Sunday, April 5, 2009

Like Jennica Green

This book I'm reading, Maynard and Jennica, by Rudolph Delson is hilariously funny. Typical New York humor I think, a bit about a Jewish guy, a girl, and The Whole Thing about New York lifestyle-
The Cat Scene: When Arnie gave the kitten to Jennica

Recently I've been going to jardin du Luxembourg incessantly over three days in a row. I could not get enough of it's flowing tulips, green perfectly manicured lawn, The Palace all in the open and green chaise loungey chairs that are so unbelieveable comfey.

On pg. 119, I found something totally unexpected! Jennica's description of her life in New York when she was 22y/0, reads like this...

" when you move to New York (in my case Paris) when you're twenty-two years old (I'm 23). And you favourite pastime is walking through downtown alone....You're subletting....a room with furniture with no windows (I've got a big window) in an expensive neighborhood, and you own exactly one pair of blue jeans and one black cotton T-shirt, that don't make you feel ugly, but you've never been so inspired. All the flowers shops, all the drop-off laundries! ...and you invest all of your attention in reading about the city. And you museum newsletter...And you're always how many weeks behind on telephoning your friends? But you sit in a cafe off of 2nd Avenue and write them messages on the backs of the weird free postcards that you got from the dirty rack by the cafe's bathroom..."

So to continue, I don't know what's funnier, reading my life story in a second-hand soft paperback that I got from Shakespeare & Co. bookshop for 4euro or the fact that some imaginary character has actually been through a similar experience. Ha-Ha-Ha.

I did found the book in an old pile, and as I've said before in an older post I picked up the book only because of its interesting cover. Whether or not I will like the book is not a big matter for me, I'd happily lay it around the room just to remind of me Potato Head.

Place Saint-Germain des Pres where an artist exhibits his artworks all weekends. He would quickly packed them when the rain pours in and when it stops, he patiently hand them up again, one by one.

And it's true, I brought only one blue pair of jeans, one black t-shirt that I know will look good on any bad Paris. And there is nothing as beautiful as seeing fresh flowers on a bad day.

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