http://bahoorah.com/chroniques In which an American writer navigates the dédale parisien in search of the meaning of life or, at the very least, a 2€ demi, while pondering the unerring wisdom of his sometimes fictitious French roommate, Bruce Mon, 21 May 2007 05:58:39 +0000 http://backend.userland.com/rss092 en The title is a little misleading, for in fact Bruce already speaks English. If I sometimes reproduce here in his low-fidelity anglophonics the things he says to me, it is not (usually) to give the reader a cheap laugh at a Frenchman’s expense but rather to capture Bruce’s anecdotes and ... http://bahoorah.com/chroniques/?p=19 When the topic of the transmigration of souls arises, people typically express the hope that that they not be reincarnated as a(n) insert member of lower family/genus/species. Me, I prefer a glass half full. Thus I like to assume, not without a little pride, that in my former life I was ... http://bahoorah.com/chroniques/?p=18 1) Olive oil 2) Honey 3) Olive oil and honey — Bruce, I say, I’m not sure any of those are going to do much good. Bruce has his hand deep inside his sweatpants. Gratte gratte. Bruce has gone commando today I see. Gratte. Gratte gratte gratte gratte. He grimaces painfully, and does a ... http://bahoorah.com/chroniques/?p=17 Two trips sufficed to move all of my worldly possessions into Bruce’s apartment. One for the large suitcase I brought with me, and a second for my pillow and the new duvet I bought to replace Bruce’s catastrophe of hearts and roses. My belongings having been unceremoniously chucked into my ... http://bahoorah.com/chroniques/?p=16 L’être ou le néant, voilà le problème. Monter, descendre, aller, venir, tant fait l’homme qu’à la fin il disparaît. Un taxi l’emmène, un métro l’emporte, la tour n’y prend garde, ni le Panthéon. Paris n’est qu’un songe, Gabriel n’est qu’un rêve (charmant), Zazie le songe d’un rêve (ou d’un chauchemar) ... http://bahoorah.com/chroniques/?p=15 Between meeting Bruce and agreeing to live with him, I had spent a week looking at a number of apartments around town. The first place I saw would have been ideal: a room in a large haussmannien apartment with three twenty-four-year-old French girls. Unfortunately, during the interview, which was conducted entirely ... http://bahoorah.com/chroniques/?p=14 I hesitate. I honestly don’t know what I think. I do know, however, that Juning is coming back to take my room on rue Tolbiac and that I’m shit out of luck if I don’t have a new place by then. And I know that having a French roommate will ... http://bahoorah.com/chroniques/?p=13 — Renovations? I ask. Last year, he explains, a fire gutted the apartment. Indeed, if you lean out the living room window, you can still find scorch marks on the sill. The owner, who inherited the property from his grandmother and who was loath to give it up, let it to ... http://bahoorah.com/chroniques/?p=12 The following Friday, I went to see Bruce’s apartment at 20h (that’s eight o’clock to you and me). After close to half an hour of wandering up and down the rue du Faubourg St-Denis in search of the Passage Brady, I had to call Bruce and ask for him to ... http://bahoorah.com/chroniques/?p=11 How did Bruce know that I desperately needed a place? Maybe it was that unmistakable shelter-hungry look in my eyes, the tense, keen glare of the apartment-hunter espying potential quarry. I needed to find a place and fast. To begin with, there was no chance for me to stay more than ... http://bahoorah.com/chroniques/?p=8