Writer's Block, revisited

After a message from a reader, worried about the continuation of the blog, after the compilation and the comments and title of the last track, I just want to make sure that this continues, and I will not change any of my customs. It is just recognizing something that has taken place through this year.

And I have not written because after the mental energy that went into the wedding and its aftermath, and the compilation project, I just lack the energy to rant. And since Bavaria I have not traveled, although I had a visit from some business travelers from Germany. But I am overusing work, and although work is overusing me as well, at least they give me money for it.

With heavy work, lack of motivation, a serious lack of interest (I have been unable to ask for anything for my birthday, so I fear I will get half a dozen pullovers), and just no subjects that really make me burn in anger, I float along.

As usual, I have a couple of partial rants saved, and today I deleted one on the business visit (ten hours eating and drinking, three hours of show business, fifteen minutes of useful technical discussion (whose aftermath has kept me busy the whole week). But they are arcane (Lisa Gerrard plagiarizing herself) or tedious (The show of news...). So the only reason I still have not deleted them is because I like to have a couple of draft documents in the editing page. Makes me believe there is continuity, there is a future.

In terms of travelling however, it still looks up. Hamburg and Venice in October, possibilities of more Germany and France, and maybe further away before the year ends. And traveling helps me focus and write in my small notebook, which in the end fuels e-mail and rants.  ¶ 9:42 PM 0 comments

  Faces: 2003-2005
A personal compilation.

Although this is the music that has been with me through the many changes of these two years, most of it is not from the period. I tend to be seriously out of touch in terms of current music, and often I will get an artist only when it is seriously discounted (you already know I will not usually download music I have not paid for, specially if I like the author). All that means delays.

Missing here will be as well many songs that have been with me that I got from other people's compilation. Just because in my mind they are still "theirs", even if they would merit to be here.

And once this started to take form I noticed how calm, how restful I had become. Just one song you could dance to, maybe two. It was the kind of music my mother would not mind listening to. Maybe it is the big number of soundtrack pieces that make it into it, but movies play a big role in my life, so movie soundtracks play a big role in my listening.

As usual, feel free to pick the ones you like, in the order you like. This is just the one that appeals to me. Many of them have been mentioned as Favorite Lyrics or Favorite Juke Box, so they should not be surprising.

1. Quelqu'un m'a dit. Carla Bruni.

Maybe it is its use in a popular advertisement, maybe it is the easy to understand French, maybe it is its humble simplicity, but this song has been a persistent earworm since April 2004, when I decided to listen French music while travelling through France. And it embraces quite well the confused modern emotional life.

2. Girl from the north country. Johnny Cash and Bob Dylan.

Bob Dylan titled this Girl of the North Country. I cannot say how Mr. Cash changed the title, but that is how it appears in all the versions of his I have seen. More than one girl from the North has entered my life these years. I hope they stay.

3. The Scarlet Tide. Elvis Costello and EmmyLou Harris.

Maybe it is my limited exposure to country music, but this song gripped me when I first heard it, and it was soldered around when I heard EC sing it live. I cried then (even if nobody noticed). Music and Lyrics, beautifully mixed.

4. Temptation. Diana Krall.

After EC, his wife. A big, tempting caress of a song, so different from Mr. Waits... Many temptations, although I will regret more the ones I resisted that the ones I fell for. Which probably means I was a good boy after all.

5. The Sisters of Mercy. Leonard Cohen.

Another old song, brought about by a sudden resurgence of Leonard Cohen's influence in my listening. And his lyrics are so applicable, to any circumstance. Finally, his melancholic mood with some joyful sparks and contained hope fits very well my Faceless period.

6. Can't help falling in love. Elvis Presley.

A true oldie goldie. And it is directed to all my readers, because you are the reason I am here after all. I can't love you all as I should, but I surely did fall in love with you.

7. Vois sur ton chemin. Les Petits Chanteurs de Saint-Marc/Bruno Coulais

From Les Choristes, a song reminding me of something I missed in my teens, and that I have only found now, almost too late, something resembling those childhood friends I did not keep then.

8. A Fuego Lento. Rosana.

Slow burn. Because not all has been calm and sad, and some fires have been rekindled, which has really made a difference. It is our duty to keep those home fires lit.

9. Gortoz a ran - J'Attends. Denez Prigent and Lisa Gerrard.

The world interferes at this time, with this song and the next one, linked, as they have to be. From Black Hawk Down, as is its companion theme. I have searched for information, reasons, hows, whys, just to understand the world we live in. And this is a reminder that nothing is black and white, and most is just a dirty white, but white nevertheless.

