I always loved that one.
It is one of many others I have heard; I don’t know what the figure of speech is called; I wish I knew; but I don’t; I even tried to formulate some once; I couldn’t do any; they are hard to do.
The reason for one of those “whatever they are” being the title of this blog post is that I have been being way too serious of late.
I have been posting serious opinion stuff that no one wants to hear because “no one” (the ones that don’t want to hear anything other than what they want to hear) are already tuned to their own totally acceptable channels.
And I think that is fair; I have people and places from which I find succor and reinforcement.
For example, today after I got back from a two hour walk down La Seine in an intermittent heavy dew and grey lowering skies (god I love this place) I stopped at Le Depart St Michel for some onion soup, wine and reinforcement from a bunch of wait staff people that I really like – and have liked for a number of years.
I guess I introduced my tiny blog audience to Le Depart with the publishing of A Curious Confluence.
It has been a major part of my paris infrastructure for a long time.
Anyway, I got there about 16h45.
I signed on to their Wi Fi and went to Facebook to see if anybody had liked me recently – succor, right?
As I scrolled down the incomprehensible stuff that is Facebook, I discovered a really reinforcing post from a friend.
I clicked on it because there was more to see.
Down stream a way I saw a post from “the dark side” accusing the cast of “Hamilton” of “throwing a tantrum, and demanding apology”.
I replied with an amazingly accommodating reply (which I meant – it yielded nothing and ceded everything, which I pointed out, is our bleak American plight) and immediately experienced the desire to vomit.
So, I decided: I can’t continue with this shit.
So here are a bunch of Paris roses that I have collected in various places over a number of years.
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