Pecos

Pecos came to visit me. ALLL the way from Felton. Not even from Santa Cruz.We got to talk about Monty's and JB's. Floating in the river in Henry Cowell. Smoking pot in the redwoods. Felton stuff. He came in from Dallas like a bat outta hell, and hit the ground running like a trooper. I scooped his ass up from CDG and hurried him back to Antony, expecting to pour his tired ass into bed. He had a number of bleary eyed smiles before he crashed, one when an accordion player struck up a bellow-y tune that folded around his receptive ears on the metro, and anoter when we stepped into the first (of many) bakeries to buy his first Parisian baguette. He was on his own for the three remaining days of the week when I had class, spent it sleeping, going to the Louvre, and going to the Louvre, in that order, and each event taking up all the time the sun was in the sky. The first day, he put his French to the test, braving the Parisians on their own turf- a cafe. Ordering a latte, he was served a tea (for you non french speakers, "le the"-"the tea"- sounds eerily close to latte). He (regretfully, I think) was convinced into spending ample hours in the Louvre, but really perked up on our visit to the modern art museum, le Centre Pompidou, a museum that I liken to the way I feel about Chuck E Cheese or the Yellow Submarine, I like it, I find it to be incredibly curious, and sometimes it makes me feel a little strange. We sat on cushions in a re-created 1950's style tv room and watched video installations of people dressed like pyramids ski down mountain sides. We both adored it. We hit up the Dali museum too, since Picasso was closed for unexplained reasons and the Musee D'Orsay seemed to me to be too similar to the Louvre. A photo now exists of us inside the nail of a thumb sculpted by the mustached fiend himself. We sat on the banks of the Seine and got drunk off good champagne. We walked though marketplaces, parks, hip neighborhoods and cobblestone streets. We ate cheese that smelled like feet. We saw Rodrigo y Gabriela at l'Olympia. We dodged schoolchildren at the aquarium. We stood before the Eiffel Tower and listened to music in the Virgin Megastore on the Champs Elysee. He taught a bartender how to make a snake bite and I ordered us tarte aux pommes. We had an ok time, I guess. Oh, and Happy Birthday, Pecos.