magnetized

There is always so much I want/need to update on.

for a few special people in the audience, a shoutout

Crystallised reminds me of you/you.

Oh, 'warm breast milk' reminds me of nights on my livingroom floor.

Chicago by Sufjan reminds me of Ashland.

I Gotta Feeling reminds me of us driving to the beach.

and I'm done with living in my shadow!

Oregon feels like this odd dream, a curdled childrens story sprouting from a farmer's lie.

Paris fits me. It fits me now, yesterday I went to Monoprix, the Fred Meyers equivalent, and they had a huge sale so I bought shoes (I don’t need them but I adore them) and a light jacket (exactly what I needed) and a large black mens shirt (what I’ve been wanting) and nice Bic razors and a hair mask (Parisian water does horrors to my curly mane) and a large (grande) bag of cherries and apricots and cute little packs of chocolate soymilk, the kinds that come with straws, and I swept up my wares and idled past the cluster of adorable teenage boys crowding around the alcohol cabinet and strutted home. I carried a pink plastic Monoprix bag in each hand, and I strolled past the rollerbladers (a reoccurring theme) and mini dogs and the rare homeless man. The night was unrelentingly breezy, as nights always are here, chock full of twilight and wispy French phrases and a warm summery charm. I loved loved loved it. I was by myself and it was one of the most perfect nights yet. I love buying clothes and food that I actually like. I came home to my beautiful roommate, nearly as breezy as the lovely night outside, and we did our best to make the next plan of action.

Today, I have eaten:

Cherries and apricots for breakfast

Cherries and chocolate for lunch

Fruit cocktail (rude waiter)

A light snack of chocolate soymilk and rice cake

FABULOUs sushi

Super rich chocolate gelato (sorbet) that I couldn’t finish

I am honestly treating myself to the richest existence possible and I am appreciating every single second.

It wouldn’t be right to say I gawk at the sites. I don’t ogle over Parisians or slowly amble down the walkways.

I feel less like a tourist and more like a child. I am relearning everything, food culture and humor and confidence and fashion and accents and relations and ordering and communications, I am happily willingly absorbing it all, I haven’t yet become stuffed, I am still sucking up the details.

Here, you don’t grind at clubs; that’s inappropriate. You alert the waiter upon arrival. Customer isn’t always right. You need to register for internet. Less people smoke than expected, but there is more rollerblading. Everyone grabs a bottle and heads to the river after dinner. Sushi is fabulous and crepes are tourist magnets.