ocean, Casinos, Feces, Jackass, Bars, and Crazies clog my mind like vomit in a kitchen sink. Where do I even start? Thoughts go in and out of my head like a Parisian Metro before ending in a tangent. I begin to grasp my starting point-
“Monseiur. voulez-vous rien d'autre,” interrupted the stereotypical French waiter with his tuxedo vest and horrid body odor. The color in the world turns back on. I snap out of my deep thoughts.
“Non, merci beaucoup. J'étais sur le point de quitter," I replied nonchalantly.
It appears I have overstayed my welcome. I grab my things, pay the 5 euro bill, and start walking down the streets of Paris.
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