The PPP #80
Paris in June. GoodEnough with David Rosenfeld
Happy Phriday
In the last two weeks, I tried to eat my way through Paris, Brussels, Amsterdam, and Bruges. When I got home, I discovered that I had lost weight. I guess it was from all the walking and no fast food.
So, please indulge me as I rant on about my adventures. Paris is a work of art filled with works of art. And I saw a lot of it.
Yes, I was in the scrum to see the Mona Lisa. It was not how I wanted to see the old girl. Maybe you saw on Monday they closed the Louvre because the workers had had enough. And I don’t blame them. This is no way to view these masterpieces. But on the same note, a few rooms over, you can stand and look at a Renoir or a van Gogh all day long without interference.
So what is the magic of Mona Lisa?
Shakespeare and Company
Quote I am Considering
There are moments, above all on June evenings, when the lakes that hold our moons are sucked into the earth, and nothing is left but wine and the touch of a hand. Charles Morgan
Sammie’s Journal: Written In Paris In June
To late I am sitting alone in an apartment on Av George V, Paris France They’ve all gone out for Jelly Cats I’ve done the floor routine. 50 push-ups 50 crunches 50 triceps I’ve had three cappuccinos I am fighting with this shitty pencil sharpener I drank enough of their wine this week I’ve seen Paris-pretty And it is pretty It walks in a certain way As such I have the urge to smack it on the ass I have the urge to smoke cigarettes, too Did I mention I’ve drank all their wine I had my pocket picked in the metro He only got my choo-choo train bandana We made eye contact And went our separate ways I walked on top off and through and under The Arch de Triumph There I watch them lay a remembrance wreath On the tomb of the unknown soldier Directed by a man who dressed like Charles de Gaulle I watched the Strawberry moon rise up Between the brown legs of the Eiffel Tower For a few days I lived a bit like Hemingway and Pound and Stine and Rimbaud I bought a book in Shakespeare and Company I ate strange, strong cheeses served by A man who waxed the tips of his mustache He smiled in the French way I winked at Mona Lisa I watched my granddaughter sit For portrait in a shady Place du Tertre On Montmartre Surrounded by other artists selling their works And a few goddamn poets mucking about, too Goddamn poets I’ve read that you dream differently when you’re in Paris I have been dreaming differently I wondered how a city so big can be so quiet I wondered if I could have lived here I wonder if I could have learned to cross a street as they do I wonder if a place can affect one’s writing I wonder what a French pencil sharpener looks like I wonder how and when my pencil got so short Smack There you go, Paris
Mike’s Friday Funnies: Baggage
I just told my luggage there will be no vacations this year. Now I’m dealing with emotional baggage. Don’t you just hate that situation when you’re picking up your baggage at the airport, and everyone’s is better than yours? It's my worst case scenario. At the airport today a man fainted and slumped over onto the baggage carousel. He slowly came around. If my son from Kansas was being stubborn before a flight, could I check him with my luggage? Or would I have to carry on my wayward son? A mathematician is afraid of flying due to the risk of a terrorist attack. So, on every flight he takes a bomb with his hand luggage. "The probability of having a bomb on a plane is very low", he reasons, "and the probability of having two bombs on the same plane is virtually zero." A man approaches an airline ticket desk and as he books his flight, asks the attendant if one of his 3 pieces of baggage could be sent to Paris, another to London, and the third to Cairo. "That’s impossible, I’m afraid sir", the attendant replies. "We can’t send your baggage to 3 different cities." The man says," Well, you did it the last time I flew your airline."
GoodEnough: David Rosenfeld
This week Mark and Sam talk with journalist and author, David Rosenfeld. We talk about the craft and process of writing. Is it pen or keyboard? Where inspirations come from. Who are his journalistic/literary heroes. David teases his his new novel he is working.
Throat Punch Poetry: June Is My Favorite Month
By S. Lewis
I was born in February and June is the first month I can remember.
June is a word I like to write. June is a state of mind. June is a book of love poems that don’t rhyme. June is the longest day of the year. June is when summer must begin around here. June has no ides of March. June has the flowers and bees instead. June makes us forget about December. June is the only month that can beat April. June has evenings we wish to remember. June brings in the season of warm beer. June is the stolen kiss in the cool shade. June taste like Paris. June was named after my mother.
Moment of Zen
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I like this. Great stuff. Thanks for having me on the podcast.