Since the cops came and my place was trashed, i think i will call my soiree a success. We were a small group but rowdy nonetheless, and the food went over great. Only a few baked dried apricots stuffed with goat cheese and walnuts left. (yes i’m showing off – i took pictures of all the food too).
Today was my first metro strike. When i got to my platform and saw a lot of people waiting, of course i took it as a good sign. That meant a train was just about to come. But no. A few minutes later a woman made a recorded announcement on the loudspeaker. I didn’t really understand any of it the first time except for the mention of the name of the station before mine, Chatelet. About half the people in the station left. That leaving half got replaced by a new swarm of commuters and the message came on again. This time i strained to pay attention. What i understood was, “As a result of a social situation at Chatelet the 11 train is being delayed”. I was sure there was some idiomatic usage i wasn’t getting because i could only conjure up a train full of parisians spontaneously erupting into a love-in or something. Forgetting it was fucking freezing, i decided to take the bus, since it would give me a chance to get a coffee i hadn’t had yet. Me and ten others watched our bus stalled for 10 minutes behind a truck that had simply been parked in the center of the road coming out of the busiest intersection in my neighborhood. This was causing not only the delay of bus 75, but an enormous bottleneck behind it. No one was grumbling at the bus stop, there was just sort of a collective disbelief. After what seemed like an eternity (but was only like 10 minutes), the owner of the truck casually walked back to his vehicle. When i got to work i found everyone at the cafe. The marketing folks were booting up their laptops, everyone else was playing cards. An electrician over the weekend had accidentally cut the wires which controlled the magnets on the doors. We were locked out. It could be funny, but between the strike, the painful bus ride, and the electrician i calculated about 2 hours of sleep that was denied me for absolutely no reason this morning.
Other than that, i’m at about 10 on the PMS scale so i’m going to spare anyone who’s still reading the pages of crabbiness i’d come up with if i continued on this here post today. First on my list would be the unending damp coldness here. See you don’t want to read about that do you? You oughta read some adolescent boy comments on fark instead.
New Angeles Monthly, June 2008
Weekend America, March 30, 2008
Los Angeles Times, March 13, 2008
Los Angeles Times, March 6, 2008
Nil by Mouth is written by Neille Ilel. Neille is a writer, reporter and user interface specialist in Los Angeles. If you think that's a lot, she's also got a host of meandering sidelines including improv comedy, tennis, cooking, drawing and thinking about learning to play the guitar.
Nil is her given name. It's a long story.
E-mail her here:
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