The cup resting in front of me was cheaper then usual for the small, bitter-free, super strong espresso. Clear skies with just enough cloud activity to draw some contrast. Etta James is signing about summertime supported by Louis Armstrong's horn work. I thought it would be chilly due to the early nature of the day, but the need for a jacket was lost in my first step out of the door. No new European scarf either, which I did want to show off. It is a beautiful day and a great time to write.
I am waiting leisurely for the right moment to arise and achieve a new look through a much needed haircut. My only hesitation, well I suppose two hesitations, are the language barrier and the spanish girl I met last night. I know how to say short and long, but it stops there so I don't know how wonderful of an experience this will be. A silly and less important worry is of Eileen remembering what I look like. I am taking an awful lot off the top, but then again my air will still be red and I will be one of seven that exist in France. I should be okay... worries set at ease.
Speaking of the Spanish Angel, her eyes were more amazing than I had seen in quite a while. Tan skin and almost glowing blue eyes. Think the Chronicles of Riddick mixed with a baby bunny rabbit. Her French was limited, English even worse, but my Spanish perked up when given the proper motivation. After some time passed and I bought her a drink (thank god it was beer because cocktails are damn expensive and I was running on coins) there wasn't much need for talking anyways. Relationship potential is limited, but another sort of arrangement could be in the cards. She is here for a year studying, a masters in something... who the hell knows. It was in Spanish so I just nodded yes. Another reason for the lack of love is the fake name I used all night. Luckily I failed to mention the night's fake occupation as a movie producer of questionable character. Sorry Dad, at least I didn't pretend to be an actor.
The morning after text is a difficult one to write. Sure, you need to believe that she remembers you, but you can't go without distinguishing remarks. Have to make it personal and not a mass message for poontang recon. Side note: Is it acceptable to drink beer with your breakfast? Because that is what is happening at two tables surrounding me. Back to business... whether or not she answers me the night was still a success in my book. I snagged the attention of one of the cutest girls in the bar, which happens to be a crowded, young, and attractive bar. Go me!
I needed this as well, seeing as how my two most promising prospects in Lyon went and got boyfriends. I need to act quicker in France... fuck me! Do you think Spanish girls are any different? Part of me hopes so but the other part needs to learn the survival tactics of this continent asap. Just got checked out by a 12 year old... weird. Please don't do this. I feel bad enough talking to 18 year olds at CEFAM, which has convinced me that 20 or older is going to be my definite limit. I may be overreacting but I cannot deal with these tiny little French girls. Well, on the plus side, I don't get checked out by guys (Sorry Cory, sucks for you). Cory got winked at last night by a guy wearing a pink cowboy hate complete with a light up dildo hanging off the front... there's France for ya.
Another interesting weekend, a few steps further towards the fork in the road that splits at Love and Insanity.
Peace and Love from Lyon,
Scott Stephen Smith
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