Last night, I had a coughing fit while I was half asleep, and in my dream, I believed my coughs were poems.

Can May please last a little longer than 31 days? The self that has, against initial impressions, learned to love the France, could use a bit more time on this end of the year; these months, after all that fucking counting, prove not to be enough.

Last night, I dreamt that I was searching fervently for copies of Nabokov books. I queued for hours at the front of what looked like a record shop until I got to ask the clerk, in French, not if he knew where I could find any Nabokov, but if he knew where I could find a copy of the Neutral Milk Hotel's first album (perhaps because it looked like a ( Read more... )

Today, I voted by absentee ballot for the very first time in the Pennsylvania Democratic Primaries. It was, of course, massively exciting and extremely official to the point of comedy.
( Read about my adventures in democracy )

What is there to say when it's sunny every day? When I spend Tuesday afternoons in parks drinking cider, nights drinking magnums of cheap rosé in outdoor cafés, and Wednesdays eating ice creams and having walks along windy beaches? When stealing chairs and dancing in fountains constitute normal Monday nights? When I have few classes, and no ( Read more... )

...that the weather could be better, but that life is excellent.

Several hours ago, I went outside to buy books and phone credit. I get only several steps away from my door when a older French lady stops me to question me about my attire, and whether or not I'd been frostbitten yet; this happens, perhaps, more frequently than it should.

La Dame: You haven't cold in your neck?
Me: Oui, but...
La Dame: Oh, are ( Read more... )

1. I drank gin.
( Click to read the next 9 items which are not actually terribly interesting, and mostly just an elaboration on item #1 )

One of the things I dislike most about living in Montpellier has nothing to do with the city or country itself: it's the fact that I live alone, or more accurately, the fact that I live with someone I never care to see or speak to. There are a few advantages, but mainly a long list of disadvantages to this arrangement. When I was in Edinburgh ( Read more... )

I'm going back to France tomorrow. Once in a while, I slip and say that I'm going 'home' which implies good things I guess, but immediately, it always sounds wrong to me. My mushy little single bed (into which I stopped sinking only after I unpacked and shoved my too-big suitcases underneath, creating accidental support in my search for storage ( Read more... )