Skip to main content

Saturday picnic.

 As I wandered the Saturday market I thought up the idea of getting different things in which I could make a picnic for one. I got my usual large madelines with the little bump on the bottom. Some cheese covered in herbs. It acts like a spreadable chèvre, but the lady reassured the ladies in line in front of me that it was actually cheese from cows milk. Then some avocados. Baked crisps with sea salt and seaweed. The quintessential bagette. And a small bottle of white wine.
Everything for a perfect little picnic.

 Except it was a picnic in which everything went wrong. One of the avocados had started to turn and had exploded. And the wine cork had been soaking for too long and just deteriorated every time I tried to get it out. The wrapping for the top of the bottle sliced the side of my middle finger. A cut that looked like a bloody version of the 'crack on Amy's wall.' In the end I was forced to push the cork down into the bottle and drink the wine through my teeth to filter out pieces of cork. It wasn't any good and I left it in a park garbage can half drunk.

I wandered more around the area. I had heard of a park on Rue de Paris that allowed people to walk on the grass and had no restricted zones, so I decided to check it out. A beautiful pond. Filled with ducks and one very large swan.
I continued to wander. Down streets that I had been near but never traveled down. Looking at familiar sites from new and different angles.
In short, continuing to be unproductive because it was too nice out to sit in front of a computer screen.

Labels:

Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

Windy Coffee. [part 1]

Fulya was looking at my sketchbook the other day and remarked that she liked the random sketch that I had made of some girl that I saw walking along with a little plastic cup of coffee during the wind storm a few weeks past. As I still have some small pieces of very good watercolor paper [that I had sized to be used for some small frames I had collected but did not have anything to put in them yet], I thought that perhaps I could transfer a little sketch to a little piece of paper to play with techniques. Namely the layering of water colors. Something that I know I have been working on a lot, but practice makes perfect. I also wanted to see how using my new mechanical pencil filled with blue graphite would work in hiding my lines as I initially worked. I forgot to take a picture of the transition between not having the girl inked at all to inking her and starting the background. I was having a hell of a time trying to figure out a setting in which to put her. At first I was th
Post a Comment
Read more
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.
Post a Comment
Read more

The adventure continues.

So, I haven't written much lately.. but from the doldrums of the end of semester I then entered a time period of a flânerie across France. A last hurrah. Jessye came to visit again and the tiny room was packed up all into a few suitcases, the largest being named Bertha, and Rennes was left behind, although not before having a picnic in Thabor for the last Saturday market... We got the essentials. Madeleines (where as I reached the front of the line the vendor greeted me with a question of, '6 madelines?') with a few more of that vendor's delicious delights, like those bite size rolls with jams and caramel and chocolate.. Then of course the impossible cow cheese that acted like goat cheese and was rolled in Provencal  herbs. And of course a baguette from the amazing bakery covered in tiles. A trip to Thabor with Jessye was never complete without a stop at the aviary. And some people watching. A mohawked punk rocker walks a little girl hand in hand through the park.
Post a Comment
Read more