this is aaronland


I Hate Everything, The Musical

This is what I know.

By which I mean to say : Rock on.

Je me souviens

This was a blog post I started in July of 2007 after a marathon two-week work-and-play trip to Paris, London and Montreal. I never finished the blog post and only discovered it again hiding in the comments, in 2013. Here is it, then, lightly edited for dramatic effect because this is the story I want to remember.

I want to remember eating alone at the ... six years later I have no idea where I ate, that night.

I want to remember forgetting that you have to dial 001 instead of 01 to reach an American number and because I was given a local number one-digit short and because the DHCP server at the hotel wouldn't give me an IP address I want to remember having no idea of The Drama that was unfolding, that night.

I want to remember walking back to the Opera from the 2nd in the rain wearing the leather shoes I bought on my first trip to Rome and which would still be wet in the morning. Those shoes would finally see their end, a few years later, on an Oakland evening when I stepped off the BART on my way to a fancy restaurant and one of the heels simply fell off.

I want to remember walking up rue Cler and texting Julie, who knows everything about Paris, to ask after a reliable Internet cafe.

I want to remember the soul-sucking chain, on rue St. Dominque, that Karl told us always had wireless proving to be as barren as the over-heated American coffee they sold to expats living abroad.

I want to remember sitting on the cobblestones looking at the number of open networks with variations on the name Pompidou and wondering how many were simply phishing for passwords.

I want to remember deploying the site from the courtyard of the Pompidou.

I want to remember walking around the 14th missing all of Simon's phone calls before the SIM card I'd neglected to add money to in the 7th finally died.

I want to remember the other people who'd obviously seen the article in the New York Times and ordering lunch, not knowing whether Simon would ever arrive.

I want to remember that steak.

I want to remember the smell of all that cheese I'd carried around the city since morning opening up in the train as we passed under the English Channel.