this morning, i and around 485,000 other Kentuckians will wake up to accept begrudgingly that, after 32 years, the highest seat in the state government will now be occupied by a Republican. around 594,000 will rise with grins and self-congratulatory glances as they bask in the reality of their improbable victory. The other 73 percent of this state's citizens will… well, they'll… well, who knows what the fuck they'll think, because they couldn't be bothered to GET UP OFF THEIR LAZY ASSES AND VOTE!

honestly though, i just say that because i finally can after having been one of those lazy asses for almost 10 years.

still, Fletcher has won, and yet another layer of the government that directly affects my life has been peeled away and replaced with something i don't agree with.

at this point, i will refrain from making any direct comments about the circumstances of his victory, but rest assured, it'll be eating at my craw for a while so i'll probably throw some crap out there at you from time to time. despite my total opposition to Fletcher, i think that he has the ability to be a fine governor, as long as he can accomplish the goals he's set out for himself and also get a damned budget approved. i fear for some of the conservative agendas he'll push, i fear for some of the agendas he won't push because of his indebtedness to special interests, and i fear for his ability to fight for the betterment of kentucky outside the state–against the policies of an administration to which he has proved so blindly loyal.

i hope that he can pass his medical malpractice damage cap agenda, and that he can actually do something to shore up medicaid and reduce prescription prices in the state as he's promised. i hope that he can work to protect the individual liberties of kentucky's citizens, and that he can improve the state of the educational system.

i hope that he understands that, especially in light of the platform he campaigned on ("democrats are dirty filthy amoral people" — paraphrased) that he will endeavor to keep himself and every member of his administration scandal free; because i know that if the Democratic Party gets even one whiff of scandal off him, they will be on him like a pack of dogs. and even more so, they will be digging for it. hopefully though, they will be gracious enough to not actually hinder his efforts. the last thing this state needs right now is political gridlock.

there's also an interesting/amusing/ironic/sort-of-sad anecdote from election day relating to yours truly, but in the interest of drama and me getting to sleep, i'll postpone the actually fairly short tale until later.

well, after almost a month of little-to-no internet connection at the ol' homestead, we've finally switched to evil cable broadband access. seems pretty good so far… and it works, which is a big improvement at this point.

it's been a busy few weeks beside, with me finally taking the time to start entering comics into the database program after over a year of neglecting the task. (which i did pretty-much simply because i had no 'net connection at home, thus no ready distraction).

i also finally managed to get out of the house long enough to go visit my friend nate (a formerly frequent commenter who's been too busy trying to make people call him Doctor to pop in for inane chatter.) it's been a while since i've seen him, and we had a good visit where we did next to nothing but watch TV and video games all weekend, which, in and of itself was pretty much an off-continent vacation for me, as little as i do either of those things.

and the most wonderful event of the past weeks has been the celebration of my one year anniversary with my incredible girlfriend. i've never managed to maintain a relationship for more than 5 or 6 months at the most, so this is a major accomplishment for both of us–her, for putting up with me, and me, for not screwing things up. being with her has made this the best year of my life–one that i want to repeat and improve upon as many times and as much as possible.

in other news, the kentucky gubernatorial race has been really ticking me off. personal attack ads are (unfortunately) not uncommon in political races, but usually they're at least defensible. the Fletcher campaign has been participating in quite a bit of it's own misrepresentation (of the candidate himself, and of his opponent), but the most egregious example has been the ads put out by the Republican Governors Association. most of these ads have been denounced as outright falsehoods by every responsible media outlet in the state, and some of the statements made in them have even been denounced by RGA members themselves. but don't take my word for it, pick up a newspaper, i'm sure you'll find mention. or better yet, a page on Chandler's site collects several quotes from papers around the state. to top it off, the RGA isn't even authorized by the Fletcher campaign to place these ads (though of course, he doesn't ask them to pull them) which are also not paid for by campaign funds. is this legal? unfortunately, yes. what it amounts to is "legally" untraceable donations to a political campaign. what it amounts to is soft-money spending to promote a political candidate. they've taken steps to ensure that the ads are technically legal (they never say "vote for Fletcher" or anything like that). and now, it's prompted similar assistance for the Chandler campaign. but at least we know that Chandler is capable of acting independently from his party and any special interests, which is something Fletcher has shown no ability or desire to do.

