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June 21, 2005
Death makes room for life...
Written by : "Goddessitta" at Book Of Songs
Friday, June 17, 2005 Catacoma"Ok, I guess my vacation is officially over, now that my travelling companion has winged his way to quieter shores...:-(
This working business takes some getting used to again!
So I thought I'd drop into blogsville, give 'yall some insider's info on some of the cooler places to visit in Paris, tourist-trappiness notwithstanding....
...And n° 1 on my list would be : the CATACOMBS!
The Catacombs are actually a maze , 20 metres below street level, of some 350 km worth of old stone quarries used since Roman times to build Paris. (You can only visit - legally - about 1,7 km of the network).
A couple of years before the French Revolution - that would be 1786ish - the city authorities decided to make more space up above and clear out many of the local cementeries. The earthly remains of their inhabitants were then carefully labeled, cleaned and stacked, with a pretty creepy sense of aesthetic rigeur, into a select number of winding, sepia-lit and humid galleries, that from the beginning of the 19th century onwards were open to the public.
What you now get is this weird combination of pedestrian, eerily intimate morbidity ( the corridors are so narrow that at times you can almost touch skulls on both sides with your outstreched arms) and pompous kitchiness ( in an attempt at preserving the solemnity of the resting-place, the authorities erected stone plaques at regular intervals, in Latin and in French, quoting famous classical and biblical authors on the ultimate nothingness of death and the need to bequeath your material gains before departing the earthly plane...repent, ye Sinners, before ye Meeteth thy Wrathful Maker! ) .I didn't think I'd be so affected by the galleries. But I swear that from the moment I entered, I started feeling a real tight, closing sensation in my chest, and couldn't stand to be alone for more than a few seconds. (For once..thank God for those Asian tourists!) Especially when we neared a more humid corner and could hear the steady drip-drip of condensation dropping down the natural stalagtites(sp?) onto our passing heads...and inflitrating the various bony body parts of the resting companions around me. Much food for thought on the vanity of the human experience...before and after death. And one extra argument in favor of cremation once i get my personal ticket for the Great Kick-Off...
It's estimated that between 5 and 6 MILLION Parisians are now buried in those vaults."
Posted by Ocean at 11:20 AM | Permalink | | Comments (0)
June 17, 2005
I got out.
Spent some time feelin’ inferior
Standing in front of my mirror
Combed my hair in a thousand ways
But I came out looking just the same
Daddy said, ’son, you better see the world
I wouldn’t blame you if you wanted to leave
But remember one thing don’t lose your head
To a woman that’ll spend your bread’
So I got out
Paris was a place you could hide away
If you felt you didn’t fit in
French police wouldn’t give me no peace
They claimed I was a nasty person
Down along the left bank minding my own
Was knocked down by a human stampede
Got arrested for inciting a peacful riot
When all I wanted was a cup of tea
I was accused
I moved on
Down in rome I wasn’t getting enough
Of the things that keeps a young man alive
My body stunk but I kept my funk
At a time when I was right out of luck
Getting desperate indeed I was
Looking like a tourist attraction
Oh my dear I better get out of here
’for the vatican don’t give no sanction
I wasn’t ready for that, no no
I moved right out east yeah!
On the peking ferry I was feeling merry
Sailing on my way back here
I fell in love with a slit eyed lady
By the light of an eastern moon
Shangai lil never used the pill
She claimed that it just ain’t natural
She took me up on deck and bit my neck
Oh people I was glad I found her
Oh yeah I was glad I found her
I firmly believe that I didn’t need anyone but me
I sincerely thought I was so complete
Look how wrong you can be
The women I’ve known I wouldn’t let tie my shoe
They wouldn’t give you the time of day
But the slit eyed lady knocked me off my feet
God I was glad I found her
And if they had the words I could tell to you
To help you on the way down the road
I couldn’t quote you no dickens, shelley or keats
’cause it’s all been said before
Make the best out of the bad just laugh it off
You didn’t have to come here anyway
So remember, every picture tells a story don’t it
Posted by Ocean at 05:34 PM | Permalink | | Comments (0)