All abt (OUI), like Paris…
14 JulI finally got around to filling out my Parisian evaluations. Here are some excerpts:
Being outside of the United States has definitely allowed me to grow tremendously. I found myself in the scenario of the person who only truly findshave perspective on their situation once they remove themselves from the situation entirely. As an American, coming from arguably the most dominant country in the world, with the American view on globality beating down upon me daily, it is very difficult to transcend the American viewpoint and the American information bubble. By leaving the country for long enough to call another place my home, I was able to embody another culture, and a very politically concious culture at that. This was wonderful because it allowed me to take a step back from the American canvas and then look at it from an outsider point of view, giving me truer clarity in my views on America and an objective viewpoint from which to criticize not only my country but also my own daily doings. The perspective comes in two ways. For one, you can see overall how another country differs from yours and how others see your country and its political stance. Secondarily, you see how everyday life, la vie quotidienne, compares from once country to another, the overlaps, the differences, everything. I feel as if being abroad allowed me to truly see how far the consumerism that runs the American machine goes. It allowed me to bounce my ideas about culture off of people outside the country. This experience allowed me to see the most obvious shortcomings that I would have overlooked, such as the fact that Americans truly do not read, things would add directly to how we are able to succumb to the Big Business monster. Just the simple difference on public transportation. In France, the majority of ppl have books or newspapers they were reading. This, in and of itself, creates and entirely different zeitgeist then the one we have in America, where we are spoon-feed information through the popular media. Combine this with the fact that every French person has some political agenda and you have a people that stand much more aware of themselves and the world then us. Every new french person I met had a question for me about American politics. American politics. They knew enough about our politics to ask me informed questions, to some of which i sadly was either ignorant or had no answer. This is incredible and sad, the former for them and the latter for us.
The social hierarchy is completely different. The views towards migrant culture, ethnic interaction and economical difference and nearly incomparable. (this section will take a while… file it on rememberTHEmilk for another day)
Life Retroed: Flamingo or is it Flamenco
16 AprBack back back, a couple of three seven weeks ago, when i went to Province, we had a very nice traditional Camargaise dinner of bull stew and traditional rice. I had some weird potato casserole. Apparently the french are new to this vegetarian thing so when i put that on my app for the trip they thought that meant i didnt eat cheese in the first course but that i did only in the second course. Pretty silly if u ask me. Sometimes its vegan, sometimes its veggie, sometimes its a lil meat sauce. They are all confused. Silly carnivores. Anyway, i found myself, hungry, staring at a bottle of wine NYU paid for and listening to a Flamenco band. This posed a linguistic problem for me because, being for the same sect as MRint. i didnt know wat language to speak to the Band members in. French? makes sense since we were in france. Spanish? Since we were listening to Spanish music, singing in spanish, that makes senses too. Or english, cause they knew i was american so they spoke to me in semi comprehensible english. Either way, wine, counselors a lil bit on, and spanish music make for a memorable night in the south of France.
N see, we saw some flamingos too… ha
(btw: mia got gigs)
Still Young at Heart.
12 AprIn the infinite follies that comprise the life of tha giant, there are many awkward or hilarious or unusual situations, depending on how you want to look at it, last night being another one of those. I found myself chez MRinternational, at his host moms house, at seventy year-old widow, who, from time to time, hosts soirees for a rich older singles club she belongs to. I figured i could help out on a couple levels, one being helping Madame with her cocktails, champagne and hors d’oeuvres, and two, helping Tim not fight the potentially awkward situation on his own. The soirée was ala House Party, dj, disco lights and a bar. Well, expect that the drinks were top of the line champagne n not 40z of Steel Reserve. U could feel the young vibe as the CongaTrain went through the house. As the night played continued it ended up being pretty fun. Good champagne=good times. I think it was Descartes who discovered that equation. Or maybe Pythagoras. Either way, it was good to see the oldies being goodies n continuing to have fun. And apparently you can swing dance to Timbo beats too… who knew.
