T! Paris was fun. Great trip. I have a driver here, Herman, who drives me whenever I come to town. It’s nice because it seems I’m never here for very long and I can get a lot done. He loves movies. You've got to hear him talk about contemporary French cinema, it’s fucking hilarious. “The women... she is sad. She has the baby, she is alone, she struggles. But she is Parisian, she is strong. Over and over, this is the only story we have here in France today. Not like the Americans! You have movies like Forrest Gump."
Anyway NONE of that is why I’m writing you.
T!!! That fucking gardenia plant, man. I know what this must sound like! It sounds fucking absurd. And corny as hell! I get it. It’s like a poor man's “Being There,” but I can't help it - there’s something going on with me and that plant! And over here lost in Paris, running fast from a very bad feeling, there was that plant. I don’t know. I’m not going to keep droning on about it. I think you get the analogies of mirrors, roots, life force, blooms that come in pairs, etc. It just cheapens it, anyway, and I may be a lot of things but cheap is not one of them.
So even despite my own will to corner myself into a dark place in a beautiful city, I was able to look around and see that love is powerful, and despite what poisons I have taken in through my own roots, my nature, like that old plant's, is to live and to produce beautiful blooms now and again. My nature is to show love and to give love -- for no other reason than that it’s easy to do and it feels good. And that there is no room for self will in good feelings. There is no room for self will in love. Self Will is poisonous to my roots and self will will stop me from growing, and when I stop growing I die. And if I die - you might miss me.
So here’s to giant bananas, 24 hour drug stores, and gardenia plants.