10. Minstrel Boy. Joe Strummer and The Mescaleros.

The other part of the equation, the rightful wrath mired in a maze. Another powerfully symbolic song, on what happens on the other side of the sea. Everyone gets dirty in these affairs. And another constant worry in this period. Because so many cannot understand that we criticize, and worry, because we care. We do care.

11. Persian Love Song. Lisa Gerrard.

If there is any musical artist I have overdosed on during this period, it is Lisa Gerrard and part of her Dead Can Dance work. Because it is so timeless, cosmopolitan and lacking in external references. And it resonates within me. So you will be subjected to a bit of her.

12. Mathilde's Theme. Angelo Baladamenti.

From Un long dimanche de fiançailles. This not only reminds me of the most intense film I have watched this period, but it also reminds me why, no matter my fascination with violence and warfare, warfare is inherently evil, even if you consider yourself good.

13. Bylar. Dead Can Dance.

Besides it being an excuse to listen more of Lisa Gerrard, this is the only piece I do not own in a store bought CD, but that I downloaded from the internet, a present from 4AD, the record company. I really hope that technology will make it possible to spread art, whatever you like, to anyone who will appreciate it, while keeping it ethical to do so. Although I may sound quite sure of myself, this is also a very troubling matter for me, because both extreme solutions are frightening.

14. Under the Bridge. Red Hot Chili Peppers.

Another old song that has been more appreciated lately. With some help from my friends, I have been striving to display more emotions. Of course that means both joy and sadness, and I have felt sad quite a few times, specially as others around fought despair and depression. But shared joy is more uplifting, and shared pain hurts less.

15. Hard Wired. Tracy Chapman.

A good reminder for a technophile, in an old fashioned package, that technology is a tool, and hence its main users will exploit others with it. Something to keep always in mind when we want a new toy.

16. Callous Sun. Yann Tiersen and Shannon Wright.

Lately I wonder if this unease rising in me is not the psychological forties barrier, symbolic of half life, as earlier the thirties were. Whatever its origin, it cannot be denied, only faced. I know I will not be alone, and that makes the difference.

17. Feeling Good. Nina Simone.

Despite what I said above, this is how I feel about this time. Something has changed, and it still changes. But in whole, I am feeling good.

18. I loved dancing with you. Alfonso de Villalonga.

From Mi vida sin mi. I am not leaving, but I feel I will be seeing much less of many of you, and probably you will be seeing less of me. Maybe a little sad, but so is life. I have enjoyed it so far, and I hope to enjoy it some more.  ¶ 9:54 AM 0 comments

  Compilations

When I was young, and starting to go after girls (although I was older than you think), in my extremely limited bag of tricks the two more succesful items were lending books and giving tailored compilation tapes. Now, years later and with some more experience, they were succesful because they worked also on me, beating my own shy reluctance by giving me valid reasons to call again, to keep in touch. Making me as well as her comfortable with each other.

Sometimes too comfortable, as my tendency to become a supporting shoulder started also at that time. But it is a role that I enjoy. Or that I have come to enjoy, maybe, specially now that any other role would be suspect.

What this comes to is that when I started to put a compilation CD, in 2003, I had not done anything similar since 1996, preparing a tape in France for my wife, then still girlfriend. Even the technology had changed in between.

I do not tend to prepare compilation tapes for myself, nor do I do it with CDs, although often I think I should. But I never can find the time and the inclination to do it. All the previous compilations were made for people I loved, or who I thought I could love, usually after an intensive information gathering campaign.

Then suddenly I found myself in the quandary of making a compilation for a set of almost unknowns, almost friends. Impossible to tailor it to everyone. I lacked the music resources for some of them, and anyway I did not know enough about their tastes. So I did the only thing I could, I made a compilation for myself, a selection of close to twenty years buying music, something that I knew I would enjoy, and then just hope that the others found enough things to like either the music or myself, preferrably both. That was Meet the Faceless, and it is still the CD I use in long trips (such as two weeks ago) when I am tired of all other music.

As part of the compilation exchange I got over a dozen compilations from others. Some seemed to have used a similar criterion to mine, others something different. Some, usually from people my own age, hit very precisely what I liked, which meant I had no problem listening to the whole CD, even if there were only a couple of songs I recognized. Others had a few songs I liked, and some I did not. Soon I was toying with the idea of making a "super-compilation", so those songs I liked could get some exposure, rather than languish in a CD I did not listen to. A few made me get some music I would not have, otherwise.

