Friday, March 29, 2024

In Which We Voyage


Sunday afternoon, Diane von Austinburg and I will hurl ourselves into the sky and hopefully land in Paris the next morning.  Woohoo.  I'm looking forward to our trip very much, we'll also be dropping in on Venice for a few days.  I haven't been to Europe in more than 30 years, but my previous trips to Paris were very successful and got all the obligatory destinations out of the way so now I can concentrate on my favorite Parisian activity which is simply wandering around aimlessly.

Or possibly just holing up in my hotel room since the weather forecast calls for Gallic gray skies and chilly rain.  As sort of a bon voyage from San Francisco, the weather here has flipped from gorgeous sunny spring back to drizzly winter; I feel like I'm rehearsing for my vacation.

We do have a couple of plans, the one I'm looking forward to the most is an exhibit of work by my favorite artist in the world, Mark Rothko.  It's the largest show of his stuff ever mounted and I only found out about it after I had already arranged the trip.  We get there the day before the show closes, it was meant to be.


I also arranged for massages in both Paris and Venice.  Experience has taught me that being trapped in an airplane results in my creaky old carcass needing some assistance straightening up.  The website for the spa in Venice was very straightforward and I got the reservation with no problem.  The Parisian one, naturalment, was considerably more difficult; I'm still not 100% sure I have a reservation.  I'm sure it'll be fine.

"I'm sure it will be fine" pretty much sums up my attitude for this whole trip; I've done fuck all research for where to go and what to do.  We'll be in Paris and Venice.  It's going to be wonderful.  So adieu bitches, the boulevards and the canals are calling me.

Fellow travelers:

Pretty much the only things I've even sort of arranged are dinners.  Because, Paris and Venice.  Duh.

Bryce Evans, a prime example of English beef.

Daniele Montana, Italian humpiness.

I couldn't find any French pussy, so let's just pretend this anonymous beauty is one.

Ooh la la la lah.

OK, that exhausts all of my European smut awareness.

I take it back, here we have Liam Jolley, who I believe is British.


  1. Arrivederci, bon voyage, and try to stay out of trouble.

    Anonymous, too

  2. Passez de bonnes vacances! Jx


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