Restoring Truth is an interesting (if poorly constructed–hey, i'm a web developer, it's a big deal to me) site run by the Chandler campaign showcasing many of Fletcher's misrepresentations, and outlining how his political speeches don't necessarily reflect his voting record. on one of the pages of this site, it mentions that it was put together for about $50, which is pretty believable when you consider the number of typos and misspellings i caught while going through it. the navigation leaves a little to be desired as well, but the information is valuable and worth the effort to retrieve.

one of the things that Fletcher constantly tries to push on Chandler is an association with the scandal-ridden Patton administration. for anyone who actually believes this line of bullshit, i'd recommend you read (at least) this page outlining Chandler's Ethics Plan. overall, it outlines Chandler's commitment to government ethics, and in several places lists supporting evidence from his years as State Auditor and Attorney General. like specifically, how he has cracked down on members of his own party when they've done wrong.

in the end, you need to get out there and vote for who you most agree with. and keep in mind while reading that a "spin-free" forum doesn't exist. Chandler applies spin, Fletcher most certainly applies spin, i apply spin. try to get the facts, and when you can't build a complete picture, at least be aware that you can't.

i'm going to vote against Fletcher because i don't like his politics, i don't like his ties to the special interests, and i don't like his lying to the public. i'm going to vote for Chandler because i generally (though not totally) agree with his politics, i love his ability to break from strict party loyalties in pursuit of justice, i like his committment to ethics in government (self-policing and watchdogging), and i like how he's tried to run a "clean" campaign (if you disregard that mess during the primaries) promoting his own merits and outlining his opponent's record without resorting to snippy and erroneous personal attacks (as far as i've seen).

but again, to reiterate, read shit for yourselves, get the facts, make your own decision. what's right to me may not be for you, which is what democracy is all about.

well, it was almost inevitable. yet another David vs. Goliath story, with David on the losing end.

Hawley-Cooke Booksellers, that local bastion of independent business for 25 years, the annual Best of Louisville winner, and consistent home away from home for the literate elite, has finally bowed to the pressure of competition against national and multinational chain stores. the sale of Hawley-Cooke to Borders has a kind of circular and poetic logic to it, but that doesn't erase the sting and air of defeat.

i worked at Hawley-Cooke for a little over 2 years, and, despite the lousy pay (at least, 'til i landed the "webmaster" position, for a time), it was one of the best jobs i ever had, and the employees were some of the best people i've ever had the pleasure of working with. in fact, if i hadn't been fired from that job, i'd probably still be there ('cause i'm not entirely sure i could've made myself quit, even in my own best interest, and despite the ire i felt for one of the owners).

the plight of the locally owned business has always been one of those personal soapbox topics for me, and if you get me started, i'll rail for hours against the Wal-Marts, McDonalds, Barnes & Nobles, and Starbucks of the world.

i will accede that there are certain benefits the national chain stores can bring to the table–lower prices, better selection, and potentially better quality (except, of course, in the case of McDonalds who'd put cat shit in a bun and call it a "new taste sensation!"). but the only thing the national chains can't guarantee, and in most cases are not likely to provide, is the level of service and "human element" that the locally-owned business must provide as a matter of survival.

as a locally-owned business, it is imperative that you provide uncompromising service with a human touch, so that your customers will pick your business over the other options. a relationship must be established that will make the customer want to support you despite the convenience or lower prices they might find with a competitor. this is something Hawley-Cooke managed to do for many years, excepting, of course, the occasional lapse, oversight, or grumpy employee. obviously however, sometimes even this isn't enough. and really, there is no other way for a local business to compete against a national chain, and as it's been proven time and again, the people of this nation will over time almost inevitably choose the plastic apple over the slightly bruised–but real–one. hell, even i've gone into Barnes & Noble more than Hawley-Cooke in the past two years, because it's closer to where i work. it's a difficult trap to avoid, and the sinister aspects are well-hidden behind the wood paneling and fancy signage.

there is still at least one "major" (if you count 2 smallish locations as major) independent bookseller in this town, so, the next time you're in a literary mood, seek out the nearest Carmichael's Bookstore and support local business. i can almost guarantee that if they don't have what you're looking for in stock, they can order it for you.

thanks to ben for gently breaking this news to my non-media-consuming ass in the first place, and for the ready-to-steal link to the news article.

due to the clamoring of my adoring public (hi Jennifer!), and since i finally managed to get off my ass and get the newest LP show flyers up on the site and get it updated, now seemed like a good time for a quick update.

in case you're wondering, yes, didn't quite make it to a post about the final day in DC/Jess' wedding yet, but… i'm getting there. maybe tomorrow when i'm taking a lazy half-day off work.

