The last three weeks have been a seemingly endless series of welcome parties, get-togethers, receptions, meet-and-greets and cocktail parties - every kind of cheesy or ostentatious soirée my Grandmère can throw together, she’s dragged me to. It’s hard to match her energy.

“You have to meet people,” she insists, “and they have to meet YOU.”
“And why?” I asked, eloquently, but there’s no use resisting - she’s tireless.

The Prime Minister of France - met him. The mayor of Paris, met him, the CEOs of Paribas, L’Oréal, TotalEnergies, AXA, met them, the ministers of the economy, interior and foreign affairs - met ‘em. The US ambassador to France, met him.

In the play “My Fair Lady,” Eliza, meeting people frantically at the races, repeats “How do you do,” over and over and over to great comedic effect. That’s how I feel at these parties, “Enchanté, enchanté, enchanté, enchanté, enchanté.” I say, turning in circles. I’ve met Emmanuel Macron before, but I’m sure I’ll be seeing him again soon. I haven’t met his wife though - I’d love to ask her about that slap.. hhmm.

At these events she’s made sure that I’ve met anyone who’s anyone at Université Paris Cité. Is that surprising? No, because that’s how crazy-lady operates. “You meet everyone, eye-to-eye,” she lectures, “you have to get out of your bubble, and experience the world as interesting,”

That’s her favorite saying these days. “I don’t HAVE a bubble,” I replied, defensively, but she’s left the room - she’s never still. She seems to know we’re on the clock, that once med-school starts, (in September) I’m going to be all about that.

It’s Monday morning. I’ve been at the Shangri-La hotel pool, where we have full privileges, and I’m coated, like a potato, head to foot, with SPF 50 sunscreen - when who shows up?
Peter (my bf). “You’re early!” I say, not at all displeased, but I’m SO conscious of my tacky skin and chemical smell that I face-palm him as he comes in for a snog.
EEuuww. I can’t make-out with a guy when I’m all greased up.
“5 minutes,” I assured him, heading for the shower.
“I’ll join you,” he offered.
“Well, ok,” I chuckle.
.
.
Songs for this:
Better Days by NEIKED, Mae Muller & Polo G
This Girl by Kungs & Cookin' On 3 Burners
Cake By The Ocean by DNCE  [E]

I’ve spent the last couple of weeks in Paris settling in. My every appliance, gadget and charger have been bricked by the weird, French electricity, which bobs when it should weave or something - but you still can’t stick a fork in the sockets.

I’ve also been meandering the right bank* arrondissements for fashions. Students at Université Paris Cité, in the everyday, dress more chicly and elegantly than Yalies or nerdy Harvard ‘barneys.’

I’ve noticed a lot of Asian, selfie-taking tourists in Paris. They come in like waves of invaders as the river-cruises dock. Now, anyone that’s known me for some time, will tell you that my friends and I’ve been taking selfies for decades.

Just not in the middle of the street or with total strangers trying to relax on crisp, cool, early summer morning, while sipping an espresso hangover cure. Was COVID deadly? Well, it certainly killed off the last etiquettes that separated us from the animals.

I’m not anti-tourist - nope -  I just moved back here myself - but these smiling, terribly polite, middle-aged people, think nothing of stopping someone abruptly in the street to ask directions, in a foreign language - as if they’re at Tokyo-Disneyland where the locals are cast members simulating real life.

Would you expect anyone on a busy, work-a-day Manhattan street to happily stop and converse? Not a chance. Women would recoil like snakes and the men would dodge like O.J Simpson or shoulder you to the ground. Still, they call Parisians rude.

I am becoming more serpentine and evasive as I shop, as-if I were a spy in occupied territory. Charles and I form a one-man phalanx, with me following in his wake, like a dolphin trailing along a great ship.

They may need to put up signage, like, “Look (at the locals) but don’t touch,” but in what language?

Let’s wax free-versely… freever-ishly?

It’s a pleasure to walk the banks
of the dark, reflective Saine again.
and watch the warm, evenings for
the first cool stirrings of fall.

Once you’ve visited Paris, it stays with you.
Nothing’s simple here, not the moonlight,
the serene european atmosphere or
the better-than-you sense of right and wrong.

I’m young in a very old city.
I like dessert crawls, and “rock’n’roll clubs.”
Hemingway wrote, that
‘‘You receive in return what you bring to Paris.’