But, sadly, even the best compilations were not as appreciated as some records from my favorite artists, and when the emotion of discovering the music from someone's else mind paled, most were put to the side, to be recovered in certain emotional moments but not for common use.

Common use, these days, means to be in rotation in the car's 6 CD charger, as that is the place where I listen more frequently to music. The iPod manages to give some songs from compilations more air time that the whole CD.

I realised that although it was terribly instructive, the exchange had not been a great artistic success. I had been exposed to some interesting artists, I hoped some people would have found something worthwhile in my own, but clearly there were some (or a lot, for some people) misses as well.

So I tried to do things differently in my second compilation, Ñowhereñear. This was, in my opinion, a bigger failure. Because the first CD was very faithful to myself, so it told a lot about me. And I really chose songs that moved me, no matter how over used ("Ne me quitte pas"!) or unknown they were. So it was a self-portrait, more or less attiring, but a true one. The second one I went more to target a hypothetic average foreigner, with my limited Spanish music available. And neither did I like it much, and other were alienated either by its strangeness or its lack of a strong thematic or semantic content.

The third I decided to change completely. First of all, I decided to exchew with the physical support. Why make a physical artifact when I do not know if the receiver will like it? Let her make a choice, if she wants the whole work, or in this world of chopped music, pick the parts she likes to make her own compilation. At the same I preferred if there was a strong thematic current, in order to load some songs with emotion.

I am very satisfied of how Speechless turned out. Listeners reacted more to one song or other, depending on their own likings, but the themes helped to give the songs pull. And its modular character made people choose their own compilation out of the blocks I offered, while still offering a glimpse at my own mind and my likes and dislikes.

So I am going to repeat the formula, because it is cheap, tunable and more suited for the 21st century that the physical travel of music. Virtual music in a virtual box, waiting for someone intrigued enough to give it a spin.

That way I will have another tool to express myself, besides the cumbersome language I use so often. So keep an eye, if interested, on our shared gmail address for a series of files. The why of the choices will appear in the next rant, and if you want lyrics, I am sure Google can help you.

If this system, due to OS or bandwidth limitations, does not work for you, drop me a line and I will use a XXth century method to make it reach you.  ¶ 10:33 PM 0 comments

  Businessing we go, we go, we go

We were quite a plentiful party (five people) going to a high level meeting in Germany. Actually, besides our leader, all participants thought that we really had no real reason to be there. One did not speak English or German, other had ended his involvement in this project three years ago, another one had not really been involved but was chosen as the token expedition female, and I felt that I had more important things with my time than getting drunk with nice (and stout) Bavarians while others discussed non-disclosure and commercial agreements. Besides, the first and second members knew all that was needed on the commercial and technical sides of the project.

But our opinions mattered little to our great leader, so travelling did we go.

Five people with luggage challenged our standard transport strategy, as we did not fit in any company car (Zaragoza has very limited flights, so you have to get to Madrid or Barcelone, 300 km away). So we got a rented van and there we went, with some verbal jabs on the sporting nature of my clothing. It is a highway trip we know well, and it quickly became apparent that the boss was not really in the trip, as there were no reviews of material we were taking with us, nor any discussion on the meeting strategy. Not that we wanted to review it, but he usually does. So we chatted and gossiped the time away.

In the end, it took us ten hours to go from Zaragoza to the nice Burg Wernberg castle, after passing through Barcelone, Zürich, Nuremberg and Hirtschau.

The castle was a real castle, and my room, on top of a tower, was quite nice but had some problems with ceiling height. But I just had to freshen up a little and adopt “business light” clothes before we had to go for dinner, in the castle of course. Dinner was very good, and quickly separated also the technicians from the salesmen and management. That made not only the food attractive (with the sights and the setting), but the company as well. We left our companion woman to the corporate wolves (she seemed to enjoy all the attention) and we just struck up a friendly conversation with our two counterparts. That was to be a constant of the trip, to her annoyance.

Another aspect that I dislike of travelling with the Big Boss™ is that he sets up the dress code, and he is quite anal about it. My neck was saved when I appeared in jacket and tie at the castle dinner, despite having traveled in slacks and a polo shirt.

So he set up in advance the dress code. No matter that visiting a kaolin manufacturer, with a plant visit included, is a bit foolish in a dark suit and dress shoes.

