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Requiem pour une conne

It is pouring down rain again, another one of those insane summer storms that make me cringe because I am a total parano about my computer. I should probably keep this brief in case there’s some cuckoo power surge in the Parisian grid. If you saw how ad-hoc the electrical systems are in these older than dirt buildings over here, you too would unplug everything at the sight of lightning.

But before the crazy weather, I went to the Buttes-Chaumont. It is a park in the 19e that used be a stone quarry so it sits in a hole, and I am too tired to describe it! Plus I now have a good excuse to unplug the box: I’m having drinks with Jacquot, possibly the most high-strung, spaz-o-matic, Speedy Gonzales-like French guy. And he has a car! So we won’t get very wet.

Before I sign off, though. . . Yesterday I wrote “Je suis con” which prompted a guestbook signature related to French usage. So briefly here, I will sort of explain why it is that used “con” instead of “conne.”

Con is a noun, so therefore je (female, as it is moi) suis con is perfectly correct. However, people make it an adjective—elle est conne—which is just, I think, a popular neologism because con is a masculine noun. According to l'encyclopedie Larousse “c'est une conne,” “elle est con” are both proper

Je suis con, je suis conne, je suis un con, une conne, whatever—all of them describe my behavior pre-lunch yesterday.

8:09 p.m. - 2001-07-26

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