It’s the reason I enjoy the sound of keyboard, or more important, the sound of an ink nib scratching on parchment. Right, like I’m ever going to do it that way.
Over one of the lengthy dining engagements in Paris, I fond myself talking about comfort zones, and taking one step outside of a comfort zone – that’s how progress is made. In that example, over dinner, or maybe it was lunch, breakfast? I don’t recall, one of them, over that meal, I was describing an astrological – metaphysical concept to my companions, about how one step out of the comfort zone is what is required.
Two different nights in Paris found us along the Seine, the fabled “Left Bank,” I’m guessing, not more than half a mile east (might’ve been west for all I know) of the Louvre. Might’ve been between the Louvre and Notre Dame. There was a museum, and through the gates, two pieces of art were clearly visible. One was, as expected, a giant Picasso sculpture thing. The other was a another piece, of a familiar artist.
Understanding and recognizing such an artist, then naming the artist and citing examples – from the Texas desert? Should’ve impressed my traveling companions, all artists, all far more educated in such matters. After all, I was the yahoo-hayseed in the straw cowboy hat, the guy who couldn’t get enough of that excellent French coffee. And steak. They do know how to do that, cook, or better yet, uncooked cow, that’s for sure.
It’s all about taking that one step outside of the comfort zone. Paris was like that, as far as I was concerned, one step outside of my inner-city London theatre & museum districts. Strange food in a strange land.
However, Texas is still bigger than France.
I’m still waiting on my soul to catch up with me, I figure I’m still lost in the turbulent currents of the mid-Atlantic, trying to get caught up with my body.
A swim in the creek, a cup of coffee, a hot dog with cheap yellow mustard? I’m back in Austin. 90 degrees seems almost cool, too.