The day was spent in a project sales spiel, some commercial and economic tug-o-war concerning contracts, and a very instructive visit to a clay mining operation and product treatment, including the first commercial use I have seen of a superconducting magnet.

We also got to see the green German countryside, picturesque villages and widespread woods.

There was some small crisis at our own plant, a consequence of having half the R&D force out travelling. But that is something that apparently can be solved by shouting at a mobile phone.

Once the two company owners had arranged some agreement (after much talk about family owned companies’ virtues and small companies’ flexibility) we just went to a hotel in Nuremberg to be able to leave early in the morning. A long walk through Nuremberg’s old city center, a nice dinner in a modern restaurant, with some of the nicest waitresses and waiters I have seen in years. The food was not as good as the looks, but it was good enough. And dinner was in a more pleasant mood than the previous evening, more interested in food, drink and the elections in Germany.

Nine hours after leaving the hotel, the following morning, we got home. Three days of travelling and one hour of really productive meeting. And I get a new project for my list.  ¶ 3:54 PM 0 comments

  Reflections

Sunday morning was quiet, with others nursing strong headaches, and I was feeling melancholic, being the first to leave. Most of what brought us together in the first place is no more, and we have less and less in common. Even our common blog, and we talked about it a lot, does not feel ours any more.

Of course we had breakfast together, and talked subduedly at the table. It is the first time I say goodbye without having an event we know that will gather some of us again. I really felt like saying goodbye at the end of holidays, to drift apart for ever.

Then the long drive. I had already listened to all the CDs in the car (12) several times, so they were no distraction. It was hot and sticky, even with air conditioning, so I mostly stopped to refill on drinks (and some food as an afterthought) and empty the byproducts. I drank more than five liters that drive.

So what I did along the way was mostly drink and think, with some assorted cursing and gas filling, often at the same time.

Some of those reflections will be mercifully lost. Some will appear here, sometime or other. But one of the main subjects was what to do with a group blog that you do not feel like yours anymore.

The main interest of a group blog is either to share with other people something you would not share with most people around you (whether family or other internet media) because either they would not understand your interest, or because it is too much personal information to openly publish.

In this view, I stopped posting because there was a moment when anything I would put there I would put as well in a wider audience. This particular rapport that took it beyond an interactive diary you could trust was lost, and I felt satisfied with a non-interactive public diary, or posting publicly, as it was the same emotional burden, with some exceptions, to post for twenty than to post for three hundred.

In a way, it is just a reflection on the evolution of most small groups of people. Some event brings you together, you stay that way some time, and then external life pressures, internal emotions, other priorities just make you closer to some and puts you further away from others. It happens with teenager groups, and apparently it also happens with internet adults. You end up with only a couple of friends out of a host of acquaintances. In fact, I feel I am lucky in keeping so many.

So I think there is noo way to "save" the stricken blog, because it is just suffering a natural phase. The only solution would be for someone still interested in the experience to set up a new one, and start the seeding and filling once again. Because the one we have did not keep its members nor did it replace them fast enough to keep content interesting. Now there are so many emotional workloads that old people cannot let go, and new people can never feel really in.

So a clean start and a new mix of people. Because the mix is the key. And it is critical to avoid stresses among the members from the start. Something that also failed now, but that is a different matter and beyond repair.

I wonder if someone will invite me. I have shown I am not an easy neighbour.  ¶ 6:12 PM 0 comments

 
Vive les Mariés!

[Saturday 3rd of September]

We had the morning free to wander through Orléans. So we just went and did so, hunting for breakfast. The other half of our party did not have a slightly time displaced Canadian to get them up early, so we had eaten, window-shopped and even flea-marketed (nothing much of interest, and we had our own fake detector) before they appeared, quite hungry.

It is strange how food acts like the glue that keeps us together. Or maybe it is because tables with food are the naturl environment for lively conversation. We went into a brasserie for some coffee and we ended up having lunch.

After eating we had some time left so we visited Orléans cathedral, which is quite big as cathedrals go. I have something about gothic cathedrals. It must be the height. I could spend hours feeling my soul uplifting. As so many things, that brings me back to my youth, and the memory of faith.

After a silent gap while visiting the cathedral, we hurried back to our hotels to get ready for the wedding. If you do not know what wedding, you are in the wrong blog.

