Sophie Tucker - Some Of These Days

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I would have to say that this song has reached public domain, being from 1911 and all…

I finished reading Nausea by Sartre the other morning and downloaded this song while reading his last passage of sitting in his cafe in Bouville as the waitress, Madeleine, puts on his favorite song.

Though I was told this book was rather depressing I didn’t find it to be such, but instead just more of an interesting look at life that I could relate to. Perhaps I lead a depressing life? Meh. I just like to think that I have a much more factual grasp on life and, truth be told, life is not a positive thing, but is instead a rather negative thing that we all struggle through.

Cups of tea at the end of the day to make the world right in our minds.

From this I have taken that as we view our lives as these dull depressing things without adventures it is only looking in the view of the whole, or looking back at our past that we can see that we have actually had adventures, though small and insignificant compared to what adventure novels tell us our adventures should be.

Probably not what Sartre was going for, but I’m attempting to maintain my positive outlook. Especially with this whole moving to Missoula looming closer and closer. Of course mum has to bring up how it is cold there and that I will probably be needing more clothing… et cetera, as the over protective mother who can’t seem to understand that I can dress myself, nor the fact that I work in a store that sells clothing.

I don’t want to go back to the cold of Montana… I’ve been side tracking my mind of that thought by looking up French cities that I will be able to transfer to. Nantes is looking like a pleasant option. The wikipedia article makes it sound somewhat like the climate is not too different from Seattle. Plus they have pomme eau, which I have leaned is traditionally served in something that resembles an English tea cup.

Distract the mind.

Comments

New Birth.

Hey. C'est moi. It has been a few years. Since I last discussed into the void here I attended grad school for architecture at the University of Washington, finished the Master's program by the skin of my teeth, graduated into a global pandemic (I would not recommend this), gave away most of my worldly possessions, and am now flâneur-ing around Europe on the slim budget of my life savings. Allow me to reintroduce myself : I am the artist, Gaston. My interests include ; architecture, sustainability, art, vintage fashions, antiques, and flâneries. All while consuming massive quantities of tea. “I know where I'm from, but I don't know where I'm going.” I recently heard this line at a video playing at the Tate Museum in Liverpool, and it rang strong in me. In the film Casablanca, when Rick is questioned on his nationality he responds that his is a “drunkard,” insinuating that he has renounced his American nationality for that of someone who owns and runs a bar. From ...

French underworld tattoos at the turn of the century. The man sports a tattooed mustache intended to foil the prohibition of facial hair in the Foreign Legion. The World of Tattoo by Maarten Hesselt van Dinter. I can only dream of being anywhere near that combination of badass and crazy. Though at that point the Foreign Legion was probably still the best place for criminals to get their record cleaned so perhaps he is as well quite legitimately scary upon all of that. I find myself flipping back to this page time and time again to romanticize the French underground from around 1900. Give him an accordion, a beret, and some braces. Prostitutes who could easily kill you if you ever come up short and tattoo the names of their ‘actual’ lovers between their breasts, close to their heart. Tattoo ‘Je mother fucking t’aime’ in a tattoo cursive along my collar bones.

The Toulousian Painting.

I sneak in a mirror reflected reference photo. While we were in Toulouse we ducked into a nice little salon de thé that to me felt like something out of a 1940s representation of Europeans in Africa. Probably just the French dealing with the heat of the south. While at this place I noticed a girl sitting alone at one of the tables reading on her phone. Perhaps surfing the internet, perhaps reading a book, I couldn't quite tell as it was in Asian characters. I would guess that it was either Chinese or Japanese. In such a beautifully intriguing place I found it to be somewhat odd that she would pass the time ignoring her surrounding to immerse herself in her phone. I remember they also had nice restrooms. The girl then left and we stayed a bit longer sipping on our drinks, which if I remember right were not actually tea but something cool to counter the heat of Toulouse. Taking a breather in the hectic nature of our vacation. It was one of those towns where I ...

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