May 5th, 2006
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Republique
[While reading, listen to the sounds of my first Parisian subway ride (1MB). This woman's voice was so beautiful and full of unspoken words that I was taut with emotion by the time she left.]
Yesterday was an assortment of experiences, nearly all subdued and inconsequential. However, somehow I stumbled into a fit of paranoia at Luxembourg Park at dusk. It was weird, like the rush of fear and lack of control that occasionally follow the mixing of narcotics, though all I had was cheap wine. I suppose it could be called an anxiety attack. I’m not sure if it was chemical or stress-induced. I suppose the answer is probably, “Yes.” In any case, it was disturbing and has left me feeling guilty and insecure, as if I drank way too much and made an ass of myself, even though absolutely nothing happened.
Now I’m sitting on a bench in front of the Republique and wishing I’d brought my jacket and tall socks. It’s nowhere near as warm today as yesterday, and as of eleven it remains overcast, feeling very much of autumn in New England.
There are no open container laws that I can tell, and trash cans (bags) are in abundance. I am frustrated but gradually loosening. I think that I didn’t have any expectations for this to be a relaxing vacation, I only hoped for blue skies and sunshine to cast a lace net of crisp shadows over all of my photographs. I want to explore, and tumble loosely over the delicacies of almost not being, like a sigh of release and acquiescence in the middle of flexing practice. To stretch and crumble, I am cold and flowers are artificially installed, like at Disneyland. So much disrespect saddens and is reflected in me. Who/what do I disrespect? Me. At least there’s a NY style pizzeria every forty feet.