We had some troubles getting there, but we were forgiven as the bride was so kind to arrive much later, as tradition demands. So we got enough time to tease the groom, pass the colonel's test and look for good vantage places. Then a rush to fit 200 people in a room as big as my living room. I got there the photo at the top, and you do not know how much judicious violence I had to use to get there. I hope it was not the cries of pain what made them look to me at that critical signing moment. The photo I like the most, and the one that required more effort. Watch the groom's hands. Watch the bride. He has clearly hit jackpot.

Then we crossed the street to the church for the religious ceremony. The supposedly punk musicians behaved too well. The revolutionary brother was meek as a lamb. Everything went according to plan, and they did not ask for objections from the crowd (not that anyone would have dared to face off both families). At the exit, we got a bubble gun rather than the traditional rice. Quite a nice idea. Then the "honor wine", that must be French for informal banquet, considering the amounts of food and drink being offered. As usual we blossomed then, kidnapping for a while the new husband and hijacking full trays. In the end, however, it was too much, and as we were supposed to have dinner in a short time we decided a strategic retreat would let us regroup, not to mention escape the heat.

So we absconded to the hotel, and compared notes, tried to understand the world and a few other problems and got ready for the big public event.

The dinner was at a military base, but we had a GPS equipped vehicle so that did not worry us. The third time we were back round at the hotel it was a little off-putting, but once a small glitch was solved (concerning the side of the river we were supposed to be) we got there just in time to avoid a reprimand. As usual, the last ones in before the stars of the night.

We sit at a table and we have food and drink offered (there is a pattern there, I am sure), so we do what we know how to do, and keep talking. We tried to talk softly when the colonel made his powerpoint presentation, and we shut up completely when the bride and her father sang. We did not catch everything however, as we were among the few not hiding some tears. We talked quite loudly when we watched a film on the groom's infancy. After all, he is still a kid. And the champagne was already out by then.

Unfortunately I missed what a couple bottles of champagne (each) do to mostly sensible people, as I had a long trip back home. But the smiles of the couple made the trip worthwhile. Not to mention the company.  ¶ 10:41 AM 0 comments

  Boulevard Peryphérique

[Friday 2nd of September]

Big french supermarkets are food paradises. This time I did not need wine (a couple of cases remained from the last time) so it was just food, except for a little champagne. I confess I enjoy shopping for food almost as much as cooking it, although a bit less than eating it. So profiting from the fact I was driving a car alone, I just gorged myself in shopaholism. The preserved remains of several ducks, some spices, oriental ingredients, varied mushrooms and some flavored teas. Pity that I was returning on Sunday, so no shopping for cheese. And all that food made me feel younger, back to 95 and learning to cook all those things on my own (I increased my weight in 15 Kg in 2 years in France).

But I had an appointment in Paris, 600 km away. So I got just a small portion of Bleu de Bresse and some bread, and on the way I went.

All time stages went according to plan (another advantage of my new friend, the speed regulator) till I got within 50 km of Paris. There is the singularity horizon, and you enter a different universe where time and space are strangely curved, so it takes 45 minutes to drive 7 kilometers. And you cannot even profit to reflect on other matters, as you are so tightly compressed there are plenty of cars trying to occuppy your own physical space.

With some luck I managed to get out of the hole, and even get in time to the Charles De Gaulle airport. I do not know if you have seen terminal 1. A round building, where you just go round up and round down. Always round. So I was a bit dizzy when I got to Arrivals.

But everything went ok, we recognized each other, although it seemed like a long time. Surprising when you think that we have known each other for two years, and we first met in April last year. Indeed, all the friends I was going to meet came from the same period, even one I had not yet met.

But I will confess she is my favorite. Which is why I volunteered to brave the Paris black hole to pick her up. Indeed, the Friday evening traffic jam was already factored in the plans (Plan C2 by that time, with plan A and B already shredded) so that we had some time to chat and catch up without other friends overhearing. There are limits to what you want to share. And her life has changed dramatically since the last time we drove from an airport (she was driving then).

Thanks to the modern technology wonders we always knew how deep we were in the hole, although those so-called friends tried to lure us deeper inside the hole. As we had the wedding couple already waiting for us in Orléans, we declined, to see if they would come out faster (speed on the other direction was close to a whooping 15 kph).

Once again, when we reached the 50 km singularity border we were carrying enough energy to break away, and fly at high speed to Orléans.

And there I found out the advantages of accompanying a pregnant woman. All plans became dependent on her wishes. All the others came always to our hotel, and the restaurant was changed from one a bit far away to one in front of the hotel.

