6 mois - Le Bilan

Tuesday, February 15, 2005

They've flown by, they really have, my last six months is the city of lights. It hasn't all been pretty, and there have been more dark hole moments than I dare to count. Still... the inner grumpy puss is still there, and the same amounts of silly retardation keeps spewing full born from my head, which can't be all that bad.

So, looking back.

The month where I officially blew my top off socially. Having been starved of any reasonable social life in the dreaded North, suddenly realized that it was possible to meet randoms with mullets, crazy parties with the young and slightly beautiful, endless bestiary of monstrous party freaks, fashionable gaylords, and idiotic art parties where the wine champagne and drugs seemed limitless. The 80s of the 6 months. But of course it was still warm, and I was riding my bicycle in a halter top, even on the 24th.
Highlights: playing badminton in tiny short skirt on a narrow cobblestone street near the Buttes Chaumont, followed by insane pissing adventure with Voin, and the doubling on a bike down Menilmontant hill and around the Republique circus on a Saturday night with a boy who gave deliciously conflicted messages.

The beginning of some strange sobering up. The life of a city is much more than just jumping from one free ride to another, though I would love it to be just that. Or maybe it was just too many weekends riding on fumes. Either way, the sky fell down grey and started spitting viciously at windblown haircuts. There was a confusing moment where I didn't know whether to wear my jean jacket or my winter jacket, and ended up borrowing clothes from everybody, thus looking like a cross between and eastern european immigrant and a northwestern scarecrow. The worst moment was by far the week of the FIAC, where I had terrifying realisation that I could be more malicious and capricious than I ever expected. And, suddenly, somewhere in the last days, the sun came out and I was married. So unexpected.
Highlights: The marriage/ the marriage party.

The month was heralded by a two week cocooning period, slightly related to the honeymoon, in which I must have spent more hours doing nothing than I have my whole life. I'm not sure if I was depressed, or numb, or just terrified, but the prospect of turning 30, in a new country, far from close long-term friends, recently married and horribly unemployed, something just wasn't right. Have rarely felt so psychologically gutted, really capped by the actual birthday, where I had the distinct feeling of being on a one way ticket high speed train off a fjord in Norway.
Highlights: none, and definitely not turning 30

With the advent of the holidays, and the sudden concretisation of legal status in France, I started slowly to move out of the deathly malaise that had hung over my head for so long. The days started to make more sense, I started waking up during daylight hours, and things like taking a shower started to seem less impossible. I cannot even begin to explain to you how extraordinarily important this was to me, little nudges every day. And then the holidays were upon us, and, as befits holidays, things were out of my hands. Instead one could just focus on being a gluttonous pig, amusing with in-laws and preparing for falldown on face party at the end of the year. Started to actually go out to parties again.
Highlights: Christmas and New Year's Eve. Christmas Eve where Dacnar's parents proved that being 65 can still be a drunken messy riot. New Year's Eve for the luscious feasting and heartwarming moments with closer friends.

Started the year on a whimsical and hopeful note, as if the little yellow ribbon was again tied on my left ankle. Tipping and tapping, phoning for jobs, starting to get leads, meeting old friends, good laughs, and general warming of relations. The beginning of a very interesting social angle in my life, the meeting of a like mind on, of all places, friendster. Even if Paris friends were suddenly condemning my desire to stay home, and watch all my Glowria DVDs, I was suddenly filled with inspiration and verve. Stories were written, and finally got a job, albeit tentative and undependable. I hesitate to say the following, because it might seem potentially offensive and perhaps a little misanthropic regarding my taste in Europeans, but having new american friends, and literary madmen at that, was what was missing for so long.
Highlights: Palais de Tokyo art opening that was my catchup with the Parisian bumsniffers, and the blooming friendship with Outlaw.

Reacquaintance with working on a regular basis, in a job that, even if badly paid, is quite rewarding. Sometimes it hardly seems like work at all, and I have all the advantage of being able to reject and accept clients at will. Continuation of sudden inspiration. Of course, still no significant inroads to project completion, but the road looks clearer. So far, parties with the usual crew, chatting with friends online, and silly internet information have been my mainstay of entertainment. That and Sleeper by Woody Allen.
Highlights: the 5 hour chat with Outlaw, the night near the Pompidou with Lacombite. Look, American friends again! Jeez!

Am planning a trip back to North America in the summer, starting June 1st, and I guarantee I will be there for 3 months, if not more. What this says about my future in France, I cannot give an answer. I have an art show planned for October, so obviously I have to be back for that. But is my future really here? Is it worth it to get paid peanuts in a job that clearly makes minimal use of one's talents, struggling monetarily all the time, and feeling so drained by lethargy that making art let alone writing a blog sometimes seem like a chore... I'm not sure. Maybe I'm just complaining for complaining's sake. Either way, I'm heading home for the summer, a little party by a lake in the middle of nowhere, maybe some road trips, adventures, and occasional working, even if it means missing the Tour de France.

In the near future, more hijinks and parties with french friends. Advancement on project... more sports highlights and pre-Tour de France analysis. And... hopefully, lets cross our fingers on this, making inroads on the writing.

And, it's true...Paris has put me to the test but I am now officially bilingual.

Listening to: Got to get you into my life - The Beatles