327 days left (but probably less)

Dear friends,

This adventure may come to an end sooner than expected, as it is on the brink of the death that I am writing what may be my very last post. When I moved back to Louveciennes, I thought I would easily accustom to the harsh climate of the Parisian suburbs. Having lived there once, couldn’t it be done again? I plainly believed it would be rejuvenating. I imagined myself enjoying the fresh air, maybe learning to breathe again, maybe running naked in the forest, arms reaching for the sky, singing songs only sparrows and Thoreau would understand.

But nature knows kindness not. Weakened by a hectic and fluorescent Parisian night, my body did not withstand returning to this cold and windy land. The first symptoms of what I recon to be an incurable disease where diagnosed last night. Shivers at first. Sensations of cold, of heat, and of cold again. By morning, I barely had the strength to talk to the village healer who came to my bed. And as he left the room, I could tell by the despair in his eyes I had very little time left to live.

Dear friends, Louveciennes has defeated me, but I leave this world with neither regrets nor sorrow. It has been an honor to fight this battle with the wild, and to fight it till death parted us.

Suburbanly yours,

Alex

329 days left

I’ve had a lot of unusual stuff happen to me while going out: falling asleep on a speaker in a club, being face-nut by a rottweiler named Tupac, near death experiencing while walking by -20 degrees across a forest and a frozen lake (true story), being arrested for laughing too hard (also a true story, at least from my standpoint). And I’ve seen even more amazing stuff happen to friends of mine.

Now, the reason why we gladly recall these stories is that in the end, they all turned out with no one being (significantly) harmed. And the reason for that is that most of us follow a simple yet golden rule: if a drunken friend of yours disappears in the middle of the night, odds being it isn’t because he’s scored, you don’t assume he’s doing fine, you go and look for him. Sometimes, this means you’re gonna have to walk away from a great party or prematurely terminate what could have ended up being a passionate and meaningful love story. Whether it’s because you care for your friends or simply because you don’t want to be the one left to die in the cold the day you’re the one in need, you never abandon the sheep astray.

That’s how I was saved from near-death while walking in a frozen forest or from spending the night locked up for having laughed too hard (I swear that’s how it happened). That also how I saved a “good” “friend” of mine from certain death a little more than a year ago. I was in an awesome party when I discovered he had disappeared. Odds were he hadn’t scored, so I left the club. I stumbled upon him a few meters away, half unconscious, lying in a ditch, in a state it wouldn’t be decent to describe. I tried putting him in a cab but soon realized no decent taxi driver would accept to transport such hazardous merchandise. Having but one option left, I called those who appreciate laughter not. That’s how my “good” “friend” was safely brought home in an ambulance instead of spending the night in a ditch.

Unfortunately, this “good” “friend” seems not to recall this incident and did not consider necessary to return the favor when I potentially was in a tremendous amount of danger a few weeks ago. I’m a gentleman and will therefore not give away his name. However, if you ever see a drunk guy in Paris begging for help, saying his name is Fleurent Beuilly or anything that sounds alike, leave him to rot, will you?

336 days left

Sorry for not posting so much lately, but keeping a blog can me somewhat of hassle, and the past few days I just haven’t been in the mood. It’s not that I haven’t come over interesting enough blog material. That I have. I just couldn’t get my head straight and write anything down.

My problem is that I sometimes suffer from what some eminent psychoanalysts refer as the “fuck-it” syndrome. When a normal human being shows signs of anxiety, panic and sometimes confuse over-activity when in a situation of stress due to an important workload or a difficult situation, the person suffering from the “fuck-it” syndrome will react by either: watching TV-shows, watching profiles on social-networks or googling random words. Even-though it makes him feel bad, he can’t really do anything about it. It becomes a drug. And with the advent of facebooks and high quality video-streaming, what used to be marijuana has become heroin. You can stay high on it for days…

Well, for the past few days, it’s been hard enough to fend of that craving for inaction during the day. At night, giving in to watching the next episode of “The Wire”, “How I Met Your Mother”, or “Prison Break” was just unavoidable. Hence the little time for writing posts…

341 days left

Do you remember how I once told you I would keep you posted if I ever discovered anything usefull about life? Well, I haven’t, but I did come up with some cunning thoughts about dreams, commitment and celibacy.

First of all, one must know that every boy who grows up into a man does it for only two reasons: the first is because he has been told by his parents that once a grown up he’d be able to indulge himself with that huge flat screen TV he keeps asking for Christmas; the second is because he secretly believes that one day, probably when he’ll be 20ish, scoring will become much easier. And the great thing about growing up is that these two dreams actually come true (well, especially the first one).

