11-8-88: The day of the election, I hope Bush is losing. I saw Herbie Hancock and Chick Corea last night: Herbie Hancock should have been playing in a small nightclub and not a 7 or 8 thousand seat arena, the Zenith.
mot du jour: doulerouse: painful
a cette egard: from this point of view
Chick Corea was corny as hell. As Bill said, 'His band looks like a bunch of Italian hockey players from Boston.' All of the musicians were incredibly talented and technically professional, but it was ... boring. I get tired as hell of listening to people play scales at a million miles per hour. I'll take Peter Buck any day. I saw a man on the Metro today who was kind of happy-looking -- lots of chomp chomp chomping on his gum.
11-15-88: Last weekend I went with 40 other screaming Americans on my program to Bourgogne: first Tornus, to eat lunch, see a cathedral (abby) and go wine-tasting and then dinner -- liver (duck), which was rather gross. I ate it anyway. Stayed the night in Cluny, at a hotel -- stayed with Abby and Pam, laughed a lot. Saw Cluny the next day, a huge abby which was for the most part wrecked after the Revolution. We ate lunch at a farm which dated to the XIII century. Great food -- chicken, sausage, cheese, the works. Returned Sunday night. Wrote my stupid paper on Balzac. Fortunately Guillaume corrected it. Caught a cold, might go to Italy this weekend. Bye.
The sun rises rapid
But a mist remains
The barking dogs
Shout up the wall
Through a mist
That shouldn't
Leave soon
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