I really felt like it connected me to people to go to Paris. People on social media were a little jealous but mostly it felt like everyone was rooting for me and living vicariously through me. I’ve made some nice facebook posts sharing my experiences. WHAT I DID I LEARN? – I learned it’s powerful to “go big” with paintings + blow them up to cinematic levels – I got to see Rothko’s kinda sucky earlier paintings and see him slowly develop into his confident style. – I saw how much he became his own obstacle and how conflicted he was about success. He was going to paint for the Four Seasons restaurant an he said he wanted the paintings to make the diners vomit. Very Cobain-esque. – I learned that the french are much better at facilitiating fun little snacks + enjoyable small meals. I also learned that “entree” means “appetizer”, not “main dish”. The word for “main dish” is “plat”. – Most french places have MOSTLY French wines an they organize them by region usually with maybe a small section for another country. – I felt some confidence that I could probably learn French if I had to.

It was so good and humbling to be reminded of yoga and how effective it can be for the ache and tension in my upper back. The yoga class works in around the edges instead of just trying to immediately stretch the tight part and that forced patience is so helpful. Last night I had dinner with the couple I met at the Rothkos: Isabel and Laurent. They fed me a very simple, rustic meal of steamed fish + potatoes in a tomato sauce, and a delicious tapenade laurent made from green olives, capers, and some other stuff. We talked from 7:30 pm to 1am when I finally had to break away to sleep. BUT I’d had coffee there and was up until 4 so I was VERY tired for Yoga. Very sleepy for my last day. The day is still good and I’ll get these last postcars written and sent. Then perhaps tonight my final mission: coq au vin! Note from the future: I didn’t write about this but I want to while I still remember it: I had a fun midday that day after yoga. I went and got a fancy breakfast of baguette and chopped lox and then went to a little wine store to get wine for Laurent and Isabel. There was this tiny cute gay guy running the wine shop and he chatted me up and was holding court with customers in the most adorable way. He had such vivid brown eyes and I really enjoyed flirting with him while he DJ’d and played a bunch of fun french songs I wouldn’t have otherwise heard. It was a fun little party and he really was flirting with me heavily. If I’d stuck around we’d probably have made out lol but I chickened out and also I mean I specifically didn’t negotiate that w Jamie. It was a super fun experience though. Then I was so tired I went and bought flowers and passed out for a few hours in my little boat cabin to rest up for dinner.

…eating and drinking anything I want, recklessly. Wines, champagnes, oysters, scallops, chocolates, espressos. If I were coming in my 20’s I’d have my nose pressed up against the glass this whole time wishing I could afford things so I guess there’s a benefit to coming at 48. Young enough to stay in a boat but old enough to afford 50 espressos. Note from the future: hilariously I made myself sick doing this. I probably shouldn’t have had raw scallop and lukewarm oyster at a fresh fish store. It was delicious but then I got the poops so badly I had to miss my dinner reservation for coq au vin and had to go to a much crappier restaurant on my last night to get a much inferior version but it was still a good last night experience. I walked the streets of paris a little and took photos and it was so very poignant.

… that were wasted because I couldn’t make it. I had plenty of time to go to the later 9pm show which was some sort of dance interpreting the Rothkos. Note from the future: I ended up staying like 8 hours at the rothkos and going to that night’s interpretive dances for free. They were good but not great solo dances but were elevated by the crowd of people sitting on the floor with rapt attention, the good sound engineering, and the elevated feeling of the Rothkos all around us. One dancer I actually recorded on my phone and I think her way of interpreting the rothkos was just not to do a tremendous amount of movement. Also, I talk about it in a later entry but I sat down to drink a beer at the beginning of the reception and connected with this super sweet older couple of a french man and portuguese woman. They invited me to dinner and I in general felt so happy and grateful to connect with people. I’ve felt so rejected by the people in New York and such a weird feeling that I’d completely lost my mojo, so having them feel attracted enough to me to want to invite me over to their house felt so sweet and validating in a way I needed SO badly.

