I have found a new coffee shop. I have been here before, but now I am really here. It’s the only place in Paris to get a decent latte and that makes me happy to return. Also, there are a lot of attractive, english baristas. I am about 4 lattes away from meeting my soul mate and his name is going to be easy to pronounce (on my list).
After being stalked by some old French guy at my regular cafe, I decided it was time to switch it up. So, I didn’t write very much last week- what a shift! It wasn’t just that guy, the service started getting real slow with me, taking me for granted. I yelled that they were acting just like my LAST boyfriend. So, here I am, a new cafe that takes an hour to walk to, but has a patronage I wouldn’t mind stalking me and... good coffee/ comfy chairs. I met a young man today, from America. The barista mixed up our lattes and accidentally gave me his soy latte, but that started dialogue because I recognized him from yesterday, when another latte mishap occurred. It seemed he forgot all about it, but I didn’t and I reminded him of every detail, making me look like a very lonely woman. I don’t think he was mad at the service, but he is a young 23, so he probably doesn’t know when to get pissed off, like I do. Anyway, a new Facebook friend later, I am writing about knowing how to talk too much to strangers. The biggest part of growing up, is learning how to talk to strangers. I have to remind that little girl inside of me that it’s safe now, so lift up your shirt when you eat too much sugar- we’re in this together.
Before I could write a pivotal story, like the one I am writing now, I had to write a French comedian and apologize. I was referred to him by an American comedian, so I sent a friend request with a brief introduction. His profile picture was a thumbnail of a poster with him on the front, wearing a jester hat and a confident posture “yeah, I am comfy in this hat and maybe even a little tough, come see my show”. Comedians often times use show posters as profile pics, in America it’s like saying “I’m not here for validation- I’m an artist”. The French comedian wrote back with a sentence asking how I was. I was happy to hear back because I am eager to get on stage and thought he might be able to direct me to some open mics or something. I asked him about stage time here, assuming that there has to be something, but I don’t even know if they call it “stage time”, they might call it “a shower” or “muffin tray”. The next day (that’s today for all you history buffs), I am taking the metro to my new favorite coffee shop to cut out the hour long walk and hope that the new found 45 minutes will prove useful to the creative process. That’s when I see a large billboard in the metro station with this guy’s profile picture on it. So, the one connection I had, I may have completely alienated by asking about open mics. I should have asked him if he knew any solid street corners I could pan-handle at, I mean, we’re both artists, right?
At least I am going to a party tonight. The Facebook invite said 193 people are attending and 136 people are maybe attending. I am definitely in for a meaningful time. However 311 are not attending and the event is waiting for a reply from 2,046 people, so it’s possible that the music will be stupid and only lonely people will be there. What if I am spotted at the lamest party of the season, will people recognize me and refuse to be my friend in the future. It could be one of those parties where everybody looks at one another like the other is stupid for being there. What if that comedian is there and recognizes me and doesn’t like what I am wearing, but he’s wearing that fucking hat. I hope I pack a cool enough lunch and meet my soul mate or a chair. I love sitting down sometimes, especially with a good lunch.
No comments:
Post a Comment