...is playing in the bar on my first night alone...I dont' know if that is the name of the song, but they keep saying it over and over again as if that is my secret (or not so secret) mission.
I think I'll get there..I think I'll get there..in my time...
Too frozen to stop the waiter, Nicolas. Afraid that if I order the charcuterie, he'll laugh at me...I say a prayer that at the end of 9 days this won't happen anymore.
Bon Courage - speak loudly and poorly. Be fearless.
Maybe later...note to self, learn how to ask "are you still serving food?" in French.
Come on Sara, (I do mention my own name to myself, quite embarrassing) you talked to Sam Shepard for Chrissakes! Why are you worried aobut these people you will never see again. You can't really care. Not really. You just think you care. You're supposed to care. Who decided that? Who made that decision for you?!
Fine. I didn't want your stupid charcuterie plate anyway...so why are there menus on the table if you don't serve food at night...and don't laugh, I can tell you were originally from Indiana...
I'm doing it all wrong. I hate doing it all wrong. Why am I here? Why don't I leave? Because there is no alcohol in my room...Drinking alone. Is it healthier to drink alone in a group or alone in a hotel room? I don't want to be afraid anymore. I want to let whatever happen, happen. There will be mistakes. There will always be mistakes. Never doubt it. Ever. That's all that's certain.
How old are you, woman? Too young to be this bent out of shape about it...but that's ok because I know one thing I can do, like my friend Christine says "that's the thing about you southerners...you can drink" I always thought I was sophisticated...Maybe I'm not even classy...(Hey Nicolas, wanna give me another bourbon and NOT be stingy this time?)...maybe I'm all pretense. I love the fucked up nature of Tennessee Williams...seeing it on the page makes me feel less crazy. I get it. I understand it. We try to be fragile, (I also speak of myself in plural) we want to be lovely, but deep down, I am a broad, a big brassy broad, just like Kevin said...one who likes red wine and...oh, good idea, "uh Pardon, Nicolas...uh vign rouge...si vous plait...yes...Yes! Red Wine...No, the caraf. Caraf. The jug!?" Christ...and bourbon and the Blues. YEAH. the blues. Annie Lennox and Sade...that's right, Sade, I'll admit it and not only that, I like Jazz...well, some of it. Not the real serious hard core, we got shit to prove jazz. Laid back. Easy. Ici. Drippy. Like the weeping willow over the Seine...hey buddy, don't look at me, my lights off, my body language is closed...that way I don't disappoint or mislead...I know it's not cool to sit in a party atmostphere and be the crazy woman writing in the corner, but what choice do I have...nobody does indulgence better than me...stop looking at me! I'm not going to look at you, I'm from NY, I know the deal, if I make contact then you will try to talk to me...i don't want to be interrupted. I have not been waiting for you/wondering where you were all night...
why didn't I go to the house party with Ori last night? why isn't any of this working out the way i want it to? where the hell is that wine?
I guess I'm not the freewheeling Sara Thigpen after all.
I think I'll get there..I think I'll get there..in my time...
Too frozen to stop the waiter, Nicolas. Afraid that if I order the charcuterie, he'll laugh at me...I say a prayer that at the end of 9 days this won't happen anymore.
Bon Courage - speak loudly and poorly. Be fearless.
Maybe later...note to self, learn how to ask "are you still serving food?" in French.
Come on Sara, (I do mention my own name to myself, quite embarrassing) you talked to Sam Shepard for Chrissakes! Why are you worried aobut these people you will never see again. You can't really care. Not really. You just think you care. You're supposed to care. Who decided that? Who made that decision for you?!
Fine. I didn't want your stupid charcuterie plate anyway...so why are there menus on the table if you don't serve food at night...and don't laugh, I can tell you were originally from Indiana...
I'm doing it all wrong. I hate doing it all wrong. Why am I here? Why don't I leave? Because there is no alcohol in my room...Drinking alone. Is it healthier to drink alone in a group or alone in a hotel room? I don't want to be afraid anymore. I want to let whatever happen, happen. There will be mistakes. There will always be mistakes. Never doubt it. Ever. That's all that's certain.
How old are you, woman? Too young to be this bent out of shape about it...but that's ok because I know one thing I can do, like my friend Christine says "that's the thing about you southerners...you can drink" I always thought I was sophisticated...Maybe I'm not even classy...(Hey Nicolas, wanna give me another bourbon and NOT be stingy this time?)...maybe I'm all pretense. I love the fucked up nature of Tennessee Williams...seeing it on the page makes me feel less crazy. I get it. I understand it. We try to be fragile, (I also speak of myself in plural) we want to be lovely, but deep down, I am a broad, a big brassy broad, just like Kevin said...one who likes red wine and...oh, good idea, "uh Pardon, Nicolas...uh vign rouge...si vous plait...yes...Yes! Red Wine...No, the caraf. Caraf. The jug!?" Christ...and bourbon and the Blues. YEAH. the blues. Annie Lennox and Sade...that's right, Sade, I'll admit it and not only that, I like Jazz...well, some of it. Not the real serious hard core, we got shit to prove jazz. Laid back. Easy. Ici. Drippy. Like the weeping willow over the Seine...hey buddy, don't look at me, my lights off, my body language is closed...that way I don't disappoint or mislead...I know it's not cool to sit in a party atmostphere and be the crazy woman writing in the corner, but what choice do I have...nobody does indulgence better than me...stop looking at me! I'm not going to look at you, I'm from NY, I know the deal, if I make contact then you will try to talk to me...i don't want to be interrupted. I have not been waiting for you/wondering where you were all night...
why didn't I go to the house party with Ori last night? why isn't any of this working out the way i want it to? where the hell is that wine?
I guess I'm not the freewheeling Sara Thigpen after all.
