Skip to main content


Well, it is Halloween.

I went to a party at Spruce St. on Friday and ended up winning a costume contest that I didn’t realize they were having. The prize was a bag of chips from the kitchen. I left it there because I didn’t really need any more chips.

With a mustache like the one I have going on I was short on ideas for costumes. Of course there is always the Dali fall back, which seemed rather esoteric to many and my wide-eyed stare did nothing to try and explain the outfit. I was really surprised that the contacts that I hadn’t worn since my visit to Billings this past summer were still any good. They at least lasted the night until I caught the last drunk bus of the night back to my housing complex. And the other amazing thing was that as the paper flowers from my mustache fell multiple times in the mosh pit (dancing area? The influence of the hippie culture in Missoula is quite apparent when looking at the dancing at music shows) but I still somehow time and time again was able to find them and put them in my shirt pocket until I stopped dancing, where I would put them back on.

I think I need a change of pace and scenery. At least this is keeping me focused on my coursework. Even if my desire to go out into town seems to have diminished quite rapidly. Meh. I am really hoping to make it back to Seattle for Thanksgiving which will hopefully help me feel more attached to reality and less stuck in my own head as I blend into the wallpaperless walls around here. It might help here if I could find someone to be a romantic interest, but so far I have yet to find anyone with which I can relate to on multiple levels, or someone who isn’t already taken or in some kind of ‘interesting’ situation that I would really just rather not bother with.

I am almost done with my application to study abroad. All that is left is to touch up the essays (translation included) and start picking out the courses that are listed at the moment, but will surely change once the time to go over to France actually draws nearer.

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

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 ...