My life: a lot of potential and very little realization.
Very few posts on this blog, as well. But you might find some entertaining stuff if you go back a few years in the archives.
Thank heavens nobody seems to have listened — neither have I, actually, can’t gather the courage. I’ll do better next time. (Hadn’t done better in the Netizen magazine interview… but that time I had been too busy to meet with the journalist, and I basically said the opposite of what he intended to write.)

For two months now I’ve been walking all the way North of République to the Chinese supermarket, and what do I see tonight coming home from some shopping? Two “Supermarché Volta” trucks covered with ideograms — turns out there are three Asian supermarkets in the same street, one hundred meters away from my building. And one of the three doesn’t stink. Despite the presence of a butcher. That’s something.
I’m also glad I finally tried the Tunisian restaurant that’s too doors away from my home. It’s always nice living near a good, cheap restaurant. Of course, a sushi place would be better for my diet, but there are already plenty of those in the neighborhood anyway.
And let’s finish on a desperate note: it’s late May already. Almost June. After which is July, and then August, and a deserted Paris. And then it’s Christmas. A whole year past and I’ve done nothing!
I’ve got to hire friends so I can go out (now that I have roughly enough money to buy myself some drinks, and more than enough work to justify getting drunk in bars). But I’ve never quite known how one does that. You’ve got to start by fucking them, that’s how it’s done in the gay world, right?

Quick poll: who uses del.icio.us?
P.S. What, seriously, nobody?
In the “let’s do something with those assorted colored lights we ordered by mistake” series, tonight the Concorde obelisk was red.

In other news, my cameraphone is crap.
Je ne remercie personne de m’avoir prévenu que c’était encore un week-end de trois jours, parce que personne ne m’a prévenu que c’était encore un week-end de trois jours. (Bande de flemmards de salariés.) Ce n’est qu’en voyant l’Arc de Triomphe éclairé en bleu, encadré par les flots blancs et rouges de voitures sur les Champs-Elysée au clair de lune, que j’ai réalisé qu’il se passait quelque chose.
On ne peut vraiment compter sur personne --- comment vous voulez que je sache que je dois prévoir à boire et à manger pour trois jours au lieu de deux_?! Vous croyez que je vais le savoir par moi-même, peut-être_? Genre, je prête la moindre attention aux jours de vacances de la plèbe.Bon, sérieusement, Monoprix République est ouvert, cette fois, ou pas ? Comme je ne fais absolument pas confiance aux chiens que vous êtes, je n’accepterai pas de réponses sans preuves photographiques. Vous seriez capables de me mentir, sales cons.
Et puis pensez-vous que quelqu’un m’aurait prévenu que la pharmacie ouverte toute la nuit boulevard Sébastopol ferme à deux heures du matin ? Hein ? Non, vraiment. Je vous hais.

One can not be happy if one is lonely.

I’m not a big fan of the drop by…
The drop by, it’s a discourtesy. Polite society has a protocol. An agreed upon time and place. You make plans.
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