sick in Tuileries/Parc Montsouris

7/4/10 (transferred from paper)
I'm sitting in the Jardin des Tuileries right now on a bench on a lovely day - a little grey but nice and warm and there's a cute