dimanche 21 octobre 2007

the girl next door

So, I met my voisine, or neighbor, today, who just happens to be a total hottie. She's a girl, by the by, and I feel very comfortable calling girls "hot" or beautiful now since I see a lot of them in Paris. I'm not a lesbian or anything, and I have nothing against homosexuality at all. My favorite guy here is gay. Anyway, she's hot. And I think I appreciate, more than ever, the female form and female beauty. Must be all the hotties and the art museums.

Anyway, she got locked out of her apartment, and she knocked on my door absolutely frantic to use my computer to find a serrurier to pry open her door. Her sister, who was with her, called the locksmith for her. Being the nice person I am, I offered to let her wait in my apartment--it would be rude not to! Besides, she was barefoot. I was studying on my bed when she knocked, so she just sat on my bed, and I studied at my table. We talked a little bit. She's a law student living alone. She's really nice, probably because I was doing her a favor, but still. When the guy came, she said thanks and said I was very nice. Don't think I'll see her again as we've never even crossed paths before.

Was a total idiot at my friend's birthday dinner. Spilled wine all over myself. Then I almost stabbed her German voisine with a fondue fork, but the German didn't see, I hope, thank God. She offered me gum after dinner. We talked in French and sometimes I just had to speak in English. I have this weird thing that I can only really understand French when the French speak it. But when my friends speak it, I have to have them repeat it. I'm so weird and slow. And, for the life of me, I couldn't speak any French during dinner today. I was completely horrible. Bah. I ate snails too. They were chewy like calamari. Okay. Mont St. Michel. Can I just say, amazing? I wrote this a couple hours ago about the experience: I don't care how much I love film—it's a poor subsitute for real life. It's like that glass in interrogation rooms. You can see the subject, but it can't see you or know you're there.

I brought my video camera to Mont St. Michel to document the trip. The thing is, I found myself not being able to fully enjoy myself because I was looking through the lens, scanning and zooming, seeing this beautiful, amazing place through this camera. I fully knew then that there was no way I could ever be a documentary filmmaker. There's just so much footage to capture, to sift through.

But I did enjoy myself, nonetheless. Climbing endless stairs only to reach the most breathtaking view you could ever ask for: fields of wheat and grass, a river flowing to the sea, the flat landscape of sand, and then, finally, the calm ocean. We walked through the abbey. Stood where the monks prayed and ate.

What a wonder. What a world. The whole experience, like most, made me feel small, insignificant. I thought about the monks if they ever felt what I felt. I am nothing in comparison to God, to time, to space, to history. Recurring questions that still haunt me: What do I have to give? What can I give that has meaning? What's my purpose?

One of my answers came. I was editing the video, and two hours passed in an instant. I was that into it. How I love to edit, put images together, set them to music. That's the answer, at least one of many. I hope that the video will be up in a week or so. I hope to make more. The goal of it is to make you want to travel. To make you see how cinematic mundane things can be, like sitting in a bus for four hours.I hope you like it.

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