Through the Glass Dirtily

I feel like I'm looking at the world through a greasy, dirty windshield right now. I stumble up this-or-that Rue de quelque chose, halfheartedly dodging people, feeling enervated and sort of half-blind. I'm drunk too much and I'm so sick of Paris.

Fortunately, as mentioned in earlier posts, I finally get to leave Paris for a few days. I'm heading out of Gare de l'Est tomorrow at 9am, bound for Germany. I'm meeting up with my friends C+S and their tiny kiddo in their village outside of Heidelberg, about three hours from Paris by train. I'm hoping and expecting that it will be relaxing, having conversation be the default for a few days instead of the exception, not having to worry about trying to say the right thing in public (since all I remember of German at this point are a few clumsy tourist phrases and some Rammstein lyrics, I can simply claim complete ignorance), and just not being HERE for a little while. Even if you think Paris is the best city in the world, I would retort that my situation is the municipal equivalent of the old saying 'you can't survive on ice cream.'



This is a picture of the funny man who writes the Chunklet zine holding a small dog while it is fed malt liquor. Apparently, he just released a book called the Rock Bible full of funny, pithy, and accurate things about playing in bands. I want this book. I will get a copy on returning to the states.

Hope everyone has a turkey day as happy as a dog all liquored-up on Colt 45.