NEEDLING

Listening to Jacques Brel from a CD AMK made for me before leaving Paris. I’m having a little drink thinking about this whole housemate searching business. I’m not backing down, but this means compromise in the near future. That’s fine, I can deal with it, I guess. But it’s been so long since I’ve lived with anybody for any lengths of time. I’ve crashed on friends and strangers’ couches and beds for a night’s visit to several weeks at a time. It’s always been much appreciated, sometimes it’s been awkward, sometimes there was drama, it’s always been rewarding in the sense that I’ve met all kinds of folks that way, and I've gotten to see different places. I've had many people stay at my place in Paris. Sometimes friends, sometimes strangers who just needed a place to crash. It’s been good. Many nights having flaky conversations lost in the drinks. People staying at my place while I’m away, while I’m staying at somebody else’s place. But LIVING with somebody on a rent-lease basis, sharing bills, sharing living space with an agreement, a financial and roof-over-your-head commitment to another, I haven’t done that in more than ten years. It’s scary. A bit like stepping into a time blitz. This probably means I won’t be able to sing along with Brel or Gainsbourg or whoever, somebody like Vian... walk in my shorts, my balls hanging out, glass in hand singing as loud and as off key as I can, the music blasting, the wine bottles rattling, the peanuts roasting. L’insouciance égoïste. Nothing sweeter. Compromises. Uhm... I guess I can deal with it.