Some Times Life Looks Like A Fairy Tale

by

Fairy Tale

Fairy Tale

Even if it does not always feel like one.

Despite my worries, despite my anxieties, despite my constant getting lost, life, my life really is a fairy tale when I let myself live it.

Fairy tale means to live happily ever after, it is by definition what is called a “eucatastrophe” as opposed to a “catastrophe”.

Just being here in Paris is a dream come true.  It could at any time become a catastrophe, but I believe today I finally let myself realize that I am here, I am living here, I am allowed to be happy here.

Oh, I don’t doubt that there is struggle ahead, I know that there will be work, lots and lots of work.

However, to not stop and smell the Paris, the roses are out of season, I would be remiss.  I am allowed to stop and admire the leaves falling from the trees and watch the color of the sky change from deep robins egg blue to chased wild iris blue in a twinkling of a gust of wind.

Bridge

Bridge

I am allowed.

I am also allowed to have even more dreams.

I am getting used to telling people who I came here to write.  That I am a writer.

That I write a blog, that I have written a book, that I am going to publish it here.  Or get published here.

I am embracing myself and embracing this city.  Even when I am confounded by the Metro station or the streets or the sudden bursts of rain.

I found myself on the Left Bank today and went to Shakespeare and Company to pick up a Fusac an English-speaking magazine for ex-pats and a new book.

I got the new Will Self and I also took a photograph of the store and the open Mic poster.

I plan on attending.

I have not done an open Mic in some time.

Why not get back into it?

Paris Open Mic

Paris Open Mic

I told myself, and Radha, that I would get into the stream of writing, I would put myself in situations where writers are and that would probably happen at an Open Mic at Shakespeare and Company.

Shakespeare and Company

Shakespeare and Company

I also dropped a centime in the wishing well.

I wish for the one thing I always wish for, which has been granted me for over seven and a half years.

I also wished for the opportunity to do a reading of my own book at the store.

I want my book to be sold at the store.

Hell, I want my book to be sold just about anywhere, but especially here.

Amongst the tower of books and the towering legends of writers that have wandered through the stacks and made the store a part of their Paris home.

Next to the book store was another dream waiting to be picked up–a luthier.

Luthier

Luthier

I picked up cello a few years back courtesy of a friend at the Burning Man organization.  However, I was unable to keep up with it at the time.  I got just a taste again of what it was like and I want to incorporate that back into my life.

Writer.

Poet.

Blogger.

Cellist.

Yes, yes, yes.

Perhaps a few other things as well.

I met a woman today who has what I want and I asked her to work with me.  She said yes, and we start tomorrow.

Rock on.

Things are happening and I am allowed to continue the dreaming and also to see that the reality is truly spectacular as well.  Sometimes it is the small things that make me smile, I do not always need stunning architecture to show me I am in Paris.

It could be some thing like walking into a store to buy a wash puff and seeing that they carry Chanel and asking the sales lady if they may also carry Chanel Egoiste pour Homme.

And oh, my, god.

They do.

I bought a bottle.

I truly am in Paris.

I smell like I am anyway.  And yes, yea of the sharp eye, I do wear a men’s cologne, but you would never know by the way it works with my body chemistry, and it really does.

I also settled into life here in the 9th arrondissement just a little more fully tonight as well.  We have a guest at the house for the next few days, a fellow lass traveling through crashing on the air mattress on the floor, and as a way to welcome her in and to celebrate the fact that I have a kitchen and I discovered a grocery store–a good one–in the next block of the apartment.

I cooked a meal.

Very French style.

We had boudin sausage–black, and choucrute (sour kraut), with garlic and shallots, pan sauteed baby potatoes that I boiled first, tossed with parsley and olive oil, then drizzled with Racoulete cheese, bread (for my guests), salade with radish and tomate, and yes, after ward I made espresso.

A double for Barnaby.

A creme cafe pour moi.

That’s right I had a cafe creme in my own home that I made with an espresso machine and some espresso I got from the corner market and layered with steamed hazelnut milk.  And nothing quite says, yes I am in Europe like having dinner at 9:45p.m. followed by a cafe at 10:30 p.m.

Life is good in Paris.

I think I will keep enjoying the fairy tale.

I mean the reality.

 

 

 

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