New Thoughts on Old Themes

Went to a party at Place Clichy. Arthur's flat. I had never been there before, but went after having a few drinks with Clement, his girlfriend Angel, and Yohann, who is one of the best guitar players I know. Arthur has a Wii, and I think we played every game on it. The only downside was that he only had one controller for some reason, so we had to alternate in order to play. I think I held my own at Wii bowling, where I teamed up with Angel and we won, and also Wii boxing. I didn't do so bad for having played only once before. I kept asking to play Super Smash Bros.(the Wii is backwards-compatible with Gamecube games), but Arthur kept saying we could after the next game. Thus, we played Wii sports all night long.

I also learned how to say "I don't care" about a million different ways. The most formal is "je n'ai que faire de ces sottisses." There's also "je m'en fiche," "je m'en tappe," and "je m'en fou," as well as "je m'en balincouie," which is considered extremely vulgar and should therefore not be used around anyone who is faint of heart, or coworkers, if it can be avoided. I'm not sure about the spelling of any of them, and I'm only slightly more certain of the pronunciation. French is hard.

I walked home alone, and was happy to find my way without problems. The nice thing about Paris, and what almost makes up for the fact that all the streets are crooked and change names almost every block, is that there are detailed maps on the back of almost every bus stop(except the ones that have been vandalized). Once you have a basic idea of what direction you're heading, finding your way anywhere isn't a big deal. It's kind of affirming not to get lost in Paris anymore. Like I'm really starting to know the place.

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It's funny, from the moment I bought my scooter... Or even before--really, from the moment I decided I would buy a scooter, I knew that I would have an accident. And somewhow, I foresaw it happening 2/3 of the way through my summer in Paris. In August. I don't know how I knew, but I envisioned it, vividly. I thought of how pitiful I would be, laying by the road, injured and barely able to move as the rain poured down and I felt nothing but cold. My suit torn, my bones broken, adrenaline rushing through me as I tried to guess at the extent of my injuries. I feared that moment, yet somehow felt it was unavoidable. Ineluctable destiny. And at first, I drove safely. As safely as I could. I didn't lane split, or I did so only when traffic was stopped. I didn't speed. I paid close attention. I drove as if my life depended on it. I bought my scooter on June 1st, and told myself I'd avoid all etoiles, and Charles de Gaulle Etoile in particular, until at least my 25th birthday, on the 9th. And I more or less did this... Simply out of fear, I avoided every roundabout for over a week. I first entered Charles de Gaulle Etoile, a seething mass of clustered cars and chaos, the most dangerous spot of all the roads in Paris, on June 8th around 10pm, on the way to a party where I would celebrate my birthday. But after a few weeks with no incidents, and a growing awareness of how to control my vehicle, I got cocky. And then, 2 months later, out of the blue, an accident on a relatively minor road on a normal day, with the sunshine shining. Just as I thought, it wouldn't be my fault--a careless driver, not only failing to signal, but even forgetting to look where he was going as he turned suddenly. In truth, I don't know if he could have done better if he had been, in fact, trying to hit me. And quick reflexes, braking just in time, and I never even fell to the ground. I don't want to call it a miracle, but I think it was against the odds that it should play out so innocuously.

I feel lucky as all hell, and I think I've learned the lesson--from now on I must drive as if on eggshells. I must survive at least until the next round.

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Here's a song: Steso Songs - The Worse

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Anyways, santé to another day survived in Paris.