Not Houston

Between power-watching Weeds on pay-for-view and power-eating a plate of cookies (and no, these activities bear no relation to one another), Steph and I have been perusing options for this tourism mecca called Paris. Getting a hotel reservation has proven tricky. Just when we think we’ve locked something down, we get a “confirmation” email like this:

An answer to your booking request will be sent to you exclusively by email within a maximum of 2 days, you will then have to confirm your reservation.

Meanwhile, other lodging choices seem to be disappearing faster than the previously mentioned cookies. That was dinner tonight, by the way, that and a bowl of Life cereal. Is it any wonder I’m wide-awake blogging? I’m hoping Mr. Eno can lull me into a less-awake state. Yes, I’ve been enjoying the soporific sounds ofΒ his ambient recordings since I first discovered Neroli in 1993. I never get sick of them, which in that regard is quite unique among recorded music. Perhaps there’s nothing to consider? Just an occasional note sprinkled over long, long pauses. I often wish people would converse the way he writes music. No fillers. No “ums”. No tangents. No tangents… like this one! I was talking about Paris, oui?

I found a fairly informative and pastel-colored website to further fill my brain with all things Parisian:Β Among its many suggestions is a Parisian version of Ren-Fest:

But better than info gawking is Google street maps. To walk along the streets of any city, much less Paris, from the comfort of bed, Eno, cats, et al, is two parts creepy and three parts awesome. The place looks great. Can’t wait to get there.