Wilma's Webworld

Ségolène and Spit

So you might have heard there's a presidential election going on here. I must admit I'm a little caught up in it. This poster is up all over my Parisian neighborhoods. It's a kind of variation on Julie Andrews: "The walls are alive, with Ségolène..." As I've been toodling along on my bike, I've found myself going a little soft over it, in a way that might not be so far off from the effects that old Sound of Music saw still has on my belly. And this is after an initial period of great hostility towards Madame Royal. Six months ago, I was amusing people at dinner parties by saying that if I ran into Ségolène on the street, I wouldn't hesitate to spit on her. That's because I considered her a symbol of the treason of what to long along little me was a Socialist paradise that played conterpart to my Reagan governed hell. I mean, in some ways, I ended up here because Mittérand was president for such a long time.

Leonard Cohen

Well, I'm obviously easily distracted today, but so long as it brings me to things like this, I think that's probably just fine. Look at how that chorus emerges from the wood/stonework and just stands there, with a minimally 80's sway. (Unlike their clothes which are maximally 80's). Look at the way LC turns around and faces his backup singers while they sing. And don't miss the moment of caesura, around 3:46, where he turns around and they fall silent. It’s enough to break your heart, or to remind you of just how, along what precise and lovable fault-line, it's already broken.

Patti still wants to write a book

Well, this was a lovely and resonant way to procrastinate still further the late start to my workaday.

Enjoy.

Phrases after Berlin

Here’s a little taste of Berlin, already fading (watch my wrist sweep up to my forehead in despair!). We had a lot of fun.

 I listened to Panda Bear upon our return to our pad after the big night out. It brought out tears that needed to be shed. Though there was no sobbing. I stayed pretty much on their edge. And that, on a sunny Easter morning that was supposed to be rainy, was lovely, especially because there were singular people that I miss who were in the mix, too.

Nouvelle Star: Do I quit watching now?

OK, I have a whole weekend in Berlin for this to get my head around, but I don't even know how to begin doing that for this format. It sure was fun, though, but I think it was more than that, too. Monstrous fun, no doubt, but I'll try and quit boring you with that one.

But I did just want to say for whatever anglophone reader who crosses this page and lives in France and just watched the extremely tragique cut to 10 from 13 on La Nouvelle Star: aren't you just a little bit PISSED OFF?! And doesn't it scare you that in this country of France, which is just getting ready to have presidential elections, ALL FOUR of the candidates who were not chosen by the paying texto-sending customers of the show were people of color?!?! One of them sang like shit tonight, but each of the three others was fucking fantastic. The jury got to save one of the candidates. And I'm a faggot who likes Marianne James, as I said before, but now I'm also a non-voting citizen of some yet to be defined place that likes her, too, since she fucking called the French racist to their noses. "Funny how much color we have on the faces of these brilliant singers." Or something to that effect. She also mocked the television station that pays her: the show's hostess kept telling the jury to hurry up, and MJ's comment was "What, for some commercials? It's not like you're getting ready to broadcast any Marguerite Duras." I love MJ. But, boy, I sure am disturbed about the idea of living under a quasi-fascist in a country with a television public that votes like they did tonight. Titi thinks that the jury, who had given high ratings to three of the people left out by the public, should just up and quit. That could do that, or they could inflict live  and violent non-physical punishment next week on candidates who didn't deserve to make the cut. That would make for better spectacle, for sure.

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Monstrosity is what isn't represented - it just shows.