Settling into my first writing cafe of the evening, I find myself in a very Zen-like state. I mean, here -- at the center of the universe that we all know Fairfield Life to be -- I find myself on a Friday night with time on my hands, wonderful places to write in, and almost twenty more posts to do it in.
But I can't think of a damned thing to write about. I've already posted most of the weirdass theories and slightly-askew observations I've had this week in earlier posts. Walking over here, I paused for a few minutes Watching The Last Rays Of Sunset Strike Notre Dame, and was so taken by that sight and that phrase that I toyed with writing it up into a poem. But then I decided that I'd never be able to do better than the title itself, so I didn't. Besides, that's in the past now, and in the present I'm in the cafe I was heading to. But still with fuck-all to write about. So I guess I'm stuck having to write about Here And Now. "Here" is Le Départ again, and "Now" is...uh...now. And right now, I'm sitting at a sidewalk table enjoying a tall Leffe (they don't serve Westmalle Tripel, alas), and realizing that -- even on a hot summer night like this one -- I'm somewhat underdressed. NOT that I went out in my skivvies or anything. It's just that I'm still wearing the same cool, comfortable cotton pants and shirt I wore to work. Some of the patrons in this cafe -- especially the ones here with dates -- look as if they went home first, showered, shaved whatever parts they felt needed shaving before a hot date, and then put on spiffy out-on-the-town-in-Paris-wear. They look chic. At best, I look comfortable. I clearly suck at being a Parisian. :-) On the other hand, I'm here doing one of the things I enjoy the most in life. I have no date for tonight because she is out of town, but in her absence I get to...wait for it...sit in a cafe in Paris and write. All my LIFE I've dreamed of being able to sit in cafes in Paris and write. And now I'm not only doing that, I'm getting PAID to do it. I may not have a hot date with me, and I may not be chic, but I'm *here* most nights of the week, damnit, doing one of the things I enjoy the most in life, and being paid to do so by an Insanely Big Megaclusterfuck of a corporation. What is not to like about that? I am one seriously fortunate frood.