anyway, so… the festival itself kind of sucked. it was a joke really. yes, we are grateful to have had the experience of playing in that kind of an atmosphere, and we did have something of a good time, but the aspects of the festival that were supposed to be kick ass really weren't.

first off, first thing we get there, we drag our shit up to the gate, and whaddaya know? there're no dollys, no hand trucks, no big burly guys with bandanas waiting to help us lug our equipment to and from the gear storage and stage areas. these were things our festival brochure and the coordinator himself promised us would be there. so, in light of this first and most telling lie, who's glad that we decided not to pack that big ass Farfisa organ? i am, that's who.

i did take the initiative and accosted a Six Flags employee who was pushing around two dollys, and practically begged him for it. it worked, and i was happier. of course, our big grey tub is so damned heavy that it was still a major chore to haul it, even with a dolly. nevertheless my back and arms were mostly saved for the show.

we got to the stage, and the stage manager wasn't around, just his able bodied non-meal-voucher having assistant who was actually fairly helpful. we didn't get our meal vouchers that day because a) the stage manager wasn't there at any point while we were there, and b) because when we got done playing we were just too damned tired to give a rats ass, so jim, lori, and brax all went home. (i stayed and enjoyed the park for a while with my lovely sara).

anyway, i digress. after jim dropped the keyboard (at least 50% of our sound comes from that keyboard) and scared the crap out of us all, we mounted the stage and set up in record time (under 20 minutes, i do believe), then proceeded to have technical difficulties for the next five minutes after we tried to start playing.

once we got the technical issues worked out and got into our first song, it became apparent that we were going to have more issues, dealing with the stage monitors being adjusted for a mental patient with bad hearing in one ear but a good imagination. the monitors sucked. now, admittedly, as paul has pointed out, we could've gotten on the sound guys case a bit and had him adjust things, but my guitar was already feeding back as it was, plus the fact that we've never even worked with a "real" sound guy before, and we just kind of went with it. of course, come to find out after talking to the Pine Club the next day, they had similar issues with the monitor setup ("we couldn't hear shit up there") and they at least have quite a bit of experience between them of working with an engineer on a sound board. so, my conclusion is that the sound guy who was supposedly so experienced really either wasn't, or just couldn't compensate for the crappy equipment or stage dynamics. apparently, it sounded just lovely off-stage so i guess it's not all bad. it's just too bad we couldn't hear the beat and were guessing where we were in the songs half the time.

we did make it through though, and with at least half-a-minute to spare before our scheduled stop time. we hauled ass off stage with bile on our tongues, broke down, and got the hell out of there.

as i said, sara & I stayed and enjoyed the park for a while, if you can call getting bruised and cracked ribs enjoyable. my advice, if you go to Kentucky Kingdom, no matter how simple and "fun" it looks, do NOT ride the Roadrunner Express. that is probably the most violent coaster i've been on, and it's just a step above a kiddie coaster. we walked around for a while after that, but it made my head hurt, and we didn't feel like waiting in long lines, so we left the park and headed back to the house for a movie and some popcorn.

the next day, brax and i headed back out to the "festival", and we also walked around quite a bit. we finally managed to make it to the "big" "main" artists area the Paramarx Arena, and found to our utter lack of surprise, that it was two booths, a stage, and a smaller stage where some lawyer was talking about "how to make it in the music industry" to a crowd of maybe 15 people. yaaay louisville music! there were probably a total of 25 (this is me being generous) people in the "Arena" altogether, including brax & myself. one booth was for the mutual-admiration club called LMIA, the other was for a local recording studio. outside the arena was another stage with a girl doing karaoke… well, it was supposedly original music, i'm sure, but she was just singing over a tape. despite the promised in the festival promotional literature, there was no booth or tent set up for band photos, there was no catering, there were no "industry reps" within eyeshot, at least none set up in any sort of obvious or approachable place. so, with another 90% of the festival promises shattered, brax & i walked back to stage #5 to catch the Pine Club, get some water, and rest our baked and weary bodies.

post pine, we went and rode some roller coasters. Chang is highly recommended, T2 not so much. we walked around a hell-of-a-lot, but when we came up on some long lines at some of the other coasters we were moderately interested in riding, we decided to forego it, and to head home. all-in-all, we were there for maybe 3.5 hours.

it was a worthwhile experience, and we can now say that we've played a theme park, but it's not something we're looking to repeat. no more festivals. only dark, cool, small places where people are there for a reason (those being either a. to drink, or b. to see a rock show).

right now, of course, we're looking forward to August 9th. and you should be too.

