So today many things occured to give one pause.
1. As I was italianastically hanging my wet laundry with clothespins from the lines hanging outside the windows this morning, I could not help but notice the animals gathering around me as if I were Snow White.
I think my mere presence is making birds and cats unite! But for good or evil I am not sure...
2. JUST NOW, as I was sitting here writing this, strange moaning/yelling sounds were coming from upstairs, from the apartment of the woman we imagine is occasionally supplying us with free internet, and the following conversation took place.
Joi: "What was that?"
Me: "I think she's having sex!"
Joi: "No, I think Italians always sound like that."
3. Speaking of Joi, I think it is clear from this photograph that she cannot be trusted and that trouble is afoot.
4. At any rate, despite said untrustworthiness, we had much fun gliding down twisting, walled medieval roads whilst waiting for cool bars to open, not to mention our late reservation at this very very good restaurant.
5. One of which was called MONTECARLA and sounded like a very promising bar from the description in my guidebook: "baroque kitsch aesthetic... all leopard skins, gaudy cushions, plush drapes and moody corners"... and founded by a famous prostitute! What more could two girls about town want? Upon entering, however, Joi and I found ourselves in what appeared on first sight to be a SEX CLUB (as Joi adroitly noted).. There was bad r and b playing.. and couples making out in corners... girls dancing seductively in secret upstairs rooms... and no one else. And the place was decorated in a way I cannot possibly do justice to in language--unless, that is, my language could slither off this computer screen and lick the side of your face while calling you baby baby baby uh. (Which, I admit, it has done once or twice.) There was cheap leopard print fabric covering every couch and chair and draped from the ceilings (from canopies held up by fake Greek columns that had been spraypainted with metallic silver and glitter)... There was, in the one room we sat in amongst the labyrinth of rooms therein, a very large SNAKESKIN COVERED coffee table.. upon which was a very large bouquet of plastic flowers and a fern. Every inch of floor was covered in oriental carpets. The walls were covered in gilded mirrors and paintings of safari animals and, where nothing else could fit, simply spraypainted with what appeared to be leopard spots. On the table in front of us was a pad of paper and a pen with which to leave comments and messages. This is the message I left:
Also: Joi and I each paid 5 euros to become members for the entire next year. Here are our cool membership cards. The guy at the door even handed Joi a card for his leather store on the way out.
Don't be too jealous, biyitches.
Tomorrow, Siena! Cool relics of self-flagellating saints!
The end.
1. As I was italianastically hanging my wet laundry with clothespins from the lines hanging outside the windows this morning, I could not help but notice the animals gathering around me as if I were Snow White.
I think my mere presence is making birds and cats unite! But for good or evil I am not sure...
2. JUST NOW, as I was sitting here writing this, strange moaning/yelling sounds were coming from upstairs, from the apartment of the woman we imagine is occasionally supplying us with free internet, and the following conversation took place.
Joi: "What was that?"
Me: "I think she's having sex!"
Joi: "No, I think Italians always sound like that."
3. Speaking of Joi, I think it is clear from this photograph that she cannot be trusted and that trouble is afoot.
4. At any rate, despite said untrustworthiness, we had much fun gliding down twisting, walled medieval roads whilst waiting for cool bars to open, not to mention our late reservation at this very very good restaurant.
5. One of which was called MONTECARLA and sounded like a very promising bar from the description in my guidebook: "baroque kitsch aesthetic... all leopard skins, gaudy cushions, plush drapes and moody corners"... and founded by a famous prostitute! What more could two girls about town want? Upon entering, however, Joi and I found ourselves in what appeared on first sight to be a SEX CLUB (as Joi adroitly noted).. There was bad r and b playing.. and couples making out in corners... girls dancing seductively in secret upstairs rooms... and no one else. And the place was decorated in a way I cannot possibly do justice to in language--unless, that is, my language could slither off this computer screen and lick the side of your face while calling you baby baby baby uh. (Which, I admit, it has done once or twice.) There was cheap leopard print fabric covering every couch and chair and draped from the ceilings (from canopies held up by fake Greek columns that had been spraypainted with metallic silver and glitter)... There was, in the one room we sat in amongst the labyrinth of rooms therein, a very large SNAKESKIN COVERED coffee table.. upon which was a very large bouquet of plastic flowers and a fern. Every inch of floor was covered in oriental carpets. The walls were covered in gilded mirrors and paintings of safari animals and, where nothing else could fit, simply spraypainted with what appeared to be leopard spots. On the table in front of us was a pad of paper and a pen with which to leave comments and messages. This is the message I left:
Also: Joi and I each paid 5 euros to become members for the entire next year. Here are our cool membership cards. The guy at the door even handed Joi a card for his leather store on the way out.
Don't be too jealous, biyitches.
Tomorrow, Siena! Cool relics of self-flagellating saints!
The end.
posted by Carolyn Turgeon at
8:44 PM
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