What can i say, them old frenchies know their swing
Where’s Waldo (Hint: hes in the ugliest {vest} i have ever seen)
Yea, thats a bathtub full of champagne. And it didnt even last through the night.
Unforgivable.
All photos courtesy of Timothy Kau. For more looks at the party visit the Online Album
Movin Cool, SpeakinEasy.
10 AprIn my experience, the french, or at least Parisians, have a very exclusive and private culture, A culture that they are rather unwilling to share with the outside world. This is not to say that u cannot feel paris when u come to france, not at all. There are things abt paris that are also very accessible. But paris is a city with a dual nature. There is the paris that is much like new york, that is accessible, that it offers to anyone that wants to participate. But, below the surface, there lies another paris, the paris behind the snickers and the stares, the paris where the Parisian himself lives, and not the person living in paris. The paris of that knows abt roissy and remembers beaubourg. This duality makes me think that, you could live here for months, maybe even years, and never really meet a parisian, especially when u have a penis. U can go all this time, without finding yourself in a truly parisian social enviroment. And thats just how paris likes it, paris will not let u in without ur invite, if ur not on “LA LISTE” or with a parisian that will vouch for u, your “foutu”. But, once u can get it, its a real special thing.
With all this being said, I have a good bruh, Yim, Mr. International, that has snaked his way in. This left us, the day after his bday party, still tipsy from last night, heading out into the world once again, off to meet some parisian bruhs at dude Nico’s house. As i later learned, in class, when a parisian invites you to his house, its serious. So, we found ourselves deep into the circle. All fun n good times, we followed this etudiants de film around paris. We were walking up this street for wat seemed like forever when we rolled up to wat seemed to be a restaurant under renovation. No chairs, no tables, freshly painted walls. An empty room. With the lights on and the door open though. I, being the leo that i am, found myself up in the front, so i proceeded in, through the room, into the back and then down the stairs. As i descended, I heard a lil bass, and then turned a corner and found myself in a speakeasy. Crazy. Bar clandestine, Illegal. whatever they called it, it was nutz. Cans of beer, corner store prices, and old french men, a sweet dance to the sound of a man on an ipod. I found myself filled with excitement because i was really in a “two days in paris” party. A real french social place. If u work ur way in, its worth it. a whole lotta fun. and ill leave it at that… HA
Old french bruhs, in there… n the corner store clerks/bartenders in the back.. n the bar (they even have fresh simosas)
David… the true fam… much amour por this guy
JEJE… future internationally known director…
MRinternational
PS: this was also my first time with a real camera… im tryin to get my bars up… let me kno how it went…
INsecurity…without bounds
7 AprInsecurity amazes me. It is truly without bounds. But, simultaneously, while it incessantly blows my mind, it also is completely understandable to me, because i have experienced it before, just as everyone else. it is the basis of civilization and society itself. A person, way back when, said, well if u watch my back while i watch urs, then i will b safer then on my own. And poof. society occurs.
Possibly the most baffling thing about insecurity, is the way in which it governs ones actions, subconsciously, so deep down in the depths of the psyche, that people will go ahead and do things, attributing them to conscious thought or instinct. No. that is insecurity staring u right in the face. THAT is was makes you fuck over ur best friend, that is wat makes u hurt those u love, because, at its core, survival of the fittest says that if anyone if more fit then u, then they are a threat. Insecurity without conscious is a terrible thing. It will end all the relationships around u. Just as negativity begets more negativity, insecurity simply expresses itself through negativity. so really, if ppl dont wake up, then they will sleep themselves away from possibly the best ppl that are around them, just by subconsciously worrying abt themselves.