Unfortunately, once they have come true, we (guys) are at loose ends. That’s how so many of us are subdued to committed relationships (i.e. the second reason why girls grow up into women*). The most valorous, however, fend off these indecent proposals and keep feeding on random hookups and one night stands, striving for survival in a hostile environment of engagements, marriages, and moving-in-togethers. As parties turn into afterworks and afterworks into casual dinners between couples, the life of the celibate becomes every bit more difficult. The lifestyle becomes tedious to defend and perilous to maintain: you’re like an Amish dropped in Manhattan, alone, secluded, preaching values that no one understands, let alone relates to. Yet, it’s a battle worth being fought. For what kind of man gives up his childhood dreams and enslaves to the ones of others? No decent man I tell you.

*the first reason is not decent blog material

342 days left

Can you picture that feeling when you’re about to say something stupid, something you know it would be best for you not to say, and yet you say it anyway? For some reason your brain has already processed the “I’m going to say this even though I shouldn’t” information and there’s no way back?

A classic example would be when you’re walking through the cashier of a cafeteria, just after having paid for your lunch, as the cashier mechanically snaps you a “bon appetit” before switching to his next customer. The one thing you know about the guy is that he’s working, so he's probably not about to have lunch. There’s absolutely no reason for you to answer “you too”. Yet somehow, there's a split second when you’re both fully aware of that and conscious that you’re going to say it anyway. And you say it anyway.

Another great example features a friend of mine (who I shall henceforward call Bob for confidentiality purposes) and a girl we know (who I shall henceforward call Berta for I-don’t-remember-her-name purposes). Berta is not so slim a girl. Bob is not so shrewd a guy. And, as Berta enters a room carrying an enormous sports bag, Bob knows he’s about to say just the wrong thing before he loudly articulates: “Jeez Berta, that’s a really big bag you’re carrying; it’s almost as big as you are”. Bob knows he has unwillingly offended not-so-slim Berta, so his brain races to find a way to clear his mess. Unfortunately, the same feeling of powerlessness strikes him just before he adds “I mean it’s really huge!”. Poor Berta…

Why am I telling you this? Well, because this is how I sometimes feel about this experience. I know I’m doing something stupid, and yet, somehow, there’s absolutely no way for me to stop doing it. I’m the guy about to answer “bon appetit” to the cafeteria’s cashier. I’m Bob about to compare the impressive size of Berta’s bag to the equally impressive size of Berta. I know I probably shouldn’t be doing this, and yet I’m doing it anyway…

348 days left

Congratulations. You have just reached the « 365 days experience blog », the most unreachable blog on the web. I’ve indeed realized that for some reason googling “the 365 days experience” (even with quotes) won’t get you here anymore. It took me 10 minutes to figure out a way to reach my own blog.

I have to admit I first felt offended by google’s engine explicit lack of interest for my content. In fact, I felt terrified. Was I no more worthy of a link? Was it because I had moved back from Paris to my home town? Did going back to Louveciennes not only mean the extinction of my social life but also that of my virtual subsistence? Was it time for me to abandon my laptop and migrate to a secluded shack in the forest? I was horrified. Had I lowered to the level of Henry David Thoreau*?

But I was wrong. I was just seeing things from the wrong angle. This blog has now become the very privileged rendez-vous point of a few “connoisseurs”. And that feels great, doesn’t it? Who said positive thinking could only get you so far? Well, just so you know, I’m not betraying my blog just because google lost faith in it, although I might switch it to Wordpress sometime, but I’ll let you know when that day comes. Btw, I changed the commentary parameters so anyone can post comments (Peggy, Baptiste, si vous m’entendez…)

*American “philosopher”. Also known as the man who wrote a very long book about how great his experience of living an autonomous life in the forest was, when he was actually camping in a friend’s garden and having his mom do his laundry on weekends.

349 days left

I have very little inspiration tonight (concerning this blog of course, not from a general standpoint, as I am always inspired), so I thought I’d just share a few great quotes from Oscar Wilde.

“An idea that is not dangerous is unworthy of being called an idea at all.”

“Life is simply a mauvais quart d'heure made up of exquisite moments.”

“One can always be kind to people about whom one cares nothing.”

“Faithfulness is to the emotional life what consistency is to the life of the intellect, simply a confession of failure.”

“A cigarette is the perfect type of a perfect pleasure. It is exquisite, and it leaves one unsatisfied. What more can one want ?”

“Those who are faithful know only the trivial side of love ; it is the faithless who know love's tragedies.”

“I am always astonishing myself. It is the only thing that makes life worth living.”

“What is a cynic ? A man who knows the price of everything, and the value of nothing.”

“The first duty in life is to be as artificial as possible. What the second duty is no one has as yet discovered.”