Tuesday, 11 December 2012

Hip Hop and The Trick

Let's go back a few days, to the Friday before last.

What do you mean, why?

Don't be a bore darling, just pop back in time with me for a moment. I want to show you something...

Me and Georgie, waving to each other across the road at Place de Clichy, after not seeing each other for about four months. She was wearing her pink coat with wedge boots and a black furry Russian hat, just to give you a clearer picture. (I was probably wearing something stained, with a pair of holey leggings.)

Sometimes, when people who have left Paris come back for a visit, they instantly slip back into their old Parisian selves and it feels as if I've gone back in time, back to when that person still lived here and was a permanent fixture in my life in Paris.

But with Georgie, it didn't really feel as if she still lived here... Perhaps because we used to spend so much time in her lovely little apartment, whereas this time around she was staying with friends, running round the city collecting boxes she left here over the summer. (She left SO MUCH stuff here, it makes me wonder how the hell I am ever going to move all my shit back to England.) I couldn't believe that we weren't going back to her apartment for a cosy dinner, followed by tea-drinking and a tarot card reading.

Even though she stands by her decision to move back to London, Georgie she still had a marvelous weekend in Paris, as did I- I know I said this in my last post, but Paris really has got its mojo back.

On Friday we went to Le Bal for lunch- a photography gallery and cafe just round the corner from Place de Clichy. 

There was a Paul Graham exposition on and I really recommend it, I don't know if it was just because I was walking around the exposition with Georgie who is a photographer, but I felt like I really engaged with the photographs, in a way that- oh, sorry! Just read on the website that the Paul Graham expo finished two days ago, so you can't go and see it. No point in boring you with my musings on the artist's early 'Beyond Caring' project then...

I suppose you wouldn't want to know how, in my opinion, Graham manages to capture boredom without creating a boring image, or how tiny details spark huge questions, or how I found myself looking at the photos and creating stories for the subjects and, in some cases, for people who aren't even in the photo? (The poster of a horse looking ridiculously out of place in a grimy dole office, for example. Who put the poster on the wall? Did they really think it would cheer the place up?)

No?

Well that's a shame, because I had lots and lots of very profound, interesting things to say on the exposition and now you will never know what they are. You'll just have to take my word for it.

Kayt joined us for lunch in the adjacent cafe. We'd forgotten how bloody expensive it is, but by the time we were seated we were starving and couldn't be bothered going anywhere else. Normally they do a 'soup and tart' formula for twelve euros, but that had sold out by the time we ordered, so we ended up paying eighteen euros for two courses. The food was really good though- I would definitely recommend it if you are feeling flush or having an indulgent weekend break here.

That evening I had no concrete plans and on my way home from work Ruth invited me to her flat for pre-drinks, even though nobody was sure where the actual drinking would be.

As we drank, I told Ruth and her two Italian friends about the 'Kill Off Any Guy Who Isn't Interested In Me Trick': Basically, if you text a boy and he ignores you, instead of letting the rejection damage your self esteem beyond repair, you agree with your group of girls that the boy has 'died'. Think about it, you can't be embarrassed because he's dead. He's not sat at home sniggering to himself and thinking 'What a dickhead, texting me when I am clearly not interested', because he's DEAD. Bad news for his family, good news for your self esteem!

(If anyone is reading this thinking 'Golly gosh, I would never doubt myself like that, just because somebody I don't even know wasn't attracted to me', all I can say is that you were probably born with Posh Girl Confidence which as we all know, is not something that can be learnt or bought, so leave me alone to dwell in my insecurities.)

I think it was Amy who started the 'Kill Off Any Guy Who Isn't Interested In Me Trick' and I am now trying to spread the word.

Ruth and her friends agreed it was an excellent idea. We were talking about being single (not Ruth, she has a boyfriend) and I told them about the guy from Le Mizmiz who 'reminded' me of Drake. I explained how I had recently started taking people's numbers (remember Biblical Barman?) and then, after the initial, drunken triumph has subsided, I wonder why I bothered: I am clearly never going to do anything with the number, I just keep it on my phone and look at it every once in a while. I'm like a scaly, old dragon who lies on a hoard of gold for hundreds of years; she has no intention of ever spending the gold, she just wants it for the sake of it.

Anyway, Ruth and her friends pointed out that I should text Mizmiz Man because I had nothing to lose- if he didn't text back, it was because he had died, so I needn't feel embarrassed.  When I say that Ruth and her friends 'pointed out that I should text him', perhaps I mean to say that I got my phone out and started yelling 'Shall I just text him, shall I just text him?' and they all shrugged noncommittally.

In any case, I sent him a text to say that I was drinking in Menilmontant and asked him what he was up to that evening. If you think that sounds a bit direct, you should know that in France it is not uncommon for a boy to send a text that simply says: Tu fais quoi ce soir?

I know this from all my many, many, MANY dates with beautiful, charming, successful French boys, of course.

Hang on, no, sorry, I'm doing that thing again... You know, that thing. What's it called?

Lying, that's it.

In the end, we decided to go to a free hip hop night at La Villette Enchantée. We met more of Ruth's pals and chums at Point Ephémère, as well as Georgie and Louvre Laura (not to be confused with Laura from Glasgow, who left Paris last year, sob) then Kayt finished babysitting so she came and met us at the metro station. It was the BIGGEST group of people I've been out with in Paris for a long time.

The hip hop night was not exactly what we were expecting- it was live M.Cs, rather than DJs playing hip hop. (Actually, it was just how I imagined Paris would be before I moved here, for Some Reason I thought I would be listening to live French rappers all the time.)

When the rappers had finished, they did have a DJ who played hip hop we could dance to, but by that time Ruth and most of her friends had left. It ended up being just me and Kayt. We stayed til about 4am and then we decided to go home, because I had to go to my au pair job in the morning. Ugh.

It wasn't a massive night, but it was fun, especially because there was such a big group of us. Although... I must say, I'm afraid I was being an atrocious dickhead all night. I was being really loud and obnoxious and the next day I had The Fear really badly. Me and Kayt got a taxi home and I told Kayt that I was in love with the taxi driver.

"I just love people who can take me places... In taxis, buses, metros, coaches... and bicycles." 

This is why I need to cut down on my drinking.

I can't remember what happened at work the next day, but as soon as I got home I slept for about a million years and then me and B went to Katapult... yey! 

I've just finished blogging about Katapult and it's the longest post ever, so I'm going to copy it into another blog post...

By the way, Georgie always introduces me to new music. Since visit two weeks ago, me and Kayt have been loving LV's new album 'Sebenza':


No comments:

Post a Comment