I came back to Chateau Brandeau as my last farm for my last days in France. Elly isn't here. Neither is Phil or Eddie of Ana, my new friends since I've arrived. In fact, it's a little too quiet, and as always there is lots of time in the vines...which means lots of time for contemplation. But contemplation makes it sound serene, meditative even. Sometimes it's that, but the most honest description would be a daily a panic attack.
I came to France for a lot of reasons, but if I were going to psycho-analyze myself, I'd say the main reason was that I still felt par-baked after my return from Hawaii. Like whatever had been forming there was close to done, but not quite there. I tried to come back to California and put it all together again last winter, but nothing was quite forming up inside of me and I had to admit that it just wasn't time yet. So I came to France for another adventure, thinking that this time I'd be ready to go back when it was all over. Only now I feel even less confident than before....I'm returning with an even skimpier game plan.
I wish that I could wrap it all up in a neat and tidy arc, or end with some witty and clever thought, but I can't. All I know is that today I leave for Paris for three days and then I fly to New York. After that I have no schedule, no job, no house and no fucking clue.
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