Written in the dark without glasses :

Back to NYC for a few days. My treat to myself for finishing my dissertation. After three  days without sleep, I got to the airport and met a friend right at the gate: no sleep during the ten hours of the trip either. i am staying with my dear Anna in the hip west village. 2nd avenue deli for dinner, nails and toes polished, and Regina Spektor- magical as usual- at the Radio city hall were on the menu on the first evening which finished with amazing whisky at the plazza, listening to a friend of anna sing. Woke up early the morning after to work in a cyber caé, back to morningside heights, the movie “an education” (not bad at all), and raun and cold, as awful as i could remmeber it from new-york.

James and katrin met us at anna’s place, and then it was difficult to find a dry and warm place to eat. Slept like a log, work friday morning, and suddenly an terrible pain in the toe. I couldnt wear a shoe and would literaly drag my leg behind me, walking barefoot in the Whitney (great Goergia o’Keeffe), and the mOMa ‘I had missed Ron arad in Paris, and his bookshelves are warm to my hreat. A movie to give some rest to my foot : excellent brother cohen”s serious man, depicting the suburban jewish milieu, where they grew up), and then but of course, opéra : der Rosenkavalier with renée flemming and susan graham.

My friends were starving so we stayed the first act (my favourite). Diner at the hummus place, a walk and a drink in the meat packing and to bed early, always warrying my leg. Saturday, the pain was so string i wanted to scream; Sneakers. Anna came up with a  diagnosis : gout. I think she’s right. All the symptoms are there, but not the causes (too much proteins, wine, or … stress – that’s more probable). It is an old man’s disease. (to me : the grandpa of the little lord fauntleroy) I would laugh aout it if it would no hurt so bad, and if medical care would be a little less ridiculously expensive, so I could get healed. For now, ibuprophe make sit bearable, less of a limp, and even high heals to go out yesterday at a polish/jewish encounter and then a bar were the pain and the the champagne put me to sleep right there, sitting with my friends…

today basketball game in mad square gardens, and before brunch, i am starving

Heavy sunny day in Paris, even hotter than in St-Tropez, where I spent a long week-end. That kind of day when I feel I am only water, relieved both from my body and my brain. From St Tropez, there is nothing to write home about, maybe because home was there near the swimming pool with my family, and when I felt harassed by social events  and thought I would  soon get back to my real life, I still did not really know if my real life was in Paris… The good thing is that I got so tanned, that I look dirty. But no sociological report this year 1) because everyone (outside of my warm family and my brother’s friends) acted the way they were expected to, and I coped gracefully (or tried to) with evelasting empty conversation about quantity 2) because I did nor reached the local laboratories, meaning the clubs. I fell from my high heels on the floor along the harbor a busy 15th of august night ; the sight of the overdressed vulgar crowd provoked the strongest panic attac and my brother was kind enough to drive me home, where I stayed alone. The good news is that swimming naked under the stars at midnight with loud Bach for half an hour is way more efficient than any pill. And really mystical. Finally, I am a woman of modest taste…

Back to Paris and to work I had quite a busy day today, with an interview for a real and interesting job this morning and a old fashionned date tonight. A perfect day to settle, isn’t it? Well in both cases I played it low key…The interview was very interesting and I would really be good at the job, so we’ll se… And because I am not a woman without contradictions, I really enjoyed the anglo-saxon date, maybe because the joys of following rules are not without charms (I prooved exactly the contrary while I was in New York, see the post here)?  Maybe because I met someone real?  Who knows? In any case, I liked being taken seriously even if it means both risking not seing the interesting guy again and too much reflexion for good sex. And there is something so innocent in talking about yours aspirations, asking about the other’s expectations, and holding hands, and saying goodbye we’ll think of date 2… and that’s it. Or maybe I am too cool for school, or too hurt for dirt. Anyways, before really getting serious about any kind of future I have to finish giving birth . I’ll start writing part III tomorrow. In the meantime, both “lite” and heavy choices feel like poisonned figs.