An American (couch potato) in Paris
The best American television shows on French TV (in no particular order):
1. Highlander
2. Magnum P.I.
3. Starsky and Hutch
4. Fall Guy
5. Knight Rider
6. Buffy
7. Angel
8. Dragnet
9. The Simpsons (on multiple channels)
10. Grey’s Anatomy
I really appreciate the ability to watch my favorite 70s action series in French. I’m hoping next i’ll discover The Rockford Files or Remington Steele.
Reentering the Territory
My first day back to the territory - this image pretty much sums it up (Marina, hand bloodied from a fruitless search for who-knows-what in the cave, chaining Sergio to his chair [photo courtesy of Katie Brockman]).
I knew, when I returned from my long stay in California, the Territory would be a changed beast. My first clue that this assumption was correct: a new walkie-talkie greeting me at the door. Katie let me in, informing me that Sergio had thought I was the new “systematizer/multi-tasker,” Simone when he viewed the top of my head through the surveillance camera at the gate. So he and Marina were beautifully surprised when I poked my little face through the studio door. They both flashed me lovely, warm, genuine smiles and I felt happy to be home. We sat down to a cup of tea and caught up on the happenings. Apparently, it has been an eventful month for the Territory, with much rearranging of both furniture and people. Of course, I expected this.
The Territory is always the same because nothing is ever the same. Its consistency lies in its malleability; its constantly shifting, malformed, bestial little body. I’ve become familiar with this body and returning to find it in a changed form was only natural.
So, sitting nicely with our tea, Sergio briefly recounted the happenings of the last month: his right arm no longer works so he must draw with his left, Katie has taken over as his apprentice, Marina is renewed after a visit from her mother, prayers to St. Theresa have been pinned to the walls (bear in mind that his painting is a Hillary/Theresa mash-up), and evil spirits are living in the photo studio - so we need an exorcism.
Strangely, the state of the Territory resonates with my own inner-space and an exorcism doesn’t sound half bad.
Where I’m Coming From: a return to the California gold country
Well, I spent my holiday in the land of dial-up internet and so was unable to update my blog as I would have liked. I of course returned home to California for the holiday for a lovely visit and to take in some local flavor. Despite what you may have heard, not everyone surfs in California. In fact, I come from a town that probably is more akin to rural middle America in many ways than the sea side settlements of SoCal. We had a farm on the high school campus, one coffee shop on the main street, and an affection for the town’s history as the gold mining capital of California. We often lovingly refer to one of its 19th century names, “Old Hangtown” or “Dry Diggin’s,” but now it is simply called Placerville. So while Paris was being reconstructed by Baron Haussemann, Placervillians were building brothels, taverns, and gallows all to support the booming gold rush. As you can see from my pictures, things haven’t changed much:
