always backlogged.

4 Novembre
Lundi

I’m Nick Refuerzo and I approved this message.

It kind of saddens me that nobody here cares to elaborate or really talk about the American election, and rightly so. They just shrug it off as a political circus, which it is. But I like circuses. They’re fun. It’s the only thing I really like about America right now…it’s a fucking intense time and I was obsessed with it before I came to Paris. I loved discussing it with anyone that had an opinion, and now here people either shrug it off or just support Obama by default. I would enjoy bringing up precedents, facts, lies, anything during these discussions in America. But now…nothing. It’s just a foreign affair, like how everything else in the world was while in America. I find people here have a more general knowledge of the ENTIRE world instead of stupidly in depth knowledge of the past 6 months of one country’s history. I started late, I guess.

The first thing I did when I got the internet illegally was watch youtube videos of campaign ads and read shit about the election. I briefly went on normal vice sites like facebook and myspace, but after a month without it I really stopped caring. They’re nice to check every now and then and say hello whats up look at this silly picture of me in front of the Eiffel Tower. But I’d rather watch the laughably ridiculous half hour infomercial Obama released that’s so soppingly sentimental it’s hilarious. Pathos pathos pathos. I’ll vehemently support Obama, but this is just hilarious. McCain ads are even worse.

I just love being immersed in this shit because it really tells so much about a candidate, about their staff, and about the people that watch them. What they believe in, what they think people believe in. It’s a very good teacher for manipulating the audience and buying into the Oprah-esque videos they need. To me it’s like a more expensive, more produced reality show, except instead of 7 beautiful 20 year olds it’s all of America. It’s addicting, and it’s such a better talk piece then the Real World sex cams or Survivor’s naked men eating monkey brains.

Everywhere I go I hear people concerned about Obama being assassinated, or if McCain wins, him dying from skin cancer. These are incredibly valid concerns, but I don’t think it should supercede the actual discussion of what either candidate would do if in office. I also don’t think people should automatically resort to apathy or pessimism that either candidate is bad, we’re settling for lesser evils, etc. etc. That may be true, but each candidate holds different values that I’m positive they will fight for. Congress will push them both to a more middle ground, bien sur, but I do believe inside these puppets lies tres different beliefs. I’m disappointed that both of them have been pushed away from their original beliefs (McCain more than Obama) but that’s just part of the circus.

I really want to be in America for this fiasco, but I think it’s an even more interesting being away and seeing a more world view of it. And now, instead of doing lots of homework due tomorrow, I’m giddily reading as much shit as I can on the election. I know it’s only 11:35 AM there, but fuck. I don’t admit it here, but I’m an American, and ever since I’ve been able to vote, I’ve been really into this shit. For God’s sake, I was even out there at my university trying to get people to register. I would have volunteered for Hilary’s campaign if I weren’t so poor and busy (then I would’ve switched to Obama by default).
I know I’m going to jump out of bed tomorrow morning and check the internet for the winner. I can’t wait. I really can’t. But in all honestly, I know I’ll just press snooze and get up 30 minutes later.

6 Novembre 2008
Mercredi

Around 4PM today, I suddenly got incredibly fatigued and just needed to sit down. Earlier in the day I had taken Tylenol as an attempt to curb cold symptoms, but I guess it had worn off.

Against all odds, I recklessly braved going out to a book reading by David Sedaris, one of my favorite authors. I had come 30 minutes early, praising myself for my punctuality. But as I approached the Anglophone bookstore, I could see a line of people outside the shop, with the tiny place completely packed. Luckily, some elderly people didn’t have it in them and left, and so I was able to find a nice spot inside with a good view of the TV that had David Sedaris. He was upstairs, but since the Village Voice is so tiny they had to set up a TV and a speaker system.

As I made my way inside the store, I saw little signs on the doorways that read “Congratulations OBAMA.” People still had Obama ’08 pins on. I stood in a bookstore with both French, English, and American Sedaris and Obama fans. When Sedaris wasn’t talking, people were still buzzing about Obama’s win, having real discussions about the election that I’ve sadly missed so incredibly much. They quoted politicians and newscasters and the silliness of it all. Most people around me had enough knowledge of the election, enough of a sense of humor, and enough distance to really enjoy it all.

It was like another world separate from Paris and France. I honestly felt like I was back in America, which may be a good thing or a bad thing. Either way, it was incredibly nostalgic and it really made my week.

