Not that it was the purpose of his trip or anything...
Now in CDG, I am just a vegetable. I just popped half a Klonopin because I was feeling a little edgy without any reason. It made me really sleepy and I am not sure if I’ll have the strength to crawl to the boarding gate. I am reading Agatha’s blog which is so genuine. Actually, I suspect that my plane has already taken off but cannot see any screen around. My luggages are full of vintage Tintin albums, new shirts, a biography of Nicolas S. and soft porn gay magazines. I also have a wooden cane that has been searched a thousands time on my way here because I could not fake polio well enough.
Yesterday Nicolas C. and I, after we discussed my theory that Rodolphe actually died, ended up at Raidd Bar. Maybe we also stopped by Cud. I felt invisible which was unpleasant. I stared blankly to a gorgeous go-go boy with stars tattoed on his shoulder who must have showered a dozen times in an elevated Plexiglas cubicle the time we stayed there. He was so polished I could see my reflection on his ass. Then I tried to flirt with a gorgeous semi-deaf kid but only managed to lure his ugly boyfriend. Outside, drunk at 2 a.m., I could not find a cab to drive me back to my hotel and had to walk up rue Etienne Marcel sobering up and meditating on the fact that I haven’t had sex in Paris for a very long time and maybe I should have gone to Le Dépôt. I am such a pussy when it comes to anonymous sex. You guys could teach me so much.
No one warned me FHC was coming back. All this time I thought having the US to myself was part of the divorce settlement.
Posted by: LL | Sunday, March 18, 2007 at 01:15 PM
Le Depot made us gay one summer back in college. We LOVE that place.
Posted by: fishwatch | Monday, March 19, 2007 at 10:18 PM