Il fait si chaud que j’ai l’impression d’être à Cow-Lanta
October has came really early this year, and my walks to work are rather unpleasant under the cold rain of these two last days.
Anyway, not only my muscles ache, but it seems I have strained my optical nerve rolling my eyes too often while listening to two incredibly stupid podcasts, the first one with mystical royalists obsessed by Joan of Arc (“the Kingdom of France, etc.”, “Free-masons governing the country, etc., ”I only worship really obscure saints that you have never heard of, etc.“, ”you know, my really prestigious ancestor did, etc.“….), the second one with some leftist stuck in the Seventies talking about his new noir novel about the dictatorships in South America (“Her mother was tortured by the police while pregnant, so the girl was in utero tortured”…). For podcasts I normally like, this was really painful.
Bike to work 2016-05-21 under the searing Swiss Sun. About 17 km in under fifty minutes (I need to charge my GPS to be more precise). Sweaty, hot, hills, a few flies swallowed.
I was biking (and baking under the hot sun of the afternoon – yeah, I know, I complain when it’s raining, I complain when it’s sunny, I have a very specific ideal weather which is very rare where I’m leaving : dry cold+sunny, but I digress) from work, and for some reason, I remembered that little clip from François Girard’s Thirty-Two Short Films About Glenn Gould, a movie I saw when I was still a teenager and influenced me a lot, especialy the Leaving part. I think it’s truely speaking to my heavily analogic personality, and explain probably my taste for tacky, old American cars (that radiator grill ! the dieselpunk turning signals ! the folding shutter over the lights !). Anyway, if you don’t care about my sense of aesthetic, you will enjoy this Sarabande from Bach’s Suite française -No. 1.
Glad that you came home alive!
Oh well, if only I had looked in my secondary bag, I would have found not only my pull-over, but also a light rain jacket, both things that would have been perfect to avoid getting drenched… But in defense of my levity, I’ve had the perfect weather when I went biking to work ; the storm waited five minutes only before the end of my shift to begin.
I’ve made it. I’m wetter than a 40 year old obese mum at the Edward Cullen shirtless look-alike contest of a Twillight convention, and colder than a dead polar bear stuck in the freezer of an arctic scientific base, but I’ve made it. So apparently that god looking out for dumb people is not only real and but rather effective.
A lost business card in the woods.
Reward after a lot of muscle and tendons straining sport
Volk on the Wild Side
Going back home, saying hello to lost cows.