bad boys

It's raining in Paris. Therefore, a perfectly shitty wheather - some say it's perfect for making love, I was thinking it is perfect for walking the usually busy-touristical streets of Le Marais - the rain has chased away what the night hadn't already stored safely in warm beds and too expensive hotels - and for finding strange characters, homless people, the occasional wrong-doer, hopefully a bad vampire who tries to redeem himself (or itself?)... Ya, right, keep dreaming, little Chat. I myself am feeling adventurous tonight, so I wolfed down a slice of three-types-of-cheese pizza (fromage, fromage and fromage - is it because it's France? on the other hand, a little boy here told me cheese-only pizza isn't real pizza, so there are people who don't try to stamp the national emblem everywhere... just kidding, I try to be neither xenophobe, nor nationalist; and the said little boy doesn't even believe in dragons, so I don't take his opinion very seriously - he is adorable though, thus redeeming himself). Where was I? So, a slice of pizza, a highily toxical, highily commercialized and highily (or so they say) caffeinated brownish drink, some peanut flavoured chips and... grapes. Bad, bad Chat.

Anyway, as I was saying, rain and night combined make me wanna take a refreshing walk in search of vampires or of danger of some sort. Stupid, I know - it is perhaps the nocturnal cover that makes things seem less real (less dangerous?) or maybe my feline nature, prone to - yet again - nocturnal explorations. Meanwhile, still true to this nature of mine, I'm perched safely and comfortably on a bed, just listening to a "bad boy" that wants "to do bad things" with somebody - the guitar riffs are almost as thrilling as the parisian night. Why the fascination with beautiful evil - besides televisual and literay influences, innate penchants for drama and an overly nested existence - no, that's about it ;)

***

I'd begun this message about bad boys two days ago. As a I'm quite moral and righteous these days, I wanted to add a little story to it - some weird but nice neighbours of my boss had asked for a little shampoo. Her husband pretended there was none and offered them in return a bottle of hand soap, stating that they were to return it after use. I must confess that my first reaction was very judgemental - I just realized later on that maybe I should've done something about it, but for watching from the side. To conclude, I had quite a disappointed-in-humanity -(thus-myself) evening and drowned it in evil, evil sweets.

The Chat apologizes for retaining this message, but notes that laziness is in its nature. Bear with it.