Quiet Monday Night

Last night I went to dinner with Charlie at a place called Cafe Cafe. Well, he called it that but I have a feeling that isn't the real name...? I'll have to get it from him because it was great place. Delicious, cheap food by the Etienne Marcel metro.

Charlie told me lots of scandalous stories topped by a UFO story. I've never been told so convincingly of a UFO. Well, I've never actually known anyone who's seen one. Until Charlie.

He also gave me THE DIRT on a few artists I find interesting. It was better than Perez.

This morning, the terrible weather worsened. It is freezing cold here and the wet weather made me leave my bike at home.

After class, Terese (yay! after school chum!) and I went down the street to the Bon Marche. We were starving so we stopped in at le Grande Epicerie first (which is actually attached, duh!) and ate the biggest, most delicious (and cheapest?!) sandwiches in Paris, possibly on Earth (to qualify, the sandwich would have to fully adhere to all three elements). It was so perfect (and huge), I may never have to eat again.

Now I'm spending a quiet Monday night in, writing (but secretly wanting to stop and devour my book) and listening to Chris' records. I just listened to Bob Dylan's Slow Train Coming so many times it was making me laugh. Now I'm on The Platters and because the apartment has darkened since first sitting down at my desk, I'm feeling like a creepy shut-in. This is the introductory scene in the movie where you get a glimpse of the person who DID IT. I gotta go turn on a light or something.