In which FHC is in the XVIth arrondissement

In Paris, it’s not clear what time it exactly is and while waiting for my niece who cannot even hold a conversation (yet … I guess), I shut down all the curtains in my hotel room to avoid the usual wintery low grey sky. I read the obituaries in the Figaro hoping to find some dead high school friends, watch Frenchbenj’s cats reenacting the Peter S./Mark B.’s Apex encounter and listen over and over to “California all the way” by Luna.  I finally have to check what it exactly means but I can’t remember who gave the song to me. I delete Sofia from my myspace friends…bitch. I also end up tolerating “Chicago” by Sufjan Stevens even if overall I think it sucks.

I feel slightly overweight in a Mark H.’s kind of way and pale and it reminds me of a long forgotten time where the first thing I’d do after landing home would be to get a fake tan, a haircut and run to the Overkitsch party to end up getting laid in Vendôme hotel. I also suspect that LL made out with both Go-go Mike and Russ in our absence and we will get to the bottom of this in due time. Also it appears that Nick L. is now single. I also have to clear the hidden files from my professional thingy computer because I surfed a lot on “L’Homme est un concept” while traveling (a really clever blog if you speak French or not).

I’ll have dinner tonight with one of Fagat’s Parisian ex (hint: not the couple).

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[Old Fagat]

Ahem.