Day Three: today, we decided to visit the other monuments in the Mall, and to spend some time at the Air & Space Museum (this was really my only mandatory activity for the whole trip–i wasn't about to visit D.C. without going to the Air & Space Museum).

we set out from the probably somewhere in the range of 10:30 to 11:00, and proceeded to the Mall. we made it back to the Washington Monument, then made our way towards the construction zone, avoiding touring school-children, gaggles of the elderly, and middle-aged couples walking hand in hand discussing whatever it is that middle-aged hand-in-hand type couples discuss.

one end of the lawn was boarded, roped, fenced, and otherwise closed off, but there were gateways through the fencing at the crosswalks to let onto the sidewalks that lead along the reflecting pool at the foot of the Lincoln Memorial. now, if you've not been to D.C., or if you've been but have never seen the reflecting pool, let me just prepare you… it is a green festering dirty filthy mess. not nearly so "beautiful" as we may've been led to believe by the movies, photographs, and other images. that shit looks nasty, and, while i didn't walk directly along the edge of the pool, i imagine it probably stunk. it looked like it would stink. much like our society and especially our government, it looks pretty nice from far away, but once you get right up close, you can see that it's unkempt, rundown, dirty, and ugly. "reflecting" indeed.

anyway… before we made it to the Lincoln Memorial, i noticed the Korean War Veterans Memorial off to the side as we approached, so i detoured our contingent to go get a peek. i remembered ben and geoff talking about it at some point in the past, and remembered the images i'd seen from it, so i wanted to go get a real look at it. it was pretty cool, but i think this was really the point in the trip where i started wishing that i could visit these places without hundreds of other people. i couldn't "connect" with the memorial, or any of the memorials we visited, because i couldn't "disconnect" from all the people milling about.

next we went on to the Lincoln Memorial. it is huge. it was cool.

after that, the Vietnam Veterans Memorial. my companions were all visibly moved by it, once we reached the other side, but once again, somehow i managed not to take it in or be effected by it. i have no immediate personal connection to that conflict, at least not through a familial loss, because though most of the male members of my extended family (who were of age) did serve in that war, they all returned.

after the Vietnam Memorial, we left the Mall and headed for the nearest Metro stop (10 blocks away or some crazy shit like that) and headed back around to the Air & Space Museum.

you've doubtless heard the old analogy of the kid in the candy store, right? well, that certainly could've been applied to me. rockets and manned space capsules and jets and… just all kinds of really cool shit.

probably my favorite of the exhibits was the Apollo moon shot exhibit, followed closely by the history of aviation exhibit. they also had the crazy ass space flight simulators or airplane simulators or whatever they were–the ones with the pneumatic chambers that shake, move, twist, and turn the little cabin that you're sitting in. i really wanted to do that, but the wait was over an hour, and we were only planning on spending 4 or so there.

the freakiest thing of the whole trip though, was when we decided to get some lunch after walking through a couple exhibits. there was a food court area in a sectioned off area of the building, and the restaurant was a combined McDonald's (ick), Boston Market, and Donato's Pizzeria. i can hardly describe the level of freakishness that this fast-food place has managed to achieve… think of a drive-through restaurant for race-car drivers, only there're no cars… think of cattle lining up to be slaughtered, and each being able to pick which particular shape of knife gets to be drawn across its throat… think of being shoved in a bright, metal & glass elevator car, going up at ridiculous speeds and having grease, meat, bread and french fries squeezed through a strainer in the ceiling above you.

ok, now think of something just a touch less freakish.

yeah. fucking packed… PACKED with people—scads, scores, gobs of people—in long lines where you first place your order with a disinterested person sitting in a bright metal chair, and then are told to go to the next person who will collect your money. then, after paying, you have to step up to the "counter" to pick up your "meal." each successive person looking like they give even less of a shit than the last, and the food you're handed, if hot, is only just barely so. hell, i'm freaking out right now just thinking about it.

so anyway, we ate the crappy food at the freaky food court, then went on back out to get some more exhibits under our belts before meeting ben & mary (who'd been sitting on a bench or in the planet-arium for most of the day).

after the Museum, we were dog tired (and still freaked out about the food court), so we went back to the hotel and crashed for a few hours, before going back out on the town for dinner.