Quite a good restaurant, by the way, at least in terms of openness and willingness, even if they did not know what a White Russian was.

So we had the wedding couple all to ourselves for an hour, while the others came from Paris, in this their last single night. Flattering indeed.

When the others came, conversation exploded and fluttered away like a thousand butterflies across the table, impossible to track. So if you ask me what we talked about, I would haved to say, "everything".

We probably are too smart for our own good, but we had great fun, good food and excellent mind food.

And we went to bed early, because we had to be bright and ready for the big day.  ¶ 11:52 PM 0 comments

  Speed Regulator

Last Thursday, I drove alone to Bordeaux. In all of the different plans torn by events, I had included sleeping there. It not only is a nice distance away from Zaragoza (500 Km) but it also is a city I love to spend time in.

Along the way I discovered at last how to turn on the speed limiter and the speed regulator in my car (eighteen months after getting it). The speed limiter does not fit my character at all, but the regulator makes long trips much manageable. And, being as I am, I tested it and it saves gas as well. Much more regular than my feet, without the cramps. I know this will be obvious to most people with cars, but a speed regulator just tries to keep the car at a speed you have fixed (I alternated between 132, 136, 130 and back to 136, with higher peaks when I took matters in my hands, erm, in my feet).

Once I was one of them, I realised there are plenty of people using regulators. Those who overtake you in upslopes and curves, while losing you going down. Those that stand behind you for hours. And more specifically, those that pass you at a snail's pace, the 2 kph that they have as an advantage. Don't they realise there is a reason why using the accelerator does not disengage the regulator, only brakes and gears? Step on it a little, please, and we both will breath easier.

Being an electronic gadget, I took fun on taking it as a video game, using the + and - functions to accelerate/decelerate rather than the standard equipment. No more distractions losing you speed (or worse, speeding up inadvertently). No more speed changes while hunting for the water bottle. And one less thing to track.

I made it to Bordeaux quite fast, and then lost all that extra time looking for my hotel, as I had mistook it for another one. I also noticed how modern some parts were getting, but it was not till I left the hotel to get to downtown that I realised I should not have gone by car. There is a new mass transit Tram in Bordeaux. It is nice, it is clean, it has warped the traffic beyond recognition. When I could, I just parked and moved on foot. That was what I was there for anyway.

First lunch, in my old "after late cinema" kebab, appropiately named "La Dernier séance". Then shopping, for a few things that I have a weakness for, and some collectable role-playing games. Some Tékumel material from the eighties and other arcane items. Then a couple of gifts for when I get back, and books (Amin Maalouf and Amélie Nothcomb are two of my favorites). And just strolling around watching the changes in places I love. The Tram, seen like a pedestrian, is a great improvement. And now there are free electric buses running the parallel streets to Rue St. Catherine, a shopping street, foot traffic only, 2 Km long (with plenty of interesting things on the side streets as well).

But one of the best moments was returning to my favorite Irish pub, anywhere in the world, to find that now they have free Wi-Fi access. And Guinness is cheaper than it was when I lived there (although there are no live bands on Thursdays). Of course it is getting close to its centennial, so they maybe were celebrating.

It was such a nice day I spent a while checking my acquisitions in one of the public gardens. It was nice to be just one of many people reading out in that mellow afternoon.

I had planned to go shopping for food (those things that you only find easily or at a reasonable price in France) that evening, but it was so emotional, writing in a cafe while watching the new students pass, that I decided I had time for that in the morning. So I went looking for a place to dine (at 5 pm). After checking several old haunts (a few closed, most changed) I accepted I would not get Riz de Veau as I had dreamed of, so I decided on another coffee, a movie and a late dinner at a creperie. The film was an undubbed Appleseed, with the benefit of having read the original comic and seen several episodes of the TV series. Very pretty, but maybe too much "fan service" with the female characters and a certain overuse of big guns and ammo. Extremely attractive visually, however. And I like cartoon girls with big guns...

The "galette complet" was as good as I remembered, and few desserts can beat a crepe with chocolate-banana. So I was in a good mood when I drove back to my prefabricated shoe-box hotel. Another thing I had somehow missed, the polyester bathroom inserted inside the rooms. Not for themselves, of course, but the feeling of being in holidays it brought back.

A totally self-centered remembrance and spoiling myself day. I had thought about checking some of my old friends, but I was feeling selfish. I wanted to be alone with myself. And Bordeaux has all the things I crave on my own.  ¶ 6:26 PM 0 comments