Ok so if I want to go to the art store, I go upstairs past the metro "Lamarck" and there is an art store there on the left. Past the bakery and past Marcadet. The name is Adam's Art. The coffe I am drinking in this dark tall ceiling caf� is thick and black. I put in lumps of sugar and help them dissolve with a little spoon. Valerie and Robert drink coffee and look at newspapers. I think back to this mornings email. Tom Pulcinski, wrote that he had spent 3 weeks in Poland with his grandmother. He is now in Utah of all places helping his sister move. Then he is off to Oaxaca, Mexico where his wild friend Naim has purchased some land. The croscent I am eating is buttery and wrapped in twisted white paper. I think that it must be a chore for everyone to try to speak English to me all the time.
So I need a calling card and paper. I visualize Chagall floating over Paris and the Chimneys. Wine and coffee floating in the air. Words like Pardon, avec, merci, combine, and bonjour float in the sky and around brightly colored charkas emanating from my heart.
I wonder if Charlie will call or should I call him. Maybe that was him calling yesterday when I was being kicked off the internet. He has said he will be calling when he moves out from his wife.
Later I speak to Charlie in a phone booth. He has spent the night at my house. He has made the leap. He has moved in with me. Naturally, I feel happy.
Feb 1, 2002
Maybe Charlie is upset, depressed, or just plain crazy. What is the deal? Today he sent me an email that he was really struggling and did not know what to do�.This is after spending the night at my house.
I went down to the phone booth with 32 minutes on the phone card and called him.
First though, I couldn't dial the number correctly because I couldn't remember the correct country code. I had to run back up 5 flights of Robert's steep stairs to get my glasses so I could see the directions. Then I saw I must dial 00 - 1 - # to call the USA. So he answers in his business like voice "berry" as he works for a company called "Berry". He begins to tell me he is thinking of killing himself but he wants me to have a good time in Paris.
I practically scream at him, "How can I have a good time in Paris if I get emails like the one I just got." We decide he is going to go back to my house after work and call me. Apparently he never does because he spends the night with his wife and she makes arrangements for him to get a doctors appointment and medication the following Monday. I feel destroyed. The guy can't even spend one night away. All his intentions that he is ready to leave his wife, he loves me, and he can't live without me are just so much BS.
Feb 2, 2002
Today, I think a man was following me as I walked up and down and checked out the cafes on Boulevard Montparnasse. I was looking at which caf� had a window seat, was slightly busy, has a shrimp salad, and had some light in it. There are movie theatres every
where here and movies all say "version francaise". I have heard I need to find one that say Original Version and then it is in english. All I find is Harry Potter (seen it) and "The Others". Since Robert has been leaving me alone in his 5th floor studio most nights while he takes off with his girlfriends I don't particularly want to see a scary movie. I walk into a caf� and the man follows me and sits behind me. His eyes are following my every move as I order caf� and shrimp salad. He smokes and watches me.
Thinking back to last night and Valerie's Birthday Party (Valerie is Robert's girlfriend). My clothing is all smelling of smoke. The caf� was the first stop where we had multiple bottles of champagne. Valerie included the owners of the caf�, the patrons, neighbors, some dancers, Robert, myself, Valerie's mother, and cousin. There was also a blond French porn star attending. I would have thought she was Robert's girlfriend as she looked just like one of his old girlfriends years ago in art school. A gal named Barbara Wolf. Apparently, she does live sex shows near the Moulin Rouge, nude models for Robert, and was a former mistress of his as well. I was informed that one of the paintings he did of her is in the erotic museum of art. I took some photos with the digital. Maybe I can figure out how to put them on livejournal.
Later after the champagne at the caf�, we took a taxi to a restaurant. There was myself, Valerie, her other friend Valerie, Ellen, and William. I had some mackeral pate on toast, smokes salmon soup w/ chives, a flounder with a green onion chive sauce, garlic mashed potatoes, and crepe suzettes for dessert. What a treat. Everyone spoke non stop French. I think I understood a lot of it. I asked what some words ment by saying Ques que ce ____?
I feel like a kind of a giant looking person here. Everyone is so small next to me. I suppose if I stayed here long enough I would shrink a bit.
The man behind me is still watching my every move here at the caf� in Montparnasse. I am now eating a shrimp salad with way too much mayonnaise on it.
Later, I quickly pay and run out of the caf�. I duck down quickly into the Metro which is the underground subway system. The man does not follow me of if he does he can not find me in the maze of trains. The stalking spooked me some and I watched my behind all the way back to Montmartre.
February 5, 2002
I saw a sign on a street off the Rue De Rivoli that said "Detective de Luc". It was in neon and over a Japanese Restaurant. I took a photo but I am not sure if it came out. Today, I was walking walking walking, crying crying, crying over that Charlie Abbott. He called me last night and said he was going to move out of his house again and into my house. He was going to call me at Robert's when he got there to let me know. He asked me to come home early. He was all lovey, dovey speaking of our future as a couple and how happy we would be.
This morning, since he did not call during the night, I do not know what to do. If I want to change my ticket to come home perhaps on Thursday, I have to take the metro to the center of Paris to the Air France office at the Champs de Elysee. I call Charlie at the payphone in the square with a quickly purchased phone card. I become unglued in the phone booth and start screaming at him all kinds of names and saying he is playing with me like a cat and mouse. He says he went home and dinner was ready so he stayed and ate as he was tired. I hang up on him once and then call him back. I am screaming at him and crying. He is saying "oh baby don't cry". He got some medication from the doctor. I have got to assume he started taking it and now his wife can lead him about by the nose and he won't be able to think for himself. Well, that's it I decide. No going home really early for this guy. He can stay, he can go. I am staying in Paris one more week just like I planned. I can do my writing, some art, walking, and take in the sites. I am still very upset and cry as I get on the metro. I guess this is more than a good indication of what a jerk this guy is or how screwed up this situation is at this moment. Last night on IM, my friend Jim Noonan suggested I should just stay in Paris and write this stuff down. He said that my descriptions of Robert and his models, girls, and Paris are fabulous. This sounds like a good idea to me.
At this moment, I am in a place called "The World Caf�" near the Opera in Paris. I ordered pizza and a beer. Pizza Margarhita and a Heinekin to be exact. I thought the pizza might ground me after my hysterical phone conversation with Charlie. I got on the metro not knowing where I was going or what I was doing. I should just put that man out of my mind.
I am planning on staying in Paris till next Tuesday - Feb 12. Let the chips fall where they may. I will be working on my homework and my story.