this evening we kind of jazzed it up a bit. we walked out to this place that ben had found (we tended to leave the dining decisions to ben & mary it seemed, so we ended up eating at much more high-class establishments than i can imagine i would've picked) and checked in at the front table. there were actually two separate restaurants in the same… er… restaurant–one for the lower upper middle class, the other for the lower upper class. ben picked the one he thought was the former, and we proceeded downstairs to a nice big round table with all the accoutrements including the cloth napkins all folded and placed decoratively on the plate. we opened the fancy menus in the nice leather-bound folders, and stared aghast at the $15 asking price for a house salad. needless to say, we stared even more aghast at the $40 – $60 dollar entrees, then promptly told the waiter that there'd been a mistake and we needed to go back upstairs to the "cheap seats".

somehow, at this point, $5 for a Beam & Coke, and $15 for an entree didn't seem all that bad.

the food was good (thank god, or someone would've lost an eye or limb) and we were satisfied with our last day & night in D.C.

well, almost. sara & i decided to go back to the White House, as there was some issue of film not advancing properly in her camera the night before, and she wanted to make sure she got some night shots of the White House. we did, and we had a nice leisurely stroll through the streets of D.C., just the two of us hand-in-hand, talking about whatever it is that young hand-in-hand type couples talk about on their last night on their first vacation together.

we went back to the hotel and prepared for our early morning departure, and a day of potential chaos.

this isn't a comment card, it's a direct pipeline to my ass.

we've just gotten back from the single worst steak 'n shake experience we've ever had. our server (also the store's general manager) was either extremely stoned, or he hadn't slept in 5 days. he couldn't seem to grasp the fact that there were three of us sitting at the table, as he only brought us two straws and two glasses of water, then ended up putting my and paul's orders under the same "seat". we had to keep reminding him of the things we hadn't gotten yet. To his credit, he did realize that he was giving us shitty service, and offered to give us free deserts.

after the meal, when we went up to the register, the old biddy up there–already embroiled in some issue with the previous customers–essentially flatly refused to split our check up any further than the two seats already listed. now, at this point, paul was pretty pissed of and not willing to prolong it, so he just picked up the tab. walking out, we decided we really should have told we weren't paying, and left.

neil picked up a comment card, and great hilarity ensued as we imagined the following sequence of events:

we imagined that their response might be similar to the following:

when neil mentioned M'Butu, i think paul nearly crashed the car.

Didn't wake up today until 1:30pm, which isn't as bad as Day 2, but still set me back a bit. After taking a shower & doing Sara's laundry, it was well into 4:00pm and I was looking forward to a nice leisurely walk around Montmartre. I called Sara in an attempt to see if I could stop by her office to use the internet, but ended up reaching her at Paulo's where she was napping before prepping dinner.

I'd forgotten all about dinner, which was to be at 7:30pm. All I could think was "another day wasted in Paris."

I did find out from her all the details pertinent to dinner, like Paulo's address and the codes to enter his building. She also told me of a little internet shop on Rue de la Pompe where i could get online.

After finishing the laundry, I set out for the shop. I found it with no problems (i'm finally really getting the hang of navigating Paris' streets), and signed on. I attempted to activate international roaming on my phone, wrote a post for my weblog, and checked my email. No email from Katrina (co-worker) yet, so I guess either there's no company news or she's just forgotten to email me.

After fighting with the french keyboard for 20 minutes or so (very difficult for a touch typist to adjust to a completely foreign layout), I got done what i needed to do and set out for the next half of my stroll. Being 5:30pm or so, I decided to just head in the general direction of Paulo's.

I figured i'd stop at a cafe along the way for a croissant & coffee. I made my way somewhat aimlessly, which I enjoyed since i knew i was heading in the right direction. Of course, I did check the map frequently to make sure i was still on track.

Eventually, I found a nice place, and sat down, ordered a cappuccino & croissant, and read for a bit. This was probably one of the my most perfect moments in Paris. I was… unencumbered. No longer ill at ease with not knowing the language, fairly certain of where i was and where i was going (in a physical sense at least, if not in the sense of "in my life" in general), and didn't feel rushed to get there.

You could say that I finally just enjoyed the moment–being an American in Paris, sitting in a cafe surrounded by Parisians, drinking coffee, and chuckling quietly to myself as I read a book by one of my favorite authors.

I sat for a while until the waiter came out and gave me change, then leisurely got up and started on my way again.

