No matter how hard you try...

I don’t know if I’m built for blog meetings. There’s this Paris Blogue-t-il event coming up on the 21st of September. I’ve been to two other little blogger soirees since I’ve been in Paris, and both times, while I connected with one or two people, I had the impression that I was the red herring. When I feel like I’m out of water, my natural instinct is to flop ungainfully till some liquid is found aka. until a cute boy offers me a drink.

The book that probably best represents me is the House of Mirth. I dread being Lily, being a cog with no wheel, not finding a place to fit herself in this life. But Lily I am in so many ways. Is this the danger of reading novels? To find your doppelganger in a character? There’s an old folk belief that the day you see your doppelganger is the day you start dying.

Right now, I’m listening to Francesca’s Party by Baxter Dury, and there’s this part where he repeats over and over again “No matter how hard you try you fall from grace.”

But I don’t want to sound down. I wouldn’t change a thing… except maybe for that time this rocket scientist proposed to me and I turned him down because he didn’t like to eat vegetables.

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I saw this picture of Fats Domino boarding a boat a couple of days after Hurricane Katrina swept through New Orleans. He hadn’t evacuated because he had sat through other storms. That’s the power of New Orleans. There’s no other place on earth like it. Good ole Fats eventually made his way to the apartment of some Houston NFL player where he crashed while the linebacker was doing water bottle runs. He stayed there for a bit, and now he’s back on the road.

Everything beautiful in the US leads back either to the road, or Blueberry Hill.