I just finished watching Being John Malkovich, which leaves me wondering (naturally)... is the blogger's autobiographical tribute to self in some ways a small version of John Malkovich's leap into his own psyche, Ego bombarded with ego? Thomas Thomas Thomas. Yikes. And, it also makes me wonder about how the real John Malkovich came to terms with playing himself as himself and as different characters playing himself. Quelle mise en abyme (if you don't know what this phrase means, please ask Prof. Glacet and he'd be more than glad to explain this several times and no doubt, the importance of trains).

On another note, I am anticipating an interesting rendez-vous (meeting, not date) tomorrow. On a whim I decided to look through one of the French equivalents of Craig's List (no, not for a date) for a lamp. While my apartment is imbibed with sunlight during the day, the little skylights on my roof fade into utter darkness at night and my ability to see what I'm reading is reduced to the electric wattage of one single bulb, covered by a swirly half moon of frosted, greenish glass. So you can imagine why I would be interested in getting a lamp.

And oh what a lamp it will be! It's base is the quintessential French clown, known throughout the lands as "Pierrot;" he's always sad and wearing the same ole body swallowing ones-y in white. This one looks like he's playing the lute with his eyes closed, what talent! It's shade is fringe-lined and seems dusty, even from the picture. I'm excited about taking this lamp out of the hands of its owner, but I'm also thrilled by the thought of who those hands are attached to- someone I nothing about, androgenously named "danie" (according to the website), aiming to get rid of this ridiculous lamp, and willing to meet me at outside the cathedral tomorrow at midday for an exchange of goods.

When talking about the process of getting settled in to my apartment, I'm reminded of how it is when you're introduced to people. And besides, I like to consider my apartment more of an entity than a lifeless mass of bricks and wood and concrete. As with humans, in which there are always little quirks that reveal themselves within a few days after the initial excitement of meeting, my apartment too has some irritating qualities when it lets its guard down. 3 things in particular come to mind: orgasms, cold water, and pigeons.

The first started sometime last night in that semi-dream delerium of Tylenol p.m. There's no telling how long they were at it, but it did go on for a while. Long enough for me to think she had to be faking some of those times. Thank god I had taken sleeping pills, because I did manage to go back to sleep after that interlude of breath, screams, and a few whispered demands.

The next explains why I've been spending most of today nude. I was trying to do the responsible thing and actually bathe today, but the hot water just wasn't working. I guess the hot water heater hadn't been used for months and was hesitant to start suddenly working for me. So I tried all kinds of things, leaving the water run for a long time, turning it off, flipping some electrical switches, all while wildly cussing out the cold water. But, nothing worked and I'm not known for being patient, so I plunged in after all, even tried some French cuss words, but ultimately took a cold splashy bath.

Now for the pigeons. There is a flock of pigeons who reside just outside the main window of my studio. They like to hang out under this window, flirting and mostly shitting on a condemned passageway that used to link this side of the apartment with the other side. Pigeons are sick, and they make odd throaty coos. They're even annoying when they leave-that blasted flutter of their filthy wings. But don't get me wrong, I still love my apartment, and these quirks can probably be overcome. After hours of the switch being turned up, I actually got my hot water to work, it hopefully won't be too long before I make my own noises on this side of the wall, and surely there's a pigeon repellent of some sort...

Oh, and A texted me last night, thanking me and apologizing too. He said he was sorry for how he acted, he had been stressed at work, and he said my present was "magnifique"-I included a drawing of his balcony view on the back of my thank you note. So I think that made amends, I do need to give him his keys.

So 2 nights ago, the day I signed my lease, something very uncomfortable happened. It all started when...A comes home from work, says he'll be eating dinner in town with a girl tonight, then promptly scampers off, like a nervous meercat. I say "Bon soiree," shrugg my shoulders and continue washing the dishes. I then try to meet up with 2 friends in town, which doesn't work out, no phone and too late. But, those luckies end up spotting A on his date- their response being a friendly wave, his being hmmm I'll look at their shoes and hope we don't make eye contact. Apparently, he had been pointing at things and talking to her as they walked down a busy street.

Later on, around 10 when I was fiddling with my stuff and luggage, A bursts in the door with his date. First of all he doesn't introduce us, we all just say hi "salut, salut, salut." Then he makes his way to the balcony with the alternate, less direct route through his bedroom. I guess he was trying to get her in the mood. Though, I don't think she fell for it cause I could hear them talking on the balcony within seconds. At this point I feel stuck- do I interrupt a moment of wooing and say bye, do I just leave, do I stay? Before I make a decision, he's already passed through his room (again, in obvious avoidance of me) and out the door with her, without saying anything, not even bye, fuck you... nothing. What's going on? Is he going to her place, are they going on a walk hoping I'll leave, what? So, I leave after they leave and spend the night at my new apartment. It's convenient that the day I started moving out he started dating this girl, a girl named Christmas (Noel) of all things. Haha.