I found Av. Mozart (my next "checkpoint") fairly quickly and started down towards Paulo's. Generally, as i've walked around Paris, i've looked at the shops on both sides of the street and occasionally at people as they'd pass.

About halfway to Rue Jasmin, I happened to look across the street to see a man who looked remarkably like my father. I looked back again, and realized that it was my father… and my mother, and my little brother. I hesitated briefly before deciding to cross the street and greet them.

Fate can certainly play strange cards sometimes, or as mom said (to which my dad, surprisingly enough, laughed)…(and i have no idea how to interpret that) "God watches out for us."

Anyway, as it turns out, the family & Kristin & Ryan were–for all intents and purposes–lost. They knew where they were, but they weren't sure where they were supposed to be going. They had bought one phone card that didn't work, then a second phone card that worked but wouldn't allow them to call Sara's cell phone. They were, in a word, stuck. Out of options, they were going to start trying to call peoples' work numbers (at 6:30pm, at shot in the dark at best).

So, here I am and here they are, fortune smiling down upon us. I noticed them, so one must wonder on whom fortune had laid her biggest hand.

In any event, family and friends successfully rescued by Fate, or God, or both; we proceeded to Paulo's without further incident. Dinner went wonderfully, the two families meeting for the first time.

After dinner, my plan was to make up for lost time and to go walk Montmartre. Of course, my little bro is like a lamprey at times and insisted on going with me. So, i went back to Sara's place with the fam., and we waited for Kristin and Ryan to show up with their luggage.

Once it got past 10:45, I realized that it would be much too late to get any decent time at all in Montmartre, since the last metro would be between 12:30 and 1:00 at the latest.

So, plans foiled once again, I got a head start on my journal and map notations.

Hopefully, tomorrow i'll get to walk around Montmartre before the 5 pm train to Deauville. There is still so much of Paris I haven't seen (& it is mostly my own fault, wasting three days), so it's pretty much certain that I will have to return when the days aren't so stressful for my sister, and when I can afford it.

I've also realized that the trip would have been much better with a companion. Someone who could ensure I get up and go to bed at a decent hour.

As much as it's nice to have Paris one-on-one (or one-on-2-million, depending on your point-of-view), it would also be nice to share it with someone.

i actually managed to get up early enough today to go meet Sara for lunch, and we went to a little place near her work & got some regular French food (i.e. not fancy, but still decidedly French). i was struggling with the concept that i would look "silly" if i ordered coffee with the meal. it's been four days, and i think i've had maybe six cups of coffee, four of those being espressos. What i wouldn't give for a good cup of Kroger brand automatic-drip right now. i've been staving off the cravings with Earl Grey since Sara showed me where her teapot and tea stash were.

Anyway, after lunch, Sara headed for home since she wasn't feeling well and was taking a half-day off of work. i headed to the Trocadero for a good look at the Eiffel Tower.

It is quite a site walking out on the terrace of the Palais de Challot and getting the first full-on unobstructed view of the Tower. Of course the Trocadero is a major tourist attraction, so i didn't allow myself to feel like a heel for grabbing my camera and taking several shots.

Interesting thing was, as i was meandering on the terrace, 2 couples and one giddy little Asian youth asked me to take pictures of them standing on the terrace with the Tower in the background. i briefly debated asking them to return the favor, but decided that pictures of me with the Tower would be silly. if i regret that decision later, i can always drag my brother down there and have him take some.

After some pics from the terrace, i walked down the steps toward the Tower. Crossing one of the streets, i found a vendor selling souvenirs, and i made my first souvenir purchase of the trip.

i crossed the Seine and approached the Tower. At the intersection of roads running in front, i stood at the corner and took several more photos. Then i walked down along the Seine to the Place de la Resistance, where i searched for a bit before finding the dog-shit sign my sister had told me about at lunch. i took some pics of it for her.

Next, i crossed the Seine again, stopping to take a few shots of the river, then went back to the little cafe from my first night in Paris–my first official Parisian navigational landmark.

i stopped at the cafe and successfully ordered "un caf?" without having to resort to english. i sat for a while and rested from my walk.

After coffee, i set out initially to find a Metro station so i could buy some more tickets. i didn't actually find the station i was looking for, and figured back-tracking to an uncertain location would be a waste of time. i pressed on, heading for the Arc de Triomphe.

i got there with no troubles, and took several daylight shots of the arc which, since i'd remembered my wide-angle lens this time, included some full views instead of the partial views i got last night.

