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Overdue encapsulation of 2010


Facing up to reality and living up to expectations was never an intention of Le Garçon Particulièr. Throughout the succession of many of my discontinued web pages, one element remains through and through: the delight in blurring the boundaries between highbrow and lowbrow, the cerebral and the unscholarly, the class act and the downright crass. Esotericism does not exist (at least, not in these virtual confines).

In the beginning of 2010, things weren’t looking too peachy. Familial relationships were slowly nibbling away at my personal correspondences. And then the mind-numbingly boring ‘involvement’ with a chick dwarf occurred. And blew up, in my face. To this very day, I still don’t know what we were. I’m talking about the girl who’s slightly damaged goods and has painfully low self-esteem. How to land her: easy, just pay her some attention and a few half-sincere compliments. She’s so used to being shunned that just a wink and a smile and her panties will be half way to her knees. Exit strategy: I’ve considered this many times, and despite the fact that I didn’t perfect it, “I’m not really looking for anything serious right now, but you seemed so special, I couldn’t resist” w-c-ould work.

University work began to pile up (like the sidewalks of Paris during the mid-80’s with dog merde). And very much like the Frenchman’s utter obsession with smelling clean (‘L’Eau Serge Lutens’) than actually cleaning themselves, course work was just as superficial. By the end of the semester, notepads and textbooks were soaked in B, S & T.

Just a quick detour, I’m so glad our generation perceive clean as ‘Bleu de Chanel’ or ‘Colonia Essenza’ by Acqua di Parma. Apparently, manly + cleanly used to be ‘Kouros’ by Yves Saint Laurent, which smells, and I mean this quite literally, like a Frenchman’s armpit plus his underwear after a hot August day.

Then there was my birthday, which was completely disregarded due to 8 exams that week (and a bad memory). I woke up that day, had an exam, continued the week, woke up some other day, and realised I was a year older. Colon-capital-oh.

At the end of the year, besides attempting to catch up on late-night study-induced jetlag, I was also trying to worm my way out of Christian camp. Both endeavours were about as successful as Lindsay Lohan’s alcohol-monitoring bracelet.

Amongst these above-mentioned events were trivial clock-tickers like bad haircuts, procrastination, lazy Sunday potheading, study table graffitiing (yes, I am a total bad-ass) and… not a whole lot else.

So I’m not sure how I want 2011 to grow. It’s already February and not much has happened. I want everything to happen yet nothing to happen at all. I want to stay this way yet transform into a better person. Paradoxical, but I guess without my inherent ironies, I’d be just another guy in an ill-fitting suit.

Paraphernalia.
Because I can.