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rue-madame's Diaryland Diary


Quand la musique est bonne, bonne, bonne

It's so amazing being reunited with all of my music.

As you know, I am incapable of filling out the "My Favorite Bands" and "My Favorite Authors" etc sections of my diary because I cannot commit my preferences indelibly to writing. I went through a million changes before I moved to Paris, trying to distill 200 cds to 5. And now that I have all of them at my disposal it's like an embarassment of choice. (That's a French expression that I just Englished)

The funny thing is, now that I am stateside, I have been loyally listening to Metropolis, a sort of international house/dance/techno show on KCRW. I don't *really* like this style of music, but I have been tuning in out of nostalgia for France. What a complete retard I am becoming. So maudlin in my old age! They play Daft Punk and I get a little misty-eyed. I have also been listening to a college station that on Monday evenings has a classical program that focuses on ballet music. The other evening I bourréd and fouettéd all over the house to Swan Lake, The Nutcracker, Romeo and Juliet (Prokofiev is a genius) then I did a little mazurka during the village scene of Coppelia. I'm sure the neighbor downstairs is learning to hate me.

Since this is a music entry, I should mention that the other night I saw Momus and Stereo Total. The music was great, and the best part was just as we were all walking in to the concert area at The Knitting Factory, the djs put on some Komeda. My most favorite Swedish band of all time! There is no way you can listen to Komeda music and not start dancing like Snoopy. That's what I always play when I'm in a foul mood or slithering into some kind of self-pitying depression. Then after the show, a friend of ours was dj'ing (actually it was Alex the Rock Star) at the Burgundy Room on Cahuenga so we went over there, and it SUCKED! I had forgotten that there is a whole bridge-and-tunnel vibe to Saturday nights in Hollywood, and bridge-and-tunnel means loud, shitty heavy metal and lots of tacky animal print. Bridge-and-tunnel, by the way, is a universal; they have it in France, too, and it is known as La Racaille. Alex the Rock Star was originally playing cool stuff at the Burgundy Room, but then people starting throwing shit at the dj area so he had to lower the bar and play Music for Neanderthals. Then we went and peeked in the Beauty Bar which was filled to capacity with lame people checking eachother out. At least there was better music there (The White Stripes.) Instead of throwing money away on over-priced drinks in a crap atmosphere, we all retired to my apartment for 20 questions and refreshing vodka tonics.

Mmmm, vodka tonics. Those are so delicious with fresh lime. I usually prefer Ketel 1 over the other brands, but a tonic made with Absolut Citron is tasty too. Typical cocktails are one of the things I missed in Paris. The French are a wine and sometimes-beer people, with stronger drinks—digestifs—offered after dinner. There is a trend for all things pseudo Caribbean and Latin American which means that you can go to your corner cafe or brasserie and order a caipirinha or a mojito, but ask for a plain ole vodka tonic and you get the funkiest drink known to Man. There were times where I would have killed for a girly, sweet sidecar or a bracing gimlet but settled for "un punch" or a Martini Rouge. In all fairness, I have to say that the Café de L’Industrie on the corner of the rue Saint Sabin and the rue Sedaine concocts a truly delicious caipirinha, and not too expensive. The truth of the matter is that there are tremendous differences between the American concept of a pre-dinner cocktail and the French concept of a pre-dinner apéritif. The cocktail is meant to be a strong, head-clearing drink while the apéritif is mild and meant to excite—not deaden— the palate. There is also a general belief in France that extra cold things and extra hot things mask the true flavors of whatever it is you are putting on your tongue. While I generally subscribe to this view (example: cheese tastes way better at room temperature) I really like ice cubes in my soda.. Of course, smarty pants Terence always points out that this nutty French thing about extreme temperature is completely bogus since the French regularly annihilate their tastebuds by smoking pack after pack of cigarettes.

Does it sound like all I've been doing is hanging out, drinking, listening to music, leading an empty and debauched life? Well, I kind of have, and it's been lovely. I need to start working soon, if for no other reason than I need to upgrade my eye cream and the good shit is expensive. These late nights have done a number on my dark circles, and my Caudalie cream isn't cutting it anymore. If anyone out there has any recommendations, please send 'em in. I would like to make an informed, uninfluenced-by-beauty-counter-salespeople-mumbo-jumbo decision soon.

PS: The new Beulah album "The Coast is Never Clear" is so fucking brilliant, I can't stop listening to it. A pop gem.

10:24 a.m. - 2001-11-22



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