Bouleversant, Ce Tour
It’s one thing for a major champion with an illustrious career to fall from his heights. The Jose Cansecos and Ben Johnsons of this world know that there is no sympathy for the wicked. We imagine them, bulky and pensive, sitting on their towers as the world spits bile on their names. But, it’s another thing for one of the little guys, an unknown, an extra, to be found guilty of doping and not put up a fight. Cristian Moreni, one of the Cofidis riders, was found to have abnormally high levels of testosterone in his urine sample from Stage 11 of this year’s Tour. He admitted use of the drug and was immediately taken away, while the rest of his team withdrew from the Tour de France.
While I had only shock at Vino’s drug use, shock and incredulity, the vilification of Moreni brings nothing but sadness. How pathetic can it be, for one of the riders at the bottom of the Tour, a real no name, to be caught for this? One can imagine the circumstance: a barely professional rider, who makes little money and has few prospects in the future, taking drugs just to stay in the Tour, to earn his bread and butter, before the desert years as an unemployed former-cyclist. It is an almost Dosteyoevskian context. That he came clean on his use so quickly, when he has everything to lose, is humbling. Morality aside, this is a sport which breaks grown men and women’s hearts.
(more…)Pottering in a Cave
That’s right… I caved and bought the last in the Potter series. I won’t have much to say until I’m done but I hope to get back my social life in two days. I have been carefully avoiding all spoilers, much like Maitresse, who accompanied me to see the newest film last night with absolutely no shame. We had a fun time deriding Andre Breton and egging on Derrida, but that was only the preface to some popcorn mania and the Order of the Phoenix movie. Ah, how the mighty have fallen. Still, if I were Hermione, I’d snog Ron already. Shamefully shaggable indeed.
July 24, 2007
The Ghosts won’t Starve
Written kisses don’t reach their destination, rather they are drunk on the way by the ghosts. It is on this ample nourishment that they multiply so enormously. Humanity senses this and fights against it and in order to eliminate as far as possible the ghostly element between people and to create a natural communication, the peace of souls, it has invented the railway, the motor car, the aeroplane. But it’s no longer any good, these are evidently inventions being made at the moment of crashing. The opposing side is so much calmer and stronger; after the postal service it has invented the telegraph, the telephone, the radiograph. The ghosts won’t starve, but we will perish. —– Franz Kafka in his letter to Milena
July 18, 2007
The Great Myspace Idiocracy
I’d already made up my mind that Myspace was not only ugly, elitist and irritating, not to mention not user-intuitive, but this sealed the deal. A major multi-million dollar website run by one of the biggest media conglomerates should not have any typos, let alone on the account settings! I’m on Facebook these days. More fun, and much prettier!
July 16, 2007
Die Best
Die Hard 4.0 is AWESOME! Better than all the other Die Hards except the first. Go see it now. It’ll blow the lid off summer! Bruce Willis is BACK! Timex watch effects in the digital age prove that muscle is not 3D! A mouth-watering feast of real-life stunts! Dialogue that makes the Matrix look dated! An updated hero for our paranoid times!
-This review is tailor made for a movie poster quote.
Die Hard Chicken Mayo
I managed to climb three rocks yesterday. Three small insignificant greyish slabs with odd markings on them.
“The white arrow means it’s for children.”
“Good, I’ll try it.”
Not that I am a child, but when I’m halfway up a rock I always inveritably scream for my mother. Later, while watching the new Die Hard, I suddenly wondered if Bruce Willis could ever be scared by a rock in the forest with a white arrow on it. I guess rocks wouldn’t scare a man with a head like his.
So by the time I got home to see today’s stage in the Alps of the Tour de France, I was suitably primed for spectacular stunts of the superhuman order. Undisappointingly, the stage was won by Michael Rasmussen, a skeletal Danish rider who specializes in having no hair, followed by Iban Mayo. Rasmussen’s nickname is Chicken, which prompted Benoit’s unfailingly sharp wit to say… “ahhh, today it is a Chicken Mayo special.” BADA-BAM!
July 14, 2007
Cute Boy vs. Velib
Last night, while standing outside the Pearl with Steve and his Canadian pals, our conversation was briefly hushed as a very wonderful boy walked past. There was a wave of pauses as he ran the gauntlet of rue Vieille du Temple. Not soon after, a similar rush of silence, followed by “OOOOHHH”s, ran through the same crowd. This time it was for the small lorry carrying all the new Velib bikes. Hard to imagine that granny looking bikes would elicit the same sound of wonder as a very cute boy, but there you have it. Parisians like to goggle over strange objects they can’t/won’t ever use but find admirable in idea.
July 13, 2007
Le Tour avec Moi!
I will be on France Culture, next Thursday, commenting on a program on the Tour de France. Listen for a mild Birkin-style accent. I’m soooo excited! We will be recording this from a very chic hotel in Montpellier, and I have full access to the cyclist’s village the next day. So, stay tuned for more details, and funny interviews and autographs from my favourite riders, like David Zabriskie and others!
Une Semaine à Montpellier: Le Tour de France de Pascal D’Huez - Travaux Publics presenté par Jean LeBrun avec Pascal D’Huez, 18H30-19H30
July 6, 2007
snake pig man idiot
He was a portly older man, wearing an ill-fitting grey suit and oily greased back hair, with eyes that ressembled a toad. He stood outside the Social Security building chatting with a friend. His eyes followed me as I approached. Drawing near he spoke up.
“I love the young girls from my country.”
This was followed by a hissing sound.
Then he grunted in my general direction, snorting out something that was almost a “hey.” He kept grunting. When this met with no reaction he finally broke down.
“Miss, your ass looks ready to be fucked.”
Now seriously. Does that ever work? Imitating first a snake, then a pig in a rut, and finally just a crude idiot will get you nowhere with the opposite sex. Just thinking these kinds of people actually find people to procreate with, multiplying in their kind, gives me the shivers.
July 3, 2007
You were Paris
The train platform is the loneliest place in the world. The deep greyness swept before me and what was left? A whisper from his fingertips and the blur of his face through tears as it disappeared before the bend. My hand held out blankly before my body weakened, as if to meekly demand it to stop.
“I stood there, empty, left behind. I never wanted to be there. What did you feel? Relieved?”
He paused.
“Sad. Sad to be leaving you. Sad to be leaving Paris. For me, you were Paris.”