Needless to say, I've been mostly at my apartment since then, though at this very moment I'm at his apartment, getting the last huge baggage I have, and probably saying goodbye to the internet for a while. I'm leaving him a bottle of strong liquor that he likes, it even comes with a little glass. I thought about some condoms as a joke, but, considering his reactions to everything else, I'm not. And I'll write him a nice note, thanking him for letting me stay, showing me around, all that. And I got a phone this morning, so I'll leave him a number too, in case he wants to move on from the awkward moment we experienced together.

Anyway last night I went to see Inglorious bastards, a mix of cringe and laugh, I really liked it.

O and how do I put photos on here?

So...catching up. Yesterday for example I ran into Elisa and 2 other Sewanee folk while I was in a phone place with a Jamaican girl I work with! I'm sure I'll be seeing her often when I actually move in my place and have a phone. Also, this past weekend I went to St. Nazaire with A, some of his friends and 2 other lectrices. It was so beautiful and I only got slightly sunburned for once in my life. And unlike I expected, I only saw one pair of overly tanned, exposed boobs and a mere handful of old hairy men in the exact same black and bulging speedo. Which reminds me, the weather here is mainly cloudless with some clouds and wind every now and then. But today was especially hot, (31 degrees C whatever that is in US..) so its good that I brought plenty of skirts to run all over town in, making inconsistent signatures on official documents.

I got some frustrating paperwork done today, like buying insurance, which is necessary to get the keys to my apart tomorrow. And then some more signatures here and there back and forth between the fac and centre ville. Oh the fac is what French people refer to as their university; conveniently it sounds like fuck. Also, an older, sage, American lectrice (who happens to have exactly the same name as me minus the ie part)'s explained what I signed up for at the bank, since I wasn't really listening when I opened an account. It actually ended up being 2, one a savings and I still don't know when my debit card and checkbook will magically become a part of my daily life. She also gave me some other really good advice about the carte de sejour I'll have to get, well, arrange an appointment for, really soon. And she gave me some insight about phone packages and stuff. I'm thinking I might get one that comes with an internet and television plan, because lately I've been watching tv with A-a good way to break silence-and also really good for learning French. Lots of the shows are dubbed American, like Desperate Housewives, CSI, NYPD blue?, Alf, etc. Well, I'm ti-ti as fac, gonna take a short rest before dinner with A then cheap wine with other co-workers.

Love at first sight-found an apartment after much grievance and rejection! It's in the center part of Nantes too- right by a medieval cathedral (so I can pretend to be Quasimodo...or Esmeralda) and near all the bars and restaurants. I'm thinking there is definitely a ghost there too, from the looks of the building's stale and pealing Victorian entrance and winding stone stairwell. But the room itself is very cabin-like and cute, kind of like a little girl's playroom. Thank god it has a bed, a toilet, a little kitchen, and a bath tub, even some windows. Those are some important qualities. The location is it's best though.

Phewewfff. That's a relief. While it is comfortable in many ways, its also not comfortable to have to bum off of someone's generosity an inevitable time. All I've done for him in return is like all of his cooking. Well, I did buy him an apple tarte from a boulangerie. Not that something that cost me 1 and a half euros is anywhere near what room and board and French conversation and all kinds of other help would ever amount to. In fact, if he hadn't made the phone call I wouldn't have gotten this apartment. Oh yeah, did I mention I don't have a phone yet. I did just set up a bank account which should help me get a phone. It seems like every contract requires about ten forms which then of course also require a pile of other forms. I don't really like forms or understand much of the French words typed on them, but without them I'm kind of useless and definitely homeless.

Today I actually got to start doing some kind of work too. Apparently they get to re-take exams they've failed twice already here. The exam was an article they had to read and take notes on then give an impromptu oral presentation. So that was different. The hardest part was figuring out the grades, which are out of 20. Because perfection is not actually possible in France, 20 is set as an unattainable number kind of just hovering all smugly above the rest, with no actual value or usage in real life. So failing is like under 8, and thats for someone who can't really speak in full sentences, uses wrong verb tenses, and is basically incomprehensible. 16 and 18 are really good. I'm still trying to grasp all this, I don't think it makes much sense, which kind of further proves how it's not a very good system...but we'll see. Also, they literally sign up for these exams with a pen on a sheet of paper, so only some of them sign up, and then only some actually come. There's not much enthusiasm from them either, since these are re-takes or make-ups and they don't pay to go to this school. Very different from a computerized system of dates and exams, and students who show up early and prepared. There is some good from technology after all.