March 19, 2008
Paris, I Love You But You’re Bringing Me Down
So there is this guy, Rosecrans Baldwin–yep, you read it right, the dude’s name is Rosecrans–who is currently an American living in Paris. Naturally, he is a sardonic, self-deprecating writer with a well-tuned clever muscle (sounds dirty, doesn’t it). It’s very pomo. He also happens to be funny as hell:
No one hears you when you say you’re sick of Paris. Sick of Paris: three words that make sense to people separately, but not in sequence. And they’re right—what am I talking about? What about champagne for sale in gas stations? And aisles dedicated to yogurt in grocery stores? And grocery stores that only sell frozen food of such high quality that, when reheated, it beats most bistro meals? And my boss and his thousand Lacoste shirts in every color? And all the gossip and insights: how French men go to pieces when they’re dumped; how Parisian girls won’t sleep with you unless you have permanent residency papers. And the white morning sunshine in Place de la Concorde, and its slow wheel of drivers, and me on my bike. And homeless men spreading out a picnic on a Metro platform. And Techtonik kids.
via kottke
comments
Leave a Reply
if he weren’t so funny I’d pat him on the head and say ‘poor baby’.
[...] via clusterflock [...]