After some hilarious anecdotes and a few readings Sedaris had time to sign books. While waiting in line and scoping out beautiful faux intellectual Frenchies that also spoke English, I chatted with a woman who looked to be about 50. She talked to me about her life and her family, how she used to be a model and then an actress, then a model again. What struck me was that there was just so much sadness behind her words. Here I was, soaking in everyone’s post-Obama giddiness and in high spirits from Sedaris, waiting in line to meet him, when this woman is sharing information about her life that nearly makes me want to leave Paris and just sit in a hole and cry. She’s obviously led an incredible life, but she had to sacrifice her job and her dreams for a husband who got in an accident and a son who’s schizophrenic. She told me how he can’t read English, and that Sedaris is the only English author that he can and attempts to read…she was there to get a book signed by him to give to her son. It was ridiculously sad and touching, and I didn’t know how to her other than generic “Oh he’s going to love this gift!” or “That’s really interesting.” All the while, me being the asshole I am, I kept looking at one guy behind her and the fellow in front of me, thinking of clever ways to flirt with either one of them. “Hey beautiful, do you want to get Naked, When You Are Engulfed in Flames? We’ll Dress Our Family in Corduray and Denim and Talk Pretty One Day, just you and me.”

Why I did it, I don’t know. But I brought up the topic of regret to this random American-French old woman. Why the fuck would anyone do that? I told her I didn’t believe in regret, that everything we experience is necessary to educate ourselves, and we wouldn’t be the same person if we went back and changed it. We wouldn’t know what we did wrong had we did things differently. Why would some snot nosed 23 year old tell an old woman this? She corrected me, saying “Well you’re young and you have a whole life ahead of you. I’m old, and I have very few regrets but regrets nonetheless.” I would peer over at the cute boy behind her looking at me, his face reading, “Don’t do this to her, for the love of God, just talk to her about puppies and unicorns or something.”

The line eventually became a blob that crowded around Sedaris. When I had reached the front and he was entertaining the people around him, I seemingly forgot that I idolized him because I felt so bad for this woman next to me. So when Sedaris would throw in silly anecdotes, I forgot that he’s the funny guy, and not me. I threw in my normal quips and jokes that made everyone laugh but David Sedaris. I thought, “I just made people laugh. I’m charming. But David Sedaris didn’t laugh. Maybe I should repeat myself, maybe he didn’t hear me.” This happened several times.

Eventually it was my turn. He had made earlier remarks about book readings in the Philippines and how he didn’t understand why Filipinos liked him there, since he thought there was no middle class, and there’s no way they could relate to his anecdotes. “I’m one of the Filipinos that really like you,” I told him. He asked if I was a balikbayan, which confused the hell out of me. I had always heard that word associated with boxes and inanimate objects to be sent to and from the Philippines, and the word holds no direct translation in my brain. So there I was, standing their awkwardly, as David Sedaris explained to me my own supposed language. He then had a lovely segue into Filipino chain stores, and then let me know of a great restaurant where Filipino midgets serve you.

I left feeling bittersweet. His books have really helped me through the most stressful times in my life (his books and cigarettes, really), and I had just met him and had a few laughs. However, I had also met a woman that gave me enough information about her life, ambition, growing old and losing it all that scared the shit out of me. I’d rather live simply with one emotion at a time. Happy, sad, angry, etc. But not this. I don’t want to be happy while despondent, thoughtful yet giddy. What the shit is that? And don’t give me that human complexity bullshit.

8 Novembre 2008
Samedi

I ran out of clean underwear and socks today, so I went to H&M to buy more to put off doing laundry.

This proved to be an unwise decision. I dressed really warm since I’m sick. To me it was freezing outside, but once I got in it was steaming with swarming Parisians and too many teenagers trying on fuzzy hats. I constantly am switching from freezing to melting, so I think that’s why I got this cold.

I saw several things I wanted at H&M: Peacoats, scarves, gloves, hats, cash registers full of money, and several hottays. I’m actually looking for a nice black peacoat, but I’m outraged at the prices and sizes. I came to Europe expecting sizes to be slim and small. Sure, there’s still no comparison to America’s ample selection of XXXL, but I angrily pushed things aside looking for smalls and extra smalls. I saw plenty of skinny faggots in form fitting clothes today, and I feel like they’ll take their shopping secrets to the grave. I wanted to push them against tacky H&M racks and demand, “Where did you get that coat? WHO DO YOU WORK FOR?” My past 3 years of attempting to gain weight so I could fit into clothes were all for naught…France has driven my gym habits away, my protein intake is down, I don’t eat nearly as much as I should because I’m poor, and my frustration with things has me smoking more.

I’ve lost my battle with weight.

9 Novembre 2008
Dimanche

A stranger approached me today and asked for directions. Like a fucking champ, I gave her precise directions in French. I felt invincible, and I almost wanted to run ahead and hide in a corner as her and her friend found their destination successfully, and witness the triumph of my feat. Then I would approach them and say, “Yes, I spoke to you in French, and I gave you directions in a town that I just moved to. Am I not awesome? Are you not amazed at my remarkable skill of direction giving? Marvel at my victory over the French language, over my victory over Paris, as you enter this store in complete confidence of where you were going.”