Diary Notes of an Immigrant

10 Jul

“Dreams used to be the things that made me fall asleep. I’d close my eyes and all’a sudden I’d be navigating the Nautilus, Captain Nemo’s right hand man, swinging the ship away from the murderous maelstrom. The World’s First Eight-Year-Old Submarine Co-Pilot. I’d close my eyes and I’d be marching through the countryside with Renart The Fox, looking for chickens and hens; always aware of the cunning farmer and his trusted double-barrel. Paris didn’t come until much later. But when it did, I went full on with all of it. I walked in old shoes and swung in for a Pastis at the Café des Amateurs on the Rue Moufetard. I haggled with the poivrottes over their hourly prices. Every night I busted into 27 Rue de Fleurus and made a mockery of Stein and Toklas—particularly Gertrude—cursing them for glamorizing and vaulting Picasso instead of the more dynamic, visionary Brancusi. I bumped into a hungry Joyce (Gad, his hands were huge), the strangely constructed William Carlos Williams (Gad, the doc wore a cape) and the rabid Ezra Pound (Gad, he actually foamed at the mouth) walking arm in arm with Fernand Lleger, and from time to time Fitzgerald or Edmund Wilson would stick his nose into my small, cold flat and inquire: “How’s the book coming, young man?” And then I’d drift off to sleep, dreaming of hills like white elephants and old unlucky men and the sea and Pamplona and Gatsby’s Long Island…My America was Dos Passos’ trilogy.

Last night I stood on the edge of the bed for six straight hours, midnight to six, and could think of nothing good. I heard the clock strike twelve times—each time on the hour and again on the half hour, and could muster up nothing. I have no more dreams to help me get through. I have no more faith in anything. It’s quite sad on one hand. And quite right, somehow, on the other.”

–Petru, Slaughterhouse Worker/Aspiring Writer


5 Responses to “Diary Notes of an Immigrant”

  1. daydreams&dandelions 10/07/2008 at 10:24 AM #

    Did you delete a post? I swear I remember a funny personal post on here the other day….. You know I like the personal ones. :)

  2. Erin O'Brien 10/07/2008 at 10:25 AM #

    No where else might I find a post wherein the word “Gad” is used three times today.

  3. Slyboots 10/07/2008 at 11:55 AM #

    I read an interesting article in the Wall Street Journal a day or so ago about Paris back in the day. It basically said that the creative juices for expats have dried up. And it’s too bloody expensive. The new Paris is Buenos Aires. And silver is the new black. Haven’t you heard?

  4. The Dating Guru 10/07/2008 at 12:12 PM #

    “I have no more dreams to help me get through. I have no more faith in anything. It’s quite sad on one hand. And quite right, somehow, on the other.”

    Wow. I am left with such a melancholy feeling, but it’s not unsatisfying.

  5. (S)wine 10/07/2008 at 6:01 PM #

    I am also looking for a place in my daily conversation to-day, into which I can insert “from whence.” And then, of course, there’s my usual: “electronic mail,” “web log,” and “timepiece”.

    Dandy, I don’t remember; I went through my drafts saved on this site and did not spot anything personal lately that was funny.

    Sly, yup. I’ve heard. They have good air quality, too. Pa-dam-pam! Tip yo’ waitstaff.

    The Dating Guru: thanks for visiting and for the nice words.

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