Pride

Perfect weather patterns and the perfect blend of gin and juice. sunshine and citrus brew. it was a beautiful day indeed. i got my eyes full of flesh and a true account of the current romantic maket in our metropole. i really got into my role as fabulousfaghag-for-a-day, and worked hard for my neck full of beads. i didn't have to show any leg either. just holler lots of props at the float folks. at one point i felt like a club-hopper on crack, afternoon tipsy, steady stream of floats boomin out beats that put me in a serious twitch. the music was so intoxicating (or maybe the seagrams) and i found myself carried away in a d.j. freeze dance as the ambiance blitz flashed and teased. i saw my karoake competition up-close and personal. godbless 'em, one and all.

at one point i became a little misty-eyed as a pang of nostalgia hit and i thought, man, i'm gonna miss this country. and the pride started to sink in.

i've been trying to live more in the moment, but it gets harder the closer i get to departure. i'm mentally straddling an ocean, leading a double life, speaking a strange franglais. there's a map of Paris tacked up in my cube at work, another in my backpack put out by the Paris police that they affectionately call the l'Indispensable. i find myself fascinated by maps, staring into the labrynthine streets like a math problem, a riddle. la rue nicolo et rue de la pompe. soon this intersection will be as familiar as state and lake.

my tabbycat is about to embark on a major life adventure and has no idea. when he sits pummeling my chest and lovingly nicking me with his claws, i try to explain to him the future, to teach him a french phrase or two. he just purrs as his lids drop sleepy over green eyes as if to say, just keep loving me. he'll have a new four-legged roommate, a little white westy girl named willow. all she cares about is good walk, some grub and a belly rub, so they'll be chums for sure.