Paris/COVID: January Dark, Light and Defrag

A quiet but cozy Christmas, a euphoric New Year, then January. This candle sums it up for me. Visceral need for a flame braving the night, like novenas and menorahs. Magnetized early am to late pm. Visual of soul, faith, focus, wholeness, hope.

Since January 16th, 6pm curfew. Rushing to reshuffle schedules and habits once again.

Virus variants coming in from the UK and South Africa. No idea when we’ll be vaccinated.

Cloth masks no longer adequate say French scientists, WHO disagrees. CDC says double masks.

New lockdown may be coming, to be announced today or tomorrow. What will the restrictions be this time?

My mom has been in and out of the hospital.

Violence at the US Capitol a few days after New Year’s. Stunned by the extent of rage and bitterness in the US. An impending mental health crisis? I think it’s already here and has been for a while. Echoes of the French Yellow Vests, some of whom vocally plotted to storm the presidential palace in 2018 and do away with Macron. Somewhat muted now due to confinement and curfew. Seems worse in the US because abetted by government officials high and low.

With family on all over the map, I try to see the big picture, compare the narratives, separate real from fake, and understand where it’s all coming from. Banned videos sent by relatives vie for my attention with NYT articles. Everyone has a non-negotiable point of view on something: Abortion, Immigration, LGBTQ issues, The Holocaust, Indigenous rights, Slavery, Human Trafficking, Antifa, Police Brutality, BLM, QAnon, Corruption, Sedition, Guns, Hacking, Foreign Interference, Global Warming, Hoaxes, Vaccines…

How to reconcile the irreconcilable?

Suddenly it smacks me in the face. This is the story of my life. Unbelievably, 100ish years after the Civil War, it was still being fought, through my parents, one from Industrial North one from Deep South, and through me, born on the divide, with an actual blood incompatibility, as if the Mason Dixon line ran though my cells. Defragmentation isn’t just for computers and hard drives. I struggle to defrag every day, mentally, psychologically and emotionally.

So, on January 6th, I chose the original cast film of Hamilton, Act I over the headlines. A bit late to the party of course, but cathartic timing for me. I surrendered to the spectacle of the main character’s survival, ambition, genius, human failings, and tragedy, lifted at last above fatalism by his wife’s generous heart. I was mesmerised by Lin-Manuel Miranda’s wit, melody, rhythm, humor, and scholarship, how the Hamilton story personifies the conception of our country and its misconception due to racial inequities in the lives of our Founding Fathers and their striking sidelining of Founding Mothers. Hip Hop culture meeting American History meeting Broadway, mostly White historical figures played by mostly POC… Hamilton reconciles the seemingly irreconcilable.

The next week, amid photos of DC as a fortified ghost town, I watched it again and continued with Act II. Ordered the CD. Kept the Christmas tree up until the last minute, filled in blanks with Christmas music until January 20th, Inauguration Day. Harris and Biden taking oaths, Gaga belting the anthem, J-Lo doing justice to “This Land is Your Land,” shining Amanda Gorman referencing Hamilton in “The Hill We Climb,” concert, everyday heroes, grace and poise under pressure, flags and fireworks. No one was killed.

Now a second impeachment and an American version of what the French call dialogue de sourds, “deaf dialogue,” people who don’t, can’t, or won’t hear what others are saying.

But also, a beautiful healthy new baby in my family, bright snow, even if just for a few hours a couple of days a week apart, and an only-in-France moment of comic relief: the French Congress voted a bill to preserve the sensory heritage of rural areas. This is a response to a case that opposed country-home-buying-city-folk to a rooster named Maurice that woke them every morning at dawn with its cocorico crowing. Of course this was boiled down in the US press as:

“France passes a law protecting smells”

https://edition.cnn.com/travel/article/france-rural-noise-law-scli-intl/index.html

“Roosters bells and cicadas” are now guaranteed freedom of expression amidst potent country perfumes.

Vive poetry, music, friends, cooking, working out, walking, creative projects, the fruits of our labors and defragmentation…

xxxxx Aliss

Paris/COVID: What now my love?

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Take out survival strategies at local restaurants

Recently, this meme popped up on my FB feed:

“At this point I’m about 97.5% feral and won’t be able to be integrated back into society.”

Yep! Covidophobia or Covidophilia?

Many people I talk to are either refusing to deconfine or dreading the prospect. I admit, I have to force myself to go out even on a beautiful day and I hyperventilate when swarms start forming or people get too close, probably not a great idea right now even with a mask…

I’ve never been a crowd person. Arriving in Paris from US suburbs, with limited big city smarts, I avoided large groups from the get-go, especially on public transportation. Until the day a respectable-looking businessman wagged his limp member at me through his open trench coat when I was sitting at the deserted end of a Metro car, where no one else could see what he was doing. This was horrifying in itself but even worse because his organ resembled a bald, dead turkey neck and I was too young and scared to know what to do. Ever after I chose to surround myself with other humans whenever possible, betting on safety in numbers. I bit the bullet going to work at rush hour, squished between shoulder bags and backpacks. I baked in 2-hour lines 5 deep at Disneyland Paris without complaining  just to see the thrill on my kids’ faces once we got on the ride. Tried out the huge stadiums for concerts, but prefer more intimate venues. Jostled and prodded through countless grocery store check-out single files, I developed ingenious personal space strategies. You see, France is not traditionally a place with the same queuing etiquette as the US, not to mention hygiene (with excesses on both sides I grant you). So for me, social distancing is literally a breath of fresh air. Thank you COVID. Thus far I don’t miss mass transit, but I do miss air travel. How else will I return to the States to see my loved ones there? No way I’m getting on a boat.

Other things I don’t miss: the factory atmosphere of industrialized education, with kids in quadrants of 20-30 (and more), formatted by age, herded along as if on conveyor belts with productivity  quotas and evaluations administered by too few overwhelmed adults, and little one-to-one attention. As long as we’re starting over, how about getting rid of factory farms?

Things I’m glad to “get back” to: recycling and composting, street cleaning. Things I can’t wait to experience again: cafés and restaurants, museums, open parks and swimming facilities (but what will they be like?). For info, the Mayor of Paris is installing the fresh water swimming area on our canal (will it be mobbed?)

Will I miss the cheek-brushing French air smooch it took me so long to get used to? Will it come back?

Confinement has been a crucible for relationships, making them or breaking them.  Are some of us turning into plants?

Maybe not such a bad thing? Whatever the case may be, this video is gorgeous:

Can we learn symbiosis?

Forward into uncertainty!

xxxxxx Aliss

 

Margaritas at Midnight

margaritas thumbExcited to share “Margaritas at Midnight” my first music video as DIRECTOR (AND singer songwriter) 🙂

Recorded with the British band Rough Score, guaranteed tequila buzz with bluesy lounge beach music…true love, shamanic dream or cautionary tale?…

Includes DIVINE margarita recipe demonstration 🙂

Here’s the link:

Now on i-Tunes

http://itunes.apple.com/album/id1449311127?ls=1&app=itunes

And Apple music

http://itunes.apple.com/album/id/1449311127

More soon!

xxxxxxx Aliss

And now some comic relief…

Forgive me I know this is incongruous and badly timed…We had a moment of silence today for Nice…and are still grieving, but laughter keeps us going…DSC02813

Three story inflatable gold Eiffel Tower and “Easter Egg” installation at the usually staid Galeries Lafayette, part of an exhibit called “Toiletpaper” I unfortunately can’t comment on yet because it was closed today… This was put up last week before the attacks. But still, what were they thinking? Anyway, it feels good to laugh 🙂

to be continued…xxxx Aliss