That’s probably not an exact quote.
but I think that’s where they got “What happens in Vegas.”
.
.
Songs for this:
Come to Me by Koop
Leena by Caravan Palace
Right Now by The Creatures

Think about the hubba-hubba
Dancing on the sheets
Clean sheets lose grip
Quickly find my sock it to her cleats

Digging in, trying to reach the bottom
Only to just scruff up the sides
Even after all that pumping and *******
And the candy-apple moustache rides

My gun is old, it only shoots once
Foreplay is like my favorite thing
When it’s serious business, I like to play
I can do everything without getting in

I like it when we both finish strong
I did it all, like in my wildest dream
Hold on tight for one more minute
Oh, wait, I just creamed

P.S. this piece is still kind of raw
I should have used some slick words
That’s ok, it all turned up good
I got ***** and she chopped some wood

I’m a working man, I’m licensed
Working with all three of my vices
Ones got a grip, the other a squeeze
That last one gets me down to my knees

At 14 I learned to like the buzz
Trip out wildly, watch out for the fuzz
I never shot up, only smoked and blew my nose
Forget all the highs, felt all the lows

Now I know better, what can I say
All the things I let make me that way
Should’ve known back then it was a mistake
Remember that when you dance at my wake

Googled a bit, man I feel smarter
Spray can painting, operation of a lumber yarder
It showed everything, from shopping to the Walmart farter
How to be you, where to use cream of tarter

Google is so smart, it always answers back
Even us old folks don’t mind giving it a wack
Once we learn to point and click enough
We can actually remember a whole lots of stuff

Google got pictures, more shopping and life advice
All at our fingertips, isn’t that so nice
If you don’t get it, you can always ask twice
AI tightens its grip, now we’re in a smart vice

Google me this and search for all that
Sit in your chair and research why your fat
Learn to tie your shoes, how to wear a hat
Check out funny videos of some **** cat

Google didn’t help Papa talk to his friends
He didn’t need cell phones, dots and dashes he sends
Mamaw never used it to know how to make ends
Now we just all believe, whatever posts then trends

p.s. I” HAVE TO” use it all the time, that’s why I can write (*****) about it.

I’ve met a couple of second-year med students.
I thought I was organized but apparently, I’ve just scratched the surface.
Everyone uses Google calendar “GCal” - for EVERYTHING,
and I’ve seen it, their days are packed - bye-bye ‘free time.’

Want to grab lunch, hang-out or even hook-up with someone?
Check their GCal and send them an invite.

(poem time!)..

GCal flex 💻✨

I got the word 💬 At first 🎬 I was lowkey sus 🤨
could it be thus ⁉️ but they offered proof 💯

GCal 💻 runs 🏃🏼‍♀️‍➡️the superiority complex 🏫
everyone keeps-it-g 💻✨connectedly 👭

AI puts our schedule 📆🕰️ in GCal 💻 form,
so right away ⛗ 🏁, we’re ½ 🌓 way home 🏠

The typical school day = 12 hrs 📅
Save your brain, let GCal 💻✨be 🐝 the boss 🧠➡️💤

Sleep 😴, snacks 🍕, 5-mi walk 🚶♀️— got it on lock 🔒
No wingin’ it 🚫, just colored blocks ⬛️ all on the clock 🕒

So, freshie AV 👩🎓 will get a ping 📱— “Come chill?” 🛋️
I’ll click yes ✔️, cause it’s just the drill 🔬

“Share lunch?” 🍽️ Invite sent ✉️
Netflix and chill 🍿? Event alert! 🚨

Invite a romantic move 💌 “Hook up?” 11:30 PM 🪛🌙
You never ♾️ know, he 💁‍♂️/she 💁‍♀️ might accept 🔩 ☔

Maybe GCal  💻 love is 💔 or lit 🔥, but dating’s doomed 💀,
in the calculus of m-school scheduling 🗓️🙅♀️, so just move 🚛 on

In med-school ​​📚, we’re like a team 🖇️, we need to be tight 🗜️,
we’re all 👥 on the clock ⏰, and nothing 🫙 can be left to chance 🎲.
.
.
Songs for this:
Closer (feat. Halsey) by The Chainsmokers
I Ain't Worried by OneRepublic
Levitating (feat. DaBaby) by Dua Lipa
Calendar by Paris Combo

let’s get *****
naked long and lanky
use our hanky panky
do the stanky stanky
here’s a hanky hanky
and thanky thanky

Lately,
my husband has been bothering me—
a lot.

He’s always moving,
in bed,
on the couch,
never still.

It irritates me.
But I’ve realized—
moving
is something the living do.

Which tells me
I’m more dead
than alive.