Satisfied with the number of pictures and feeling body-tired, i walked down Av. Foch towards "home." Before i turned onto Faisanderie, i walked down to the nearby Metro station and bought my new tickets.

Once i got home, i realized i was completely exhausted and didn't want to go back out immediately, so i hung out with sis, read a book, and had dinner with Sara & Andrew a bit later. After dinner, and after washing dishes, the debate raged… go out now for only an hour or a little more, or read and go to bed early…

i decided to stay in for the night to give my muscles a little break, and so i can get to sleep at a "more reasonable" hour. Of course, it's now 2:14 am… which, by some standards is still quite unreasonable.

But hey, at least i'm finishing my journal entry at 2:15, instead of just getting started on it.

—

and thus went my most "productive" day in Paris. it was a good day.

for the last couple months, there's been this thing going on in my life that i've not really delved into here on bipolar. well, now that that's been brought to it's (inevitable?) conclusion, and since i can't say these things to the involved party, i thought i'd share them with you. who better to unload on than a motley collection of close friends and complete strangers?

she has returned once again, or rather, had returned. a couple months ago–after a particularly low point in what has become an otherwise smooth emotional roller-coaster, and after i'd just been thinking about her with more frequency–she called me up out of the blue.

she'd been almost completely out of my life for close to two years, and the last time i'd even seen her (at a distance) was more than a year earlier. she called me up and we talked. we talked and we hung out. we hung out and spent hours together. me, being the eternally optimistic, overly forgiving person that i am, was willing to give her the benefit of the doubt.

i was doing alright, really i was. maintaining emotional control, not letting my thoughts run away, not letting my heart get carried off without my head. i was wary. optimistic, forgiving, understanding, but wary.

among the many things she expressed to me during the time we were hanging out, was the "fact" that she had missed me over the year(s), thought about me quite often, and just wanted to be able to hang out with me again. how sweet.

and i tried to believe her, i really did. unfortunately, the same warning signs kept popping up that i'd learned to take notice of in our previous "moments." she would call and complain bitterly about how bad her days were, about how she had no friends, no one to talk to, nothing to do. how utterly bored she was. i let these things slide. i know her. but, (and does anyone else notice this or is it just me?) it seemed to me like i was a "last resort"–she had no one else to call, so she called me. there was nothing better going on, so she wanted to hang out with me.

personally, i like my friends to be busy. i like for them to be busy and still want to at least say "hey" to me, to at least take a few minutes and just talk about nothing. i have always got something i can be doing, and sometimes i have a bad habit of letting that keep me from doing this for my friends, but that's my fault, something i'm aware of, and something i'm trying to work on. just ask nate, he'll tell you.

anyway, i know that i don't want to be "better than nothing" for anyone, no matter what the circumstances. and, especially if this girl who has fucked me over in extreme ways and on multiple occasions wants to come back into my life and tell me she cares and misses me, she'd better damn well be able to show me that that's true. she'd better say "y'know, i've got some work that i need to get done, but i *really* want to see you tonight. you wanna go get some coffee for an hour or so?"

so, then this france trip came along, and after we'd been spending all this time getting to know each other again, trying to be friends again, talking about what the possibilities were for us as something maybe more than friends, i leave for a week. i leave for a week, and the night before i leave, i have to practically *beg* her to come hang out with me to see me before i take off. hello, flag on the play.

and i called her from the airport the next day and i said "hey, if you're thinking about me, you know you can call my cell phone and leave me little messages throughout the week. i'd like that." when i get back home, there's one message–from Tuesday. fine, y'know, she's busy working, she feels weird leaving me message she knows i'm not getting. fine. whatever. no big deal.

i get home after my long ass flight and call her, but she doesn't answer. i call her again before i go to bed that night, again, no answer. finally, she calls me the next day, and talks about her drunken weekend and apologizing that she didn't call back sooner. she tells me that school's just starting and she's really busy. she can't see me. she's got class tonight. she calls me after class on her way home, and says she has to do homework. she can't see me.

well, so much for being missed.

so, i say y'know what, nevermind. if she wants to hang out, she'll call me. when she's not busy with school, she'll call me. after not hearing from her for several days, the obvious realization sets in. in actuality, she doesn't really care. she doesn't really miss me. she makes no effort to spend even the smallest amount of time with me after i've been on the other side of the planet for a week, so it's fairly obvious that i just don't mean that much to her. and if she doesn't care, then why should i?

