January 11, 1984 Paris - Journal

Another rough day and night, as I pulled out of the Hotel Louisiane to stay at Jeffery Kime's small service room off the Grand Boulevard. Two heavy bags of clothing, books, boots, a typewriter, and Aiwa cassette deck. I thought about walking to Rue D'Aze, but my bags were too heavy. The hotel staff said nothing at my departure, even though I had stayed there a month.They see so many people come and go. I'll find a less expensive hotel after my return from Boston. The taxi ride across the Seine from St. Germain to the more working class Third Arrondissement cost 50 Francs. Not much, since I earn 600francs a night atthe Balajo, le Royal Lieu, and the Cafe de Paris in London.

Jeffery's gone off to London to do commercial voice-overs. No one is in his flat. They key was under the mat. The small maid's room is cold and the one window overlooking the rooftops is cold but has a space heater. I lay on the bed and lustento music from Radio Nova, Actuel's radio station. Pkaying everything from jazz to African to Bossa Nova to punk. Everything never heard on American radio. Every station in the US only plays what they are told to play.

Not much day left, as Paris approaches the winter solstice.I go out to get a cheapeal at Le Chartier across from Le Palce disco. The shops on Rue De Mobtmatre are open for business unlike when I come for a few last drinks at to le Privilege under the disco. After midnight only the crepe stand on the boulevard is open. Still is now. I have 5000 Francs saved for my trip to the States. I haven't been back since last year. My family in Boston and friends in New York are waiting for me. I'll buy gifts for my mother and sisters. Perfume and scarves. I've yet to buy myself anything. Maybe a suit from Agnes B since I get a discount there thanks to Jean Tuitou, who works there. Not much, but as my Nana said or so I remember it was her, "It's one thing to be broke, but it's another to look it.

I enter the Chartier, nod to the maitre de. He knows me from my year at Les Bains-Douches. Not friendly, just correct. A master of hod trade. This expansive restaurant has been serving the working classes since the turn the the century. I order rosst bif et pommes de terre. A carafe of wine. All for under thirty francs. Paris has so much to love and this place is a time capsule to another time resisting the changes outside its walls. I love the countless drawers on the walls housing diners' own silverware. I've seen anyone open one, but maybe one day, if I live here long enough.