(incidentally, I just have to get this off my chest. Fr says it's not coffee because by the time I'm finished preparing it, I've brought into play every concept conceivable in Applied Chemistry. To which I say dude, I freakin' suffered for Chemistry. I mean suffered. My morning coffee is the working result of 3 years of slow death in chemistry labs. It is an elegant study in the correct ratio of milk, sugar, temperature, and caffeine. It is a soothing, sand-colored witch's brew that has the added bling that it can jump-start you in 2,4 seconds. My coffee deserves respect. My coffee deserves diligence. My cafe deserves...
a Nobel Prize.
Just sayin'. Where was I?
Over my Nobel Laureate coffee, I received an email which read:
It's been over a year since you last posted. You are now on my Really Cruddy Blogger List. Have a nice day.
Someone actually keeps a Really Cruddy Blogger List?
But moreover, has it really been a year? Really? Wow, time flies when you're avoiding near-death experiences. So I thought about it, and am going to attempt to kick-start my writing again, so that instead of being on someone's "Really Cruddy Blogger List," I'll be on their
Really Bad-Ass Blogger List
(Sadly, this counts as adequate motivation in my feeble little mind. Jeez, some days I feel like I have a brain the size of a pea.)
So here we go, kick-starting this thing. Although even this post has taken over three days to write. I'm watching "Julie and Julia" for inspiration, no joke.
(I just had this one-sided conversation with Fr (in French):
me: I have this strange impression that I've lived this life already about 6 times, and now it weighs a lot more and isn't light anymore!
Fr: :)
me: And I'm always hungry, as if I'm feeding all 6 lives!
(pause)me: (in a moment of revelation) I am an angry chicken! Fr: ......... me: I just sat 2 hours in front of a film about cuisine. I'm malnourished and could eat an entire wheel of unpasteurizd cheese. By myself. Fr: there's a putain de chat that's been crying for the past 5 minutes. Vive le cheese. )
And there's also a bigger issue than my motivation:
WHAT
TO
WRITE
ABOUT
TO
WRITE
ABOUT
Seriously, I'm not in France anymore. There is nothing interesting about my living situation, which has become as bland as the wine they produce in this country. I'm not even making wine. I'm not even TASTING wine.
But I sure as hell am gonna try to write about it. Take that, Jancis Robinson. This will be the People's Wine Blog. Freedom and the right to drink cheap wine to all.
(Don't be offended, Jancis Robinson or copyright gurus. I like Jancis Robinson. I like London. London is cool and hip and drinks a lot of wine. London drinks of lot of Bordeaux wine. I also like to poke fun at Jancis Robinson, and all the other wine critics, because they get paid to do what we all secretly want to get paid to do.)
It'll be random thoughts for a while, at least until I find a Real OenoJob and get to be a Real Oenologue, and can put the focus back on WINE. But for now, I just spent 2 hours in front of a movie about food, it's after midnight, and it's time to go stuff some cornbread into the whiny maw that calls itself my stomach.
(A good blanc de Bourgogne might go really well with cornbread. I'll have to try that out next time I'm actually capable of getting cornmeal and Bourgogne at the same supermarket.)
Gaaaww it sucks to be BORED.
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