The City of Love
Thinking about love and other Drugs
Just thinking about Paris the other day. One of the most immaculate vibes cities ever in history. I found pics in my Camera Roll of when I went there.
Sometimes I think about all the lovers that have been to Paris, and I cry a bit. Not because of all of the lovers—they’ve been there, so they’ve experienced its beauty and resplendency—but for all the lovers that haven’t had a chance to go yet. I think about all the people who will die having not gone to Paris. And if I want to make my eyes really sad I will think about all the GIRLS who will never get the chance to go to Paris. To have their man get down on one knee on the promenade and do him the honor of making them his wife.
It would surprise me if Dua Lipa hasn’t been here before. She should definitely go if she hasn’t. We could stay out at all the brasseries until 11 pm, when the city starts to wind down and I get tired.
France was also involved in some gnarly wars back in the day. I read Wikipedias about the Napoleonic Wars and Assassin’s Creed: Unity before I went so I could study up. If war had broken out while I was visiting, I would know the best vantage points from which to survey the enemy formations, and maybe perform a Leap of Faith. You know, one thing I love about Europeans—they always gave it up to God. They let him know that, whatever tomfoolery they got up to down on this earthly plane, they knew that His Love and His Light was shining down upon them.
This is a pic I snapped of some of the wild shit these white boys would get up to with dead bodies and stuff. This was just under the streets where we were walking, you know? You never really think about death when you are eating Baguettes and fresh pastries on the cobblestone streets. But it’s always lurking—beneath you, around you, Jim Morrison Paris cemetery how to get there paris metro.
Sorry. I forgot to type something because I got distracted watching this entire video.
Something I make sure to tell people to do when they visit Paris, France? Check out the The Louvre. It transliterates to “The Lover” in English. Some of my best moments were at this crazy-ass Pyramid (and the artwork it housed as well).
My boys and I pulled up the La Louvre at 4 a.m. to make sure we could see the Mona Lisa first thing. I wanted to see it before the crowd formed. We sprinted through once the doors opened and got detained by security for turning on the jets. They held us in a back room for a few hours, interrogating us about our birth names and recent purchases, but after a while they let us go. They said, “We’re sorry for the mix-up. But if you sprint now you can still make it.” Now we were cooking with gas. We hauled ass and hoped we would still be the first, but as it turns out, a Bengali family of five had already pulled up. The dad turned to me and smirked. I didn’t even want to see this stupid shit anymore if I wasn’t going to be the first to see it. Fuck this.
Paris is straight up one of the most beautiful cities you could fly to from the continental United States. I wish I could bless every Big Ten alumni in the nation with a Coach ticket on Norwegian Air from Laguardia to Paris. It only makes sense to me. Why is there so much beauty in the world if we can’t share it with dope guys?
It seems to me people these days would rather work on their laptops than travel the world. With bistros in Paris and trattorias in Italy and legit cafes in London, the entire world is calling your name. Copenhagen, Stockholm, Utrecht—the rest of the globe is yours to discover. The suburbs of the Czech Republic, the freeport in Estonia they go to in Tenet, the fifth largest city in Switzerland, Bern. I could keep listing places. These are the only places left in the entire planet for me to discover. I like traveling across the world (Europe) like an explorer. They are safe for me to walk through and I know my stomach won’t hurt if I eat a piece of bread.
Straight up though, you gotta check out Paris if you can. Imagine if you could go to Paris with like Sienna Miller. I bet Lucas Zwirner, son of David Zwirner, proposed to Sienna Miller somewhere on the Champs Elysee. I didn’t go there but I will next time when I come with a girlfriend (or meet one there).
One of my most annoying traits in real life is that I speak extremely bad elementary French, but I’m really obsessed with French accents and pronunciation, so I bust it out every once in a while in conversation, even though I know it’s fucking annoying. I can’t help myself. It’s one of the things about myself that I loathe.
Going to paris with the boys does sound hella tight though. The best shit ever would be to just go to the places other Americans are… and meet other Americans and stuff… and act like being in Paris isn’t a really big deal for you… but it honestly is a really big deal for you…