Amyl Nitrate Werewolf

Paris, I have arrived. A mere 13 hours on 2 planes and I am in the land of stinky cheese and (occasionally) stinky people. I have lots of French friends, all of which smell rather pleasant, but I was behind someone in line at customs this morning who quite literally smelled like something dead. It was that rotting, festering smell of sweat and feces that takes months buried underground to achieve. Maybe he was the undead. Who's really to say? So, it's back to the high stakes world of international travel for me.
















I saw this in Dallas today, where I had a brief layover (and also, coincidentally where they have never heard of the New York Times). It looks ironically similar to an Interpol record cover from many years ago. I think that they should have used this one to add intrigue. Nothing says gloom like a guy in a pink shirt.















My first flight was over without incident (if you call watching 'Music and Lyrics' without incident. It made me need to poop or haver a Mogwai 'danger wank' to cleanse the pallate). The 2nd, and longer of the two was a breeze. I had the entire middle row to myself. For a guy of my stature that means that I can stretch out quite comfortably. The guy across the aisle suggested that we share the row before takeoff. Seeing as I alreday had all of the space that I needed, and couldn't see the addition of a hulking, 350 lb man adding any more legroom, I declined. Actually I said 'yeah...I don't really think so.' He got confused and left me alone.















I managed to get through 3/4s of the new Palahniuk book, Rant. It's really good. Better than his last book or two, I think. It seems to mostly be about a guy spreading rabies to epidemic proportions due to his way with women. Here's a quote: "Mistakes like kissing Buster, most times it's a worst mistake if you don't make them. After a good-looking boy gives you rabies two, three times, you'll settle down and marry somebody less exciting for the rest of your life." The man's got a way with words. So, I landed in Paris this morning. It took 2 hours, due to traffic, to make it from the airport to my soundproof suite. Everything was all blurry, green and grey outside.















Which, I learned, was a total contrast to my big, bloodshot eye.

















It's another strange room with a big, foreign bed for me to sleep in.
















I wonder what happens when you push this button. If it helps, it's in the bathroom. I think a marching band might pop out of the broom closet.



















The hotel was nice enough to leave me complimentary water (which is nice since I feel as though I have just spent 40 days and nights in a desert), chocolate and...cologne (?) Unfortunately it's a musky aroma not unlike diesel fuel crossed with the wrong end of a rhino. Maybe I'll bathe in it tomorrow, just for kicks.