i haven't called her back since… i guess it was last wednesday or so, when we talked and i told her some of this stuff. about how i felt like a "convenience friend". how i felt that she didn't really care. she, of course, gave me all sorts of excuses, apologized again, and told me that she really did care. well, again, i think the truth is fairly obvious. she called yesterday and bitched about how "the phone works both ways." my response was just "i know, i've just got a lot going on right now." she called again today to say that she "got the message," and that she was just calling to say "hi" and "goodbye."

i thought about all the different ways that i could undertake to get the explanation of all this across to her–i could call her, i could email her, i could write her a letter and take it to her at work. but i know that, if i did that, it wouldn't make any difference. it would be wasted breath, wasted thought, wasted effort. she won't get it, she won't accept it, she won't learn from it.

still, i had to get this off my chest somehow. i had to go through it to get past it. now it's out there. now it's done.

Not with a bang, but a whimper.

Today was my first day "on my own" in Paris, so, of course, I did the classic Matt maneuver of getting in a good 12 hour sleep. It doesn't help that i've been staying up until 4:30 – 5:00 in the morning. Add to that the lack of an alarm clock, et voilà, sleep city.

So i woke up a bit depressed and embittered, slowly smoked a few cigarettes, had a bit of old baguette with olive oil & pepper, then attempted to call Sara on her cell.

About 20 minutes after calling her, Andrew showed up from work and began preparing dinner, which was to be in two hours. I decided that 2 hours was a little too short a time for me to go walking about, so i just grabbed a book and sat for a while.

Sara got home a bit later, then Andrew's parents arrived for the dinner. Andrew made fajitas which were quite good. His parents were pleasant and enjoyable company, and it was good to meet my sister's soon-to-be inlaws.

After dinner and a bit of digestion time, i decided to go ahead and do some of the walking I'd planned for earlier today. Andrew & Sara scuttled off to bed, and after a 20 minute fight with a broken zipper on my backpack, I got on my way towards the Arc de Triomphe for some night photos.

On my way down Faisanderie and down Av. Bugeaud, I had to avoid a few prostitutes (both male & female), and merely mumbled a quiet "bonsoir" to one particular girl who shouted "Hi!" to me in a bright cheerful voice. I was making excellent use of brax's city-stride, walking fast without (hopefully) looking like i was trying to.

At some point, i lost my bearings and turned off Av. Foch, if, indeed, i was ever on it, and arrived somehow on Raymond Poincare and walked down to the Place de Victor Hugo. i attempted to reorient myself with the help of my map, but ended up walking down Victor Hugo in the wrong direction anyway. i ended up at Av. Henry Martin before i realized my error, and turned around there & headed back up Victor Hugo.

Of course, had i been thinking properly, i could have gone on to the Trocadero for night-shots of the Eiffel Tower, but i was too set on the Arc as my primary destination.

I finally made it to the Arc & tried to get several shots from unobstructed perspectives, but i'm afraid most of them will be worthless. I also had left my wide-angle lens back at the apt., so I wasn't really able to get any full shots. i seem to be taking a lot of panoramas anyway, so i guess it just fits the photographic theme for this trip anyway.

Once i was mostly satisfied with the number of pictures taken, I set off down the Champs Élysées. Again, had i been thinking more clearly, or planned ahead a little better, i could have taken a number of much straighter shots to the Eiffel.

About halfway down the Champs Élysées, I turned right onto Av. Montaigne, the expensive street from the first night's adventures. Along the way, I found the expensive dress, shoes, and purse, and got a couple pictures of them for entertainment value.

At the end of Montaigne, I passed the cafe where we'd sat for drinks and crossed over to Av. de President Wilson.

Originally, i was going to walk up to the Trocadero, but i checked the time and realized that i really should get home & to bed (it's now four hours later as i write this… so much for good intentions). So i veered off onto Longchamp and walked the rest of the way home.

Just before i reached Faisanderie, a man turned and called out to me (in French, of course) and the suddenness of having to interact blew what little french i had straight out of my mind. "No parlez français," i replied.

No matter, he knew enough english to request a cigarette, said "merci" several times, and then was on his way. I didn't think to ask if he needed a light as well, and i couldn't think of a way to say "it's nothing" in French (or "you're welcome" for that matter.)

I got home shortly thereafter and took a few outside shots of the apt. before going inside.

Tomorrow i need to get some more Metro tickets and get out of the 16th for a while. After lunch with Sara, anyway.

—

a shorter one today, as i ended up screwing up most of that day by sleeping or getting lost. c'est la vie.