Believe it

Even J. Crew is getting in on the game. J. Crew in Paris? Of course.

Recently, though, I feel like the Parisian madness has subsided to a gentle hum. Having been replaced by other guileless distractions. Against which I have no defenses.

I'm going to San Francisco for work next week. I know where I'm staying, where I'm going to work out, where I'm going to eat. Somehow it's horrifying to me to look at the Google map of Palo Alto and to think of (or Street View) the glowing, sun-dappled streets, the Spanish architecture. What is it about California that is so repellent to me? But, I do see a Cheesecake Factory in Street View. Should probably get packing!

Sorry I'm not sorrier

I went to see Dans Paris this afternoon at the IFC Center with a friend from study abroad, was mystified and Franny and Zooey-fied (chicken soup, dead sibs, telephones), ate gelato, came home. Flopped into bed, drank a glass of water, and turned on the telly. Of course, Le Divorce is on again. I'm not enjoying it this time either, but of course, it's...

One of those coincidences. This afternoon as I poked around Flight 001, I saw a totally strange thing - a tin of Paris-themed stamps. Who would want such a thing? What would you use it for? It seemed somehow though that if I bought it, it would be an acknowledgement that I notice the coincidences. That I've understood that I have to move to Paris. Oui?

Now I feel disgusting and bloated. Not helped by having lived an entire day vicariously by watching the movie, which seemingly took place in real time. Going out tonight will be three days in a row. I'm not looking forward to it.