Paris 2019

Paris1

We’re in Paris.  The clouds threaten rain and the unions a General Strike: c’est le vie!  I love Paris.  It sings.  It dances.  It laughs.  And it has an unconscious cool that I always hope is contagious.  Plus, it’s Fashion Week – the World Cup of Who’s Wearing What.  No, we’re not going to be sitting in the cheap seats, looking for celebs; we have other things to do.  Things like the cemetery at Montparnasse to lay a pen on Baudelaire’s grave (we promised) the Luxemburg Gardens for the puppet show, and a glass of wine and a few tears across the river from Notre Dame.  But mostly, we’re just going to hang out – try and catch the rhythm of a Parisian lunch, stroll the boulevards and maybe have one too many glasses of wine in some café somewhere.

But I said all this to say this space may suffer.  Between the time change, the Wi-Fi, the food, the wine and the unavoidable fact that I’m no travel writer, the next few weeks at WDFYFE.NET are going to be hit-and- miss, so please have patience.  Anyway, I’ll try my best to … Just a sec! … “Bonjour, deux verres de vin rouge, s’il vous plait.” … See what I mean?  In Paris, life intervenes.  C’est le vie!

Seasons

seasons

Congratulations, folks! We’ve made it through the summer, and it’s autumn again.  Where does the time go?  Over the years, I’ve given summer a pretty bad rap, and even though it clearly deserved it, I should apologize.  Sorry, summer — you hot, sweaty mess!  Actually, I shouldn’t be so hard on summer.  It’s just one of the seasons and, as they say, “To every season/there is a reason.”  Vivaldi knew this and wrote some cool music to demonstrate it.  So, even though I’m no Vivaldi, here’s my take on the four seasons.

Winter is for the mind.

Winter is thick books and old libraries; dusty, hard-to-find bookstores cluttered with forgotten, twice-told stories.  It’s big socks, ankle-bunched and comfortable.  It’s long, dark hours and hot tea, quilted with spice.  It’s pages of adventure that sip like cups of soup, hand-warm and held close to your face.  It’s cozy against the lonely cold scratching at the windows and crowded with imagination.

Spring is for the spirit.

Spring is splashy rain and wide, warm mornings; flocks of shepherdless clouds, grazing the sky.  It’s busy-bird busy, darting on the breeze, beaks full of new-nest enthusiasm.  It’s turned dirt, moist with tender green promises … that there will be flowers.  It’s trees awake with tiny, inexperienced fingers, first fluttered in the singing afternoon.  It’s bare arms and short skirts and sly, secret smiles that catch your eye like jewelry.

Summer is for the body.

Summer is painted bright toenails and young girls, lithe as deer, dancing in the sand.  It’s sun-hot games, smooth with muscles.  It’s music, laugh -loud and twisting.  It’s fresh-cut grass and scented gardens and spray cool water.  It’s tickle and giggle and chasing with excitement.  It’s coloured drinks that drip, and honey-coated skies and jokes and teases and everyone talking at once.

Autumn is for the soul.

Autumn is scarves and gloves and hair, finger-combed and tangled.  It’s crisp crumbled leaves cremated on the wind and scattered.  It’s walking in the low, grey afternoon, coat buttoned and no place to go.  It’s a park bench, forgotten in the bony trees that whisper the words of a poem you can’t quite remember.  It’s a love song that no longer makes you cry.  It’s old friends and long ago’s and all the things we forfeit to time.  It’s a pause at the window while the world walks by.

Under Hate/Over Love!

over love

According to psychologists, psychiatrists and the Internet, the thing most people fear is – wait for it! – speaking in front of a group.  Yep, public speaking!  That terrible moment when you have to give the toast to the bride or rally the troops for the church bake sale.  Don’t get me wrong: I understand pathological fear (been there/done that) but I think we’re aiming a little low here.  Personally, when I think of fear, my mind kinda runs to homicidal maniacs with sharp objects or those dead-eyed, bearded guys with bulky vests.  Quite frankly, speaking to the assembled PTA doesn’t come up.

The problem is we live in the most benevolent society in history, and we really don’t know how to handle it.  Strong emotions are reserved for strong situations, and our world has, for the most part, done away with those.  In short, our emotions have no place to go.  So they hang around, cluttering up our lives and making things difficult.

For example, I’ve heard people say, “I hate Kanye West.”  Okay, fair enough!  However, in a world that has Kim Jung-un and Vlad Putin in it, hating Kanye West strikes me as a little undercooked.  If you’re going to hate somebody (which isn’t actually allowed, these days) you might want to do a little research.  Kanye West is a pompous ass who has bad taste in women; those other two guys can blow up the world.  Random hate diminishes the brand.

And talking about diminishing the brand, the things we do to love oughta be illegal.  People love to cook.  They love to ski.  They love hiking and painting and going to the mall.  Hell, they even love cyberjunk like Instagram.  Yet, when it comes to that one magical moment with that one magical person, we run and hide behind “the relationship” as if even thinking “love affair” would unleash an emotional bogeyman.  Go figure!

The thing is we’ve spent the better part of a generation trying to concoct a society without sharp edges – a place that doesn’t cry.  However, in our zeal to make a better world, we’ve inadvertently smoothed out all the other stuff, too.  Unfortunately, people aren’t made that way.  We don’t even like it.  We need and want to ache with love, burn with hate and shiver in fear.  It’s the way we’re made.  (That’s why people go to horror movies and rom/coms.)  Our primal emotions are an essential part of life’s equation, and when you take them away, people start looking around for replacement parts.  That’s why the 21st century is flooded with depression instead of sadness, anxiety instead of excitement and outrage instead of disappointment.  People need to feel, and they’re willing to tie themselves in imaginary knots to do it.

So go ahead and fear public speaking, hate mediocre musicians and love video games.  Just remember: it’s a big world out there, and there’s tons more and better stuff around to get worked up about.