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Marseille is a little big town. It has the feel of Cocoa Beach and the public transportation of Atlanta. At the top of the hill, you can see the whole town from Julien Court. In Julien Court every shopfront comes standard with a mural. The place is all painted up, and the result is that fantasy and reality get confused. I will live here some day.
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Smack dab in the middle of the action at Julien is a big water fountain with jets and crazy kids keeping the water flowing. There are ganksters in one corner, artists in another, some locals, and one or two gentrifiers. The ganksters would like to be gangsters, but they just rob peeps. Watch the guy on the moped take a look at my camera before trying to gank it during this alive report from Marseille (big AVI, wait for download). The reason the place is relatively empty is because that day was a French bank holiday. Yet another reason to live in France.
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| Check out some of the cracked out toys the doped up kids were playing with in this video (big AVI, wait a minute for download). |
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Nice had great water and rocky beaches.
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There were lots of people who got lost from the Spring Break tour. One cool lady though had on a spiral bikini top (girl on the left) to tan her boobs with a hypnotic spiral. She said she was a showgirl for a cabaret.
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The museum of modern art in Nice was at times incomprehensible. I did meet one nice piece of African art with whom I stood on my head.
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This piece makes me think of how when the arms and legs focus on a routine task, the mind slaloms between longings and passions.
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From the top of the art museum, the town looks quiet, and I look stupid. I don't need to live in the country, just somewhere high that overlooks everything. I need that.
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What better to do when in a foreign country than to go with a fellow American to an American pub that plays American music. I really did like hearing the rasta'ish singer switch from singing as a perfect Kurdt Cobaine to taunting the audience in perfect French.
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This is Sam. She came with me to the pub. She did fashion stuff in NY, and worked for Epic Records pushing publicity. She matched me drink for drink at 2/3 my body weight, and I only had to pick her up off the ground one time.
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Every landscape artist should live in Italy. I only saw it from the train. It was dark almost the entire 12 hours I was there.
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Since I didn't have much time in Milan, I thought I'd better get right down to business. I ate a serious Italian meal; authentic except for the Irish company.
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Shivaughn and her friend stole all the candy from the hotel.
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Don't worry Chivon (ala Cambridge), this Shivaughn is a fake Irish one, and you are the only Chiv for me.
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Hamberg is centered around a huge lake and a tiny girl named Conny.
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We checked out a Pakistani restaurant. The lighting was dim enough to hide anyone's ugly face and just bright enough to allow you to see the general direction of the person you're talking to without seeing their body shape. Perfect for the fat and pimple faced. I will keep this in mind for future dates.
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Putting your eyeballs on the table top whisks you to a world of giants. Remember this if you ever need to write about helplessness or trying to overthrow a 2 party system; it will sooth and inspire.
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Trains trains trains. So stable and sure with a one track mind.
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But the people on them know the world. One girl from St. Petersberg playing in some famous orchestra or other taught me some sewing techniques after failing miserably at hiding her laughter. Mostly I slept, arriving in Amsterdam juiced up and ready for some funk.
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