Hemingway

Hemingway reappears in my life. I've been thinking about him again.

Have you run into him lately?

(Not lunching at the Georges, of course. But maybe tying his shoelace, or peeing in the snow?)

sunday, sunday, sunday

It's not that a pink scarf in some dirt makes me think of you, but it kinda does (I don't love you any less, perhaps more than ever actually).

(the funny contest continues, and did you know i began a new one? i love all of your beautiful fenetre photographs, so i made one myself. benj-? tiff-1)

Ouais, cool !

I met this afternoon a really nice bird and his buddy. Both are great, the first one is playing music while the second is repairing shoes and making keys. This charming team works in the old 5th district of Paris, and since a long time, according the whistles between them (it makes me think about another great team I know, at the office of my fiancée).
After few words exchanged with the man, I talked to the animal (I am always more confortable with animals). I asked him if he was recognizing one of his faraway cousins from America while I was putting the feather of my hat under his eyes.

He seemed amused by my question and said (true!), "ouais, cool!".

oh hey, backyard bill

Backyard Bill, thanks for working your magic. If only life really looked like your photographs.

Paris Ou La Belle Vie

Feet are like sunflowers, they look for warmness.
Mine are really cool now, but I know some feet, faraway, who should get such a good treatment.
There is no bad feet, smelly feet or dry feet neither. All feet can be rescued!

EVEry FrencH GUy CaN DO ThAT Ah aH !!

Small Apartment

You talk to me about a small apartment. And my dad says you have to maintain some sense of mystery. I can't help it that the bathroom is in the kitchen is in the living room is in the bedroom. I think it means I love you.

How I Also Saw You This Morning

As somebody blessed by the early sun.
And beloved by my eyes.

Ca va être une belle journée.

Ce Matin

Ce matin,
I saw Paris by Your eyes.
But with My heart.

I lend you my eyes when you want,
And you give me your hand to write something more interresting than this, okay?

Good deal isn't it?

Another thing we agree on

It's a solid foundation for a relationship: degree of crispiness.

(Image from Flickr--titled Wall of Bacon)

Address Book

I remember the addresses of the homes I have lived in. It's a little game my mom and I like to play together sometimes. "12172 Parkview Lane!" (no park in site) "634 Overhill Drive!" (we lived at the bottom of the hill) "427 Downing Street" (nothing funny to say about that one). She's better with numbers than I, and always wins at Yahtzee (and probably the address game too).

(images via Band of Outsiders)

If Bob Had Said It

By Any Means Possible

(this could be the way I come to Paris)

(this could be the way you come to New York)

(this will be the one we ride in together)

Air fare is far too expensive, and I can't wait any longer to see you. Please consider these other options I have compiled here.

(Images via Life, JonasR)

There Will Be Blood

A message from the "nameless" cat: she has contacted her lawyer.

Did I understand well this movie ?

I want to rectify the beginning of this story which goes in a wrong way. She wasn't frightened. Shy maybe. No, not shy. Let's say: "There was once a very lovely girl, she lived alone except for a cat named Frida".

When I met her, she was knitting "something". I did not understand still today "what" she was knitting in the cab who was riding in this quiet lovely night.

I was only gazing at her long legs. That, I do remember.

We spent some sweet afternoons, talking about everything and nothing, eating some ice-creams also.

Fastly, Frida became jealous of our new relationship, fixing some machiavelic plans to conquier again the heart of her master in a side, and drive me crazy in a other side.

The favourite trick of Frida was to climb courageously on the window

And jump on my head, my shoulders, or the intimate parts of my body, depending what I was doing on the couch.

At last, I decided to take my revenge on Frida and make a donation to the Zoo of the Bronx.

As I could expect it, she was really sad for her cat and she cried.

How to feel insensitive to her tears?

So, we decided to rescue the cat. I mean she.

Days after days, the lovely girl turned in a better mood. She was so happy that she began to say silly things as "I love New York", which is totally wrong for the people who know her.

the space between two buildings part II

perhaps not as beautiful as the space between two buildings. but if you were standing outside on the same sidewalk last night, you would have seen this.

the old west

first time i arrived in denver, i thought 'oh no'. maybe it was because i took the train straight into the ugly part of town.

but going back eight years after that first time, i realize how much i miss el viejo oeste. federal boulevard is a funny place lined with hand-painted signs, a roller coaster of bad pavement (think: vandervoort avenue), and used car parking lots framed by sparkling garland.

i didn't see much of denver in the last few days, but this sign reminds me of everything special about it.

Recette of an Icy Bike Ride

If you had fallen down in the street last night, this is what you would have seen looking up.

A tunnel of lights to lead the way down Graham Avenue.

Past the fruit stand and the nicest woman ever who sells me fruits, past the coffee shop where my friend Amanda works, past the restaurant that is always empty, and past the Italian grocery that sells the best saussicon.

Turn right, and you leave the lights and garland for a quiet ride home.

And The Funky Bunch

Remind you any CK commercial?
Ah! Marky Mark!

Bat or Cat

Frida's (and Benjamin's) favorite place. I find them both perched on this windowsill, taking the sun.

The French" El Camino"

The real name of this car, "Renault 4 L", makes smile in a nostalgic way any French. She was the serious challenger of the more famous "Citroën 2 CV". Also, the 4 L tells the stories of the families which were going in July and August in vacations in the early 60's.
A great car to explore the small roads in France.
A great car of whom the name, as the "El Camino" could be simply "Le Chemin".

Goldfish hand

There are some mornings you wake up, then you take a shower (hope more than "some").
And because of the so cold weather outside, your hands are dry and you put some cream on it. Ok, it could be only a story of hand-creaming but you notice the shape of a little fish. That's what we call "un petit rien" in French, something which makes you smile. As this book from this French author, Philippe Delerm, "La première gorgée de bière" which talks about the little pleasures in the Life.
And Tiffany will notice also her manucure is still perfect three weeks after I left her home.
Whatever, let's make a contest of hand-cream aquarium drawings for winter. And if you have the result of a wale, it means you put too much cream!

Thoughts on "El Camino"

My mom dated a guy for a while (too long) when I was little. His family lived in a peach house. There are a few things I remember about our visits there.

1. His mother who looked like Cher (to me).
2. His grandfather (or someone's grandpa...he was old) who would rub his stubble on the kids' faces.
3. The black El Camino that was permanently parked in the driveway.

While I didn't like numbers one and two on this list, I LOVED that El Camino. That's one car that I have always wanted to drive.

I saw this one on my way to work this morning.

Lovin' Spoonful

I enjoy spoons. I have been known to steal spoons at restaurants (and other table top items-I confess) if I think they might be of better service in my home. Someone in my family had the foresight to save my baby spoons. The silver kind that have a rubber-dipped mouth part (forks have tines, what do spoons have?). Spoons are an important part of my life.

I love stepping into Nikole's daydreams on her blog forty-sixth at grace, and now she's brought a shop into the world too. I wouldn't steal these spoons that Nikole's dad makes with his own hands, because that wouldn't be nice, and I should probably just buy one.

Best Mornings Ever

(I should qualify that statement...Best Mornings Ever Even Though It Was Without Tiffany.)

A hotel room everywhere in the world is a strange place. For a while or for a night, you live there. Most of the time you don't know where you are going to land. Once the night came, you switch off the horrible light above your head. You don't imagine the day after. You complain about the matress too flat, uncomfortable. The noise outside.
But when the day comes, the light touches this room in a different way. Something magic happens and you regret to have woken up alone because this is precisely the moment you would like to share with somebody and simply say:"hey look at the curtain, it seems a disco-ball".