In a book about astrological Paris that I was reading in a bookstore, it suggested that Sagittarians like myself would feel most at home at the gates of the city since they would appeal to the sagittarian longing for departure and dispersal. I verified this last night with a trip to Porte Maillot on the western edge of the city. Porte Maillot is essentially something like a big roundabout around which cars jostle for position before racing each other home on the priphrique. Its centre is dominated by the imposing ugliness of the Palais des Congrs built in 1974 for some European thing or other (what happened in 1974 anyway? I was born, that's what) and by the monolithic slab of the Hotel Concorde Lafayette tower. The revolving doors to the building advertise is as a Wifi zone, so maybe I should bring my laptop to the lobby and sit and compose these journals?
The complex also has a rather nice cinema, although it is spoiled by the sales people's insistence on allocating you a seat, which I hate. One chooses one's seat in the cinema, surely, in relation to the disposition of the other people in the theatre, which cannot be decided in advance. I went to see The Incredibles, like an idiot shedding a couple of absurd tears when Violet discovered she really could project a force field strong enough to protect her little brother (it seems the further from reality, the more easily I cry: I have never even come close to crying at the news, and as for my 'real' life... [This is not true: I remember tears in 1995: I remember a train leaving Canterbury East station, I remember a parked car in Leamington Spa...])
But children's movies can't conceal the fact that I find something powerfully erotic about Porte Maillot (although, as you have probably gathered by now, I am pretty much permanently horny as a result of the months and years of unrequited sexual longings bubbling away inside me like some unstable volcano), something to do with its ambiguous position at the frontier of the city, with the business-suited bourgeoisie hurrying home on one side while the sombre presence of the bois de Boulogne crouches just off in the darkness with its buried secrets and circuits of desire.
On the metro home, I stare shamelessly at a young man with mesmerising powder-blue eyes, but he doesn't get the message, or isn't responding.
The complex also has a rather nice cinema, although it is spoiled by the sales people's insistence on allocating you a seat, which I hate. One chooses one's seat in the cinema, surely, in relation to the disposition of the other people in the theatre, which cannot be decided in advance. I went to see The Incredibles, like an idiot shedding a couple of absurd tears when Violet discovered she really could project a force field strong enough to protect her little brother (it seems the further from reality, the more easily I cry: I have never even come close to crying at the news, and as for my 'real' life... [This is not true: I remember tears in 1995: I remember a train leaving Canterbury East station, I remember a parked car in Leamington Spa...])
But children's movies can't conceal the fact that I find something powerfully erotic about Porte Maillot (although, as you have probably gathered by now, I am pretty much permanently horny as a result of the months and years of unrequited sexual longings bubbling away inside me like some unstable volcano), something to do with its ambiguous position at the frontier of the city, with the business-suited bourgeoisie hurrying home on one side while the sombre presence of the bois de Boulogne crouches just off in the darkness with its buried secrets and circuits of desire.
On the metro home, I stare shamelessly at a young man with mesmerising powder-blue eyes, but he doesn't get the message, or isn't responding.
VIEW 25 of 30 COMMENTS
wilmington is only about 2 hours drive from this area (duke is about 20 min from my house), so seeing everyone should be relatively painless. veeee have vays .... muahahahaha.
goodness, i am a ridiculous thing today. its the yellow pjs i tell you.
i'll have to cook you something yummy at some point if you like the home made. i am secretly domestic. shhhhhhhh.