Hi! Do you remember blogs? Well, this used to be one. Now it just serves as an archive for my multiple Twitter accounts.
There’s someone, living right next to me (like, fifty meters away or something), who’s liable to lose free passes to the Redlight in the middle of the street, here, even though I live ten miles away from Paris. So, if you’re young and handsome and have nice abs and you lost a free Redlight pass for this night, write me. (Yeah, I know chances are he’d read the French version, if he read my site at all.) But you’ll have to prove it’s yours. Or you’ll have to seduce me. Which might not be so much easier.
I believe far too much in Mister Destiny. It’s unhealthy. Since I found this pass last night, I’ve spent way too much time thinking about how I had to go out at that time (later than usual), miss the bus by just a few minutes, decide to walk instead of wait for the next one, and someone had to lose this pass at the right place, and it didn’t fly off (or it did and landed where it had to), and it was intact, and nobody picked it up beofre me, and I saw it, and I was curious enoughto pick it up, and… see where I’m going? Yeah, you see all to well that I’m just a desperate loser who prefers to see signs everywhere rather than try and work his life up himself. Sure. But that’s not really what I meant to say, because it’s my blog here, and I’m supposed to try and sell myself, somehow. Well, sell, intellectually. I mean, not really sell, since I’m not going to make any money here, but just generally show myself in a favorable light and flatter my megalomania.
Well, anyhow. Coincidences don’t exist, they say, sometimes. So, what if that little innocuous pass for a club I won’t name so that you can’t go and hunt the garoo there tonight (yes, I know it’s too late, I already named it, and I won’t bother to edit the first paragraph), what if this pass was the key to my future? Huh? Not necessarily my sentimental future, because I don’t feel really open to new encounters on that level (who am I kidding? I’m exactly in the mood to marry anyone just so I get out of this coma), but maybe my profe… process.. protec… oh, fuck it, a whole other aspect of my future. Something completely unpredictable, so I’m not going to try any further to predict it, particularly because it would prevent anything from happening.
Did I ever tell you that my only superstition (unless I’m forgetting something, but I think not) is that what happens to me is always, systematically, what I don’t expect when I least expect, and that (corollary) if I expect something it will never happen? (I’m obviously only talking about events that are out of my control here. Because, otherwise, whether I expect it or not, nothing ever happens, because I don’t do anything to make it happen. You figured that by yourself, didn’t you? I think I need a <span> so my parenthesized sentences appear subdued and the thought process of my post is clearer.) So there. I don’t even need anymore to go to
the Redlight that club I won’t name (besides, I can’t see why I’d advertise for them before I even go there, maybe I’ll hate this place), since I expect it to change my life, and I just established that it wouldn’t. Particularly as I have said (well, written) it in public, which multiplies by a hundred the chances that nothing will happen.
So I’ll just spend a bad night in a little club at Montparnasse and spend two hours in two different night buses to go back home one hour after I arrived there. Nothing special.
Wow. That’s quite a long text to be published at a time when my website is down.