for my memory:  boîte de nuit privé, c-street lights, girl in red, long horse-like ponytail ,cigarette smoke, ennui, more intelligent but the foggiest mind veiled with lace, invisible door.

danse danse danse, whiskey or whatever, sweater falling, hips and hers, creepycreepy, danse, kiss, daylight. 

Yesterday was the day. They say Cannes only has 65 overcast days a year. Well, since we’ve been here we’re probably maxing out soon. Yesterday was the day that the filtered light took the blinding glitter and brilliant shine of everything off, and Cannes was matte. And it was more beautiful than the golden days. The visibility of a matted Cannes gives way for realizations. Like when you’re walking down a busy street in a foreign country and as you hear snips of conversation from all around you from passer bys and loungers, you no longer feel so foreign because you understand what they’re saying. And not just understand but automatically register it without a single thought. And all of a sudden voila, they’re people. Nobody is making fun of you, monopolizing on your obviously not French sense of style, or having the lofty philosophical debates that would make Sartre and Descartes proud. It’s the most banal things. People evolve into personalities, mothers, fathers, tourists, shopkeepers, students, deviously bored pre-teens…Nobody is just French anymore. And then croissants become fancier donuts. And Gatorade is labeled as “Red Orange,” murky and thick. Figuring out a French photo booth machine in the supermarket and making it out alive, without help (though the touch screen put up a good fight) makes for a successful day. Yesterday was the most Cannoise day. Because I don’t feel so strange. Things are different but familiar. I guess this is assimilation.

my roommates are snoring
and its still not loud enough

billy said yesterday the sky was you

i said i still feel the same

people might think im fucking crazy
maybe they are loud enough

words cant define what i feel inside whoneedsthem

caught with this virrrrrrus of my mind i give in

to my

disease

of my

needs

‘Cause she’s a cruel mistress
And a bargain must be made
But oh, my love, don’t forget me
I let the water take me