Is it possible to arrive too late on a Pirate Ship?

Yes.

First of all, I'm really sad to disappoint all those people who come to my site looking for emo hairstyles. Don't worry guys! I'll get my act together, once my camera arrives, and take some pictures of the current new HOT DOs in Paris! Stay tuned for more of this kind of useful information.

So, last night, had a funny case of cabin fever and phoned Ana up late in the afternoon in full panic. She gave me a rendez-vous for the Russian Palace, in Scoub's space. But, as usual, when it got close to the time, I wasn't ready. So I called Scoubs to tell her I'd be late showing up, whereupon we changed the RV to the Cheri bar.

Do you know this bar? It's one of those bars in Paris where the poor minions who scrape the barrel of the art community converge upon. A mixture of dirty heads and fashionable scruffy wear. Alas, it also has a rather lovely terrace/sidewalk, so we like it... despite the ridiculous clientele (OMG! Am I part of this ridiculous clientele? Please, tell me it's not true!)

So I get there, and Voilà! Scoubs, Queenie looking pretty in the setting sun. Order myself a quick beer and drop straight into my usual performance... random and useless gossip coupled with excited gesticulating and hair whips. We wait for ages, and Ana shows up, with her NEW PHONE! Yah, crazy digital camera attached, which is really easy to access, except for the annoying fact it flips everything upside down. Was going to just have dinner with Queenie, eating chicken, but Ana proposes we head to the Pirates Ginguette for a concert... she's got a plus one on her guest list so I say yes, because I hate to pass up free stuff.

So, after dinner, where Gasp spent most of his time draining Ana's cellphone account and battery watching TV, much to her chagrin, we dip off towards the Pirate Ship...

Ok, as you might guess, if you follow this blog, Ana and I together navigating is a horrifically bad idea. Alone, I can chalk up some serious misdirection. But together, we turn into the fuddle duddle twins. Luckily, we know this, so this time we opted for asking for directions...at almost every turn. It took about an hour to get there.

The Ginguette is located just opposite the Bibliotheque Francois Mitterand, that battery of black ominous skyscrapers hanging over the eastern edge of the Seine. The Ginguette is basically an old wooden boat converted into a club. It actually floats on the water, so when large barges swoosh by, the waves send us a rocking. I have to say I always feel very romantic about boats, let alone Pirate Boats...

When we got there the music was thundering noisy from the outside. An intense roar of noise and feedback.... a wall of sound. I was so excited! We get in there and it's amazing... just raw noise, with a mad drummer and a guitarist squealing away, and massive massive feedback and roar. It was exhilirating... the sound ripped through me. I had to stand stock. This lasted for about 4 minutes, after which the guy announced the concert was over. The group was called Stuntman 5, in case you're interested.

WTF! I'm always getting in late for things... but this is ridiculous. They played a weak encore, Elvis's Blue Christmas, but I was sad... this is the second time in two months that I've arrived to catch the final song of a band. The tardiness problem is getting to be a liability.

Then, after beers, chats, we decided to head home because looks like the night was pretty cooked... I sent some random messages, and everything was just slightly less than appealing so chug-a-lug... sometimes you just gotta cash your chips in before the night bites your ass.

On the way home, passed an absolutely beautiful chair, just lying on the sidewalk. Very 60s cabana mixed with Eames... I phoned everybody who might possibly help me drive it home. Alas, to no avail. I suppose I could've just taken a cab, but, when things aren't meant to be, they aren't meant to be.

Got home and the boys were sitting in front of the TV, laughing and cracking Pope Jokes. Sometimes, Dacnar's humour is so NOT cool. I punched him several times, until he said he had to go to sleep. After which I played with my computer a bit and watched the Sin City trailer over and over again...

__________________

I need to email a certain someone back, about his wonderful writing that he sent to me. The Outlaw gave further confirmation of his sheer genius the other day. Impressed? You bet! If I was a publishing house, I'd sign the bugger up and chain him to a desk, somewhere near some owls, with a permanent parade just outside the door. Of course I can't write him back immediately because, when someone sends you this type of mail bomb, you need a bit of recovery time to sent the appropriate artillery back.

__________________

And to be even more irreverant....

Yes, I know the Pope is dead. It really is a turning of the page... A new generation steps forth.
For example, Fernando Alonso won today's F1 race. He's 25. Tom Boonen won the Tour de Flandres. He's 23 I think. And if Nadal creams Federer's ass, that would be the final nail on my thesis. Hey, the Pope was a big sports guy when he was young. He would appreciate my enthusiasm for physical excellence!

As for the Pope, yes, I thought he was rather a great man... despite some of his more archaic ways of thinking (abortion, women's rights, condoms), he did do some very great things (like his strong anti-communist stance which helped the fall of communism in his birth country). But of course, you're all watching the same documentaries as me... some of those documentaries look like they've brushed the dust off them from 10 years ago... is that how long he's been dying?