…but sitting on the floor doing it definitely quickly took a toll on my back. Saw the hilton hotel prices where I had my snack were 350-2000 euros an was so glad for my 90 euro little boat room. That leaves me so much more money for provence rose. My poor phone uner heavy use was in critical shape. 34%, the horror! I depend on this little guy as my lifeline! But,m they have little rental chargers at the museum that breathed life into me. It’s amazing how much that helped my relaxation level. I wish I could get ChatGPT / DALL-E to generate fake Rothko images… that would be so baller. I get why they don’t let people do it of course. He was born in 1903. I thought the cutoff year was later (I asked chat gpt… the artist’s “latest work” has to be before 1913.). I tried using chatGPT to describe his work and then use that description but it didn’t even remotely work. I know I’ve described Escher’s work too accurately and had it refuse to make images just on that bases! I’m sure I would get bored quickly but I just wanted to make fake Rothkos for my phone wallpaper goddamnit! It’s so nice to just do this at my own pace. Jamie is such a sweet “pleaser” of a person but for that reason it can be hard for her to understand I need to feel out my own bliss sometimes. It’s such a silly problem to have, but forcing me to decide what I want can really spoil it for me. Sometimes. being able to walk until I’m ready to dro an go where I please is so deeply relaxing. To pick a restaurant based on looks or deeply research. I can be much more solitary than I imagined. The grass over there….how green!

Of course I’m going at the busiest Rothko time! I’m having a pre-museum snack and IPA. It’s pink shrimp (the french always specify because grey shrimp are a totally different, smaller thing) on a bed of grilled avocado and frisee and super finely chopped-up egg. Delicious. So much more flavorful than anything you’d get in the states. The shrimp is not rubbery and has a flavor! In a hotel bar! The average level of quality of food is outstanding. The bar lady spoke decent English and made a point, like many people, to have a little hospitality conversation with me, and I engaged enthusiastically since these kinds of interactions can’t happen easily. She sold me on a nice cognac which reminded me that I just do not like cognac or similar whiskies all that much. I enjoyed drinking it on her recommendation though. She gave her VERY young bar back a sniff as if she were going to be impressed or something, but she most definitely was not. The snack fortified me for Rothkos and I felt good.

The flight was late, long, and loud! I got to the Paris airport already wrecked. Passport lines! Taxi lines! I forgot about French power adapters and had to go to an extramaly fancy mall (La Defense) to fin the french version of Best Buy. When I got back to the room I was utterly destroyed. No Rothkos. No post-rothko dance party. It’s all I could do to make it out for a little dinner (pho) an a Pariesian IPA! Oh la la.

I didn’t quite realize how far it goes on past the tip of Maine. All the way out to the tip of newfoundland. Now I’m finally only one timezone away from Paris. I am wrung out tired and my back is so sore from contorting to read for five hours. But hey, I’ll probably see the Rothkos before I sleep!

…but it is pretty awe inspiring even though its base is under renovation and so it has a very “under construction” feel with shipping containers and things lying around. I woul have paid 30 euros to go up in it but it’s seriously a wack-ass line and I just couldn’t take it. Plus it’s T-1 hours until I see the Rothkos. I feel walking around all day as a 48 year old but it’s still doable and I’m very happy I can do whatever I want. It almost feels selfish to write in a notebook because I have postcars to write and facebook posts to make, stupid tweets about parisiens about how they really do carry around single baguettes, etc. French people seem sweet, haughty, elegant, not-vain, tender hearted, and filled with savoir faire. Paris is much like modern U.S. cities I’ve been to but of course has many beautiful quirks. I would absolutely live here. The little fruit stands everywhere are so beautiful and I love that that’s their version of New York’s ugly bodegas. Everywhere has tiny little outside tables and the Parisian urge to linger is truly amirable. Parisian women do not—on average—tend to wear a lot of makeup, which I found refreshing. I’m glad I came here for a reason and not ust to abstractly gawk, lol. It adds a focal point. Just idly “touristing” would feel pretty stupid and empty. It feels good to have a reason to be here.

I tried to make a little sketch but it’s like nothing you see in the United States. There were miles of farmland, and then hemmed in in a little block would be a whole village of dozens of houses and little shops but no sprawl whatsoever. They were dense little villages that would just completely stop at the edge of the farmland bordering them.