Phalènes Et Pestilence

Let me start off by saying that I am feeling quite sick. Great, the day I leave for France is also the day that my body decides to succumb to sickness. I don't feel like writing at all right now, and I am far from being "on my game". I'm willing to give this a go, despite how half-assed this is probably going to be.

I'm returning to Paris after a six year hiatus, though not in the best state. God I hope that I feel better by the time I get there. Maybe it's just the nerves. I feel like I'm sweating liquid cheese and the moths that flutter outside my window at twilight have now made their home in my stomach, laying eggs and sustaining themselves on my corpus. I'm loosing acidity and my ability to kill bacteria, becoming more and more basic, melting away into the keyboard. My brain is boiling and my palms are sweaty. If any of you have read "The Soft Machine" by Burroughs, you could copy and paste just about any paragraph onto this post and it would adequately describe my physical state. Soapy. Egg flesh. Mucus.

What I want to do in Paris: I would like to visit the famous Catacombs of Paris. There is just something inherently appealing about visiting the sub-terrestrial resting place of over six million people. Many pictures will be taken and the most blasphemous of black metal will be blasted at full volume.

One of my fondest memories of Paris is my trek to the Sacre Coeur, the "Sacred Heart" of Paris
( link, just in case you don't know what I'm talking about: http://www.pariserve.tm.fr/quartier/Montmartre/sacre-coeur.htm). From the Red-Light District, I remember climbing one of the largest staircases that I have ever had the opportunity to ascend. At the top, my classmates and I were greeted with a myriad of drunken teenagers and hill-sledding hippies (It was the middle of spring and there were literally a bunch of kids sledding down the grassy hill in front of the huge, white church). My friends and I (I was actually lucky enough to be staying in Paris with two of my best friends) indulged in some tentatively legal beverages and watched the Eiffel Tower light show from the highest point in Paris. It was a splendid time, and I would definitely recommend this excursion to anyone visiting Paris. I will, without a doubt, be there on Saturday night, to relax and relive the spectacle.

Oh yeah, registration was a feculent experience. Yes, feculent. I don't want to talk about it.

Alright. Well the ambulance is here and I'm off to get some fluids pumped into my lifeless body. Until next week.

-Tyler C.