Quitte.

So much has happened.

It just sounds better when I tell the stories. I won't be writing them all down.

Paris in two days.

I'm reading a book in french. It's not a novel by any means. But lets face it, I feel cooler reading it in public. It is a series of letters. Which reminds me.

The other day I found a book that is just a collection of break up letters. One of the letters just read 'je te quitte'. Translated literally it pretty much means I quit you. But I think it's supposed to mean I'm leaving you. Quitter = to leave. But it looks too much like quit. I'm rambling.


Anna and I bought french gossip magazines at the train station today. Annas magazine had FOUR pages devoted to nipple slips. Mena Suvari has the largest nipples of any celebrity by far.

I sun burnt my boobs.

And.

Eurpope really needs to fall out of love with mgmt.

I met a spanish woman in Marseille and we listened to Bob Dylan and Joan Baez together. She had never heard of Sam Cooke. I'm a missionary for soul music. Spreading the good word.