Monday, September 13
It took almost 200 years before someone decided to put on me underpants. Well, rather a few. This morning, as I find myself packed, everyone is talking about Christo, and really a tiny handful of Jeanne-Claude. Yet it’s funny to say, Jeanne-Claude, it sounds like a “Jean-Claude” but with an involuntary southern accent. It’s not every day that you get cicadas in your mouth. Me for example, I rather have pigeons on the head and sometimes badgers who come to break everything in the museum under my feet. But cicadas, never, so I take advantage of it.
Obviously, people have decided to have fun playing the famous game of “no yes, no no, no visible women artists”. And it’s a game that has dragged on for a long time, long before I was a crazy couple’s crazy dream too, long before Zemmour even started saying anything about anyone. This is to tell you if it dates.
Tuesday September 14
It’s weird, but since I’m almost fully covered, I feel like I’m all naked. I am used to being watched, photographed, I even know how to stand up straight and bulge my chest when the patrol of France passes on July 14, so as not to Macron argues that I could have done better all the same.
No, despite all this training, armistices after armistices, day without a car on days when it rains after day without a car on days when it rains a little less, all these glances which have been laid on me since yesterday make me feel a little like a fan of Michel Sardou at the inauguration of the statue tribute to johnny this morning.
I adore that the current mayor of Paris – and current only hope of a left as in good shape asa spell checker in front of Zemmour’s last book– had the idea to install this shining homage, in front of a place that the idol of the youngest so knew well to have been there often, and another that he knew better never to have screwed the feet there.
Wednesday September 15th
That’s it, I’m like Jeanne-Claude and Christo dreamed of me: at the heart of all the discussions. As at the time when my colleague the Pont-Neuf had also had the chance to have underwear for a while, not a minute goes by without someone giving their opinion on my new look, which will however be a distant memory from the first days of October.
As in 1985, it is still very important to have your opinion on things, even if no one has really asked you for it. But unlike 1985, there are now plenty of places to give it away. I loved this little lady who, questioned by a Parisian micro-sidewalk as she walked around Place de l’Etoile said, with a mischievous little laugh: “I must admit that I am not very … thrilled!”
I liked less this columnist who came to cram cancel culture in my makeover like trying to stuff a quail with an ostrich. This man did not understand that Jeanne-Claude and Christo were hiding the better to reveal the object. A bit like sometimes silence is the sweetest media noise.
Thursday September 16
I did well to comb my hair, there are beautiful people who come for my inauguration. A president not yet a candidate, a candidate not yet president, a Minister of Culture who has a lot of free time thanks to an effective trick such as a betaine citrate cachet the day after the party: devote herself only to artists who are already dead. It’s a lot less hassles and claims for the future, which they no longer have.
There was also the former Minister of Culture who, more than thirty years ago, inaugurated the pyramid of the Louvre and more recently but in an equally controversial way, the fashion for house coloring, a bit like a revival of the first confinement. , corn that we would have left for twenty minutes too long. Or three years.
Finally there were, because they are always there, the famous pigeons which keep me company the rest of the year, when I am not packed. They had two, three words to say to the president on traditional hunts. But I have little hope, because the pigeons do not vote. Well, not those.
Friday September 17th
This weekend, I think the weather is not expected, but I don’t care, for once I have a K-way. When I talk about rain, I always think of poor François Hollande who, on one of the July 14 parades, had gone up the whole avenue under the drizzle. When I talk about François Hollande, it always reminds me of critically endangered pachyderms and precisely, I saw something about this in the newspaper.
Yes, I read the newspaper, there are plenty that happen to me, just a Parisian does not put it in the trash and it flies up to me like an FFP2 mask or an LBD shot. I might as well tell you that I have fresh news every day.
In short, I read that scientists were not no longer very far from reviving the mammoths. It’s crazy, we have twelve elephants left on Earth and we sweat our foreheads to make mammoths again. I know that the result of the primary of the ecologists is expected these days, but is that a good reason to add future creatures to the list of endangered species? And in these cases, why not start with a leftist candidate who has a chance?
It would be exciting.