Based(on a TRUEstory): Mason
2 AprIn the infinite time i spend chopping it up with the weebles, be it online, in person, on the phone, through skype, ichat, watever, i learn alot abt that non-animal animal that we refer to as human. I was talking to a friend i met from the states, Mason Sills, and we were talkin abt love and lust, always a great topic of conversation. The result of our conversation was not a conclusion, if u couldnt see that one coming, but a story, not abt me, or involving me at all, but a great story nonetheless. I had never really considered writing fiction, but little short stories might be fun. I dunno, this story left me inspired. creativity and art for its own sake. agency over creativity. reminds me of this TED.com vid i watched on my boys blog C+. Well, with no further anticipation: SLOW MOTION
I guess I didn’t mean it, but man you shoulda seen it. We drove through the star polluted night going ninety-five down ninety-five, well, he did. I sat. Motionless. Clenching the Sky in my sweaty palms as the car beat in rhythm with my heart. Music blasted while I polluted my veins anticipating them to be filled further. We arrived and parked nowhere as the liquor blacked out my life. He jumped, an unwanted Spiderman hero here to breakdown my hardened womb. Enter. Trapped in neon light halls, white walls surround us. He’s lost, and I follow. A recipe for disaster as he sings “but girl, if you would let me, Ill take your pants off”. I let him, maybe? I told myself I wouldn’t loose this time. Images float in when it’s over, when it’s done. He leaves my side and I lie there alone in quiet space, more alone than when I am flying solo. Regret stained all over the bed as I poke his tender skin. “Come cuddle,” I say. “Hold on” his deep voice coarsely replies, yet, he never comes. I guess we have something in common that night. Heart hollow, I lay my spinning head against foreign sheets, not flesh. Sunken hope surrounds me. Maybe we’re both young urban psychopaths.
At nine a.m., the sun rises the most beautiful ruby red. His smile wakens my tired eyes, permeating butterflies into my dehydrated system. And I too, smile back. He holds me with forearms that are softer than any felt before. Yet, his muscles look all too familiar. Gentle and dangerous? They always go hand in hand. Sweat sickles down my un-toned body as we begin to make lust. Lips lock and he tastes sweet despite our un-brushed teeth and day old bodies. I want him. His gaze radiates wetness between my legs, I hardly remember him drinking me last night. Delicious. What other word is there for breathtaking first encounters? Sigh, oh my. We bury our souls inside one another, orgasms for breakfast. Luscious, our flesh explodes. Later bathing in the afterglow his touch is missed already, even though his masculine palms clenched my baby bearing hips three seconds prior. Will it fade? Too scared I am, for he seems imperfectly perfect.
We go back the way we came, ninety-five, driving slow, not wanting to leave the irreplaceable sweet scent of passion mixed with incense and Nantucket nectars to quench thirst and panting. Five days young together. What is he to me? What will he be? I can’t tell, I can never tell. Slow motion. See me let go (aaahh). Oh yeah…
- Mason Eve Sills
¡Its ProVENCE not ProVINCE!
2 AprAs i said before, I am a little bit behind right now. I think three weeks ago by now, i headed down to the south of france to Provence, more specifically to Nimes and Saintes Maries de la Mer in the Camargue region of France. If weird southern accents (yea they have the same funny stigma in france) or sunny days wasnt enough to draw you down to these quaint towns then the bulls and horses will. Apparently, Camargue is famous for their unique bulls, rodeo and their horses that turn white with age. So much so that Sarkozy (current and controversial new French President) came down during his campaign to the very ranch (Mas lou Rayas) that we visited. This entry can only cover the beginning of the trip, since it was bursting with fun times and cultural factoids. To start, we took the TGV or the Trein Grand Vitesse, which travels at abt 175 MPH to my knowledge. Either way its real fast. Made me a little dizzy. We got down there on a beautiful day, the type that is nearly impossible to come by in grey and gloomy and rainy and cold PAREE. That first day, we hit this crazy roman aqueduct called Pont du Gard. Its real nice, and they put it together without using mortar or concert. Some pretty crazy stuff in the words of the smart shop owner in Holland. Then we hit the Arenes, a roman coliseum that is supposed to be just a well preserved as its bigger counterpart in ROME (though, admittedly, i have never been to rome so i cannot compare). Learned of Romans and Gladiators in anticipation of a bull dinner and flamenco dancing… and anticipation that you will now participate in with a {TO BE CONTINUED}
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The Du0 back at it again, southern fried, taking it around the outside (get ur MACdre Game up)
Failed attempt at kicking the stationary metal bull. sad, very sad, but amusing all the same.
…. And success, though i cannot say thats how the Matadors would handle the situation.
Stigmas: Who are {we}
1 AprIm going to get a little out of order but i figured id just say this shit while it was on my mind. this past weekend, i was in the Netherlands. Now, i will get to what a great and interesting place it was, but first i would like to share a realization that i had. the struggling college student stigma. its there, everyone knows it, and, until a few days ago, i didnt realize why its so frustrating to be a part of. The reason this stigma is so frustrating is because of the sort purgatory that the college student finds himself in. My maturity beyond that of an adolescent or a late teen, i have a taste for the fruits of an adult life. Wine, good Food, nice drinks bought out at bars, nice clothes, maybe even suits and ties and things that you cannot even buy new w.o dropping a fair amount of bread. These things are all things that i should want. I can no long b satisfied with eating McDonalds, drinking out of a bottle of cheap ass bacardi gold on some steps or in a playground. I would like to be able to go out and buy drinks and not worry about it. I would like to be able to go to a decent restaurant and order a glass of milk if i want to and not worry abt the money that would put me over my budget. The struggle causes a constant calculation of expenses. did i spend this, how much did i spend today. It makes me sick. The problem for me is that money, in and of itself, is not important to me. In my mind, it comes, it goes, but there is really no point in holding on to it because even if u do, it might leave you, some how some way. So, we are caught btw our adult desires and what you might ask. But of course, the adolescent budget that we have in our pockets. the budget that causes this calculation to occur. We dont have good jobs by design, because we are in school. this is the sentiment, i feel, that makes people want to leave school. not because school is so bad, but because there are all these things that are outside of a students budget that the student wants and thinks that they can get once they leave and expand that budget.
With all this being said, i feel as if this struggle, as well as all struggle, is probably good for me. I will have the “middle class mentality”, the “immigrant mentality” as Obama put it in his speech on race. I will think that no one gave me a thing and what i have is of my own creation. With that comes a true appreciation for the wine you drink or the food you eat, which is key. At the same time, one must b aware of those who helped along the way. but not taking what you have for granted is important. As i sit here, and tell of the mental juxtaposition between my budget and my desires, i still kno that im in a great position, so privileged, especially coming from my background. I live everyday on another mans dollar (or euro) all because there is some sort of potential that people see in me, and think is worth investing in. I guess im left with the responsibility to succeed because of the sacrifice of others on my behalf, and because of those, younger than me, that look to me for guidance.
But, with all this being said, i still wish my budget and my wants coincided a bit better.
…. and u still look ballin when u have ur rent money in front of u…. im way past green, im on that orange and blue HA
Its too late….
1 AprId like to apologize. I been on a super hiatus, which is pretty unacceptable in my mind because really the only thing i have to do with this blog is keep writing and posting. Needless to say, i spend time looking at many various blogs and i understand the frustration that occurs when you want something to look at online and there is nothing new where you like to look. In creating this platform upon which i can propagate my thoughts and my creativity, i hope to create something that yields return customers, just like a business. This idea is lost from many businesses that i attend, which leaves me at a loss in return because y not base ur business off of return customers and sell a good product that people will want more than once. If you find something here that you want more than once, i hope you come back, but if i do not post then i am not doin my half of the deal. I could go on about trips and broken macbooks and the like, but they would just be San Francisco bay fog covering a beautiful city. This would skip over my culpability. With that im done. I hope it wont happen again, but ive learned never to say never…. but, until never comes…. keep reading…
-tha Giant
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