doug rr wrote:made it to the airbnb at about 630 this morning...we slept until 1pm..getting ready to hit the streets soon and eat..the apartment is great but its a 4th floor walkup..ugh
Not the worst thing to burn off all the foie gras.
its a favorite..we bought some earlier for the apartment..also bought a sampler box of sardines..just having a Jameson now at the apartment before we head out for dinner and then try to catch the bronco game at 10pm
Carl Sandburg wrote:There is a wolf in me . . . fangs pointed for tearing gashes . . . a red tongue for raw meat . . . and the hot lapping of blood—I keep this wolf because the wilderness gave it to me and the wilderness will not let it go.
There is a fox in me . . . a silver-gray fox . . . I sniff and guess . . . I pick things out of the wind and air . . . I nose in the dark night and take sleepers and eat them and hide the feathers . . . I circle and loop and double-cross.
There is a hog in me . . . a snout and a belly . . . a machinery for eating and grunting . . . a machinery for sleeping satisfied in the sun—I got this too from the wilderness and the wilderness will not let it go.
There is a fish in me . . . I know I came from salt-blue water-gates . . . I scurried with shoals of herring . . . I blew waterspouts with porpoises . . . before land was . . . before the water went down . . . before Noah . . . before the first chapter of Genesis.
There is a baboon in me . . . clambering-clawed . . . dog-faced . . . yawping a galoot's hunger . . . hairy under the armpits . . . here are the hawk-eyed hankering men . . . here are the blonde and blue-eyed women . . . here they hide curled asleep waiting . . . ready to snarl and kill . . . ready to sing and give milk . . . waiting—I keep the baboon because the wilderness says so.
There is an eagle in me and a mockingbird . . . and the eagle flies among the Rocky Mountains of my dreams and fights among the Sierra crags of what I want . . . and the mockingbird warbles in the early forenoon before the dew is gone, warbles in the underbrush of my Chattanoogas of hope, gushes over the blue Ozark foothills of my wishes—And I got the eagle and the mockingbird from the wilderness.
O, I got a zoo, I got a menagerie, inside my ribs, under my bony head, under my red-valve heart—and I got something else: it is a man-child heart, a woman-child heart: it is a father and mother and lover: it came from God-Knows-Where: it is going to God-Knows-Where—For I am the keeper of the zoo: I say yes and no: I sing and kill and work: I am a pal of the world: I came from the wilderness.
Last edited by tragabigzanda on Tue January 13, 2026 8:45 pm, edited 1 time in total.
doug rr wrote:its a favorite..we bought some earlier for the apartment..also bought a sampler box of sardines..just having a Jameson now at the apartment before we head out for dinner and then try to catch the bronco game at 10pm
Le Comptoir de Gastronomie is filled to the brim with it. When we couldn’t get in earlier in our trip, we went across the street to Lézard Cafe and had some. My wife, who’s had plenty due to work dinners, said it was the best she’s had. Just north of The Louvre if you’re in that area.
not on that level usually; but Paris does have an elevated level of explosive middle eastern v. west angst relative to other 'western' places
so just keep your wits about you if you see certain people, in particular groups of youths
avoid them
All posts by this account, even those referencing real things, are entirely fictional and are for entertainment purposes only; i.e. very low-quality entertainment. These may contain coarse language and due to their content should not be viewed by anyone
All posts by this account, even those referencing real things, are entirely fictional and are for entertainment purposes only; i.e. very low-quality entertainment. These may contain coarse language and due to their content should not be viewed by anyone
96up is being weird. Paris felt safer than any American city. Sure, the edgier parts may be trouble, but I don’t think anyone visiting for a holiday is hanging around there.
Since it’s offseason, the pesky street peddler stuff seemed way toned down too.
Carl Sandburg wrote:There is a wolf in me . . . fangs pointed for tearing gashes . . . a red tongue for raw meat . . . and the hot lapping of blood—I keep this wolf because the wilderness gave it to me and the wilderness will not let it go.
There is a fox in me . . . a silver-gray fox . . . I sniff and guess . . . I pick things out of the wind and air . . . I nose in the dark night and take sleepers and eat them and hide the feathers . . . I circle and loop and double-cross.
There is a hog in me . . . a snout and a belly . . . a machinery for eating and grunting . . . a machinery for sleeping satisfied in the sun—I got this too from the wilderness and the wilderness will not let it go.
There is a fish in me . . . I know I came from salt-blue water-gates . . . I scurried with shoals of herring . . . I blew waterspouts with porpoises . . . before land was . . . before the water went down . . . before Noah . . . before the first chapter of Genesis.
There is a baboon in me . . . clambering-clawed . . . dog-faced . . . yawping a galoot's hunger . . . hairy under the armpits . . . here are the hawk-eyed hankering men . . . here are the blonde and blue-eyed women . . . here they hide curled asleep waiting . . . ready to snarl and kill . . . ready to sing and give milk . . . waiting—I keep the baboon because the wilderness says so.
There is an eagle in me and a mockingbird . . . and the eagle flies among the Rocky Mountains of my dreams and fights among the Sierra crags of what I want . . . and the mockingbird warbles in the early forenoon before the dew is gone, warbles in the underbrush of my Chattanoogas of hope, gushes over the blue Ozark foothills of my wishes—And I got the eagle and the mockingbird from the wilderness.
O, I got a zoo, I got a menagerie, inside my ribs, under my bony head, under my red-valve heart—and I got something else: it is a man-child heart, a woman-child heart: it is a father and mother and lover: it came from God-Knows-Where: it is going to God-Knows-Where—For I am the keeper of the zoo: I say yes and no: I sing and kill and work: I am a pal of the world: I came from the wilderness.
Last edited by tragabigzanda on Tue January 13, 2026 8:45 pm, edited 1 time in total.
we had like 4 or 5 people text us today about the hammer guy and I'm thinking we all live in the US where there are multiple mass shootings everyday yet they are worried about a guy with a hammer...ha
doug rr wrote:we had like 4 or 5 people text us today about the hammer guy and I'm thinking we all live in the US where there are multiple mass shootings everyday yet they are worried about a guy with a hammer...ha
Maybe if Parisians all carried guns, no one would be dying from hammer attacks.
doug rr wrote:we had like 4 or 5 people text us today about the hammer guy and I'm thinking we all live in the US where there are multiple mass shootings everyday yet they are worried about a guy with a hammer...ha
Maybe if Parisians all carried guns, no one would be dying from hammer attacks.
do they carry baguettes and cigs?
96583UP wrote:i recently bought travel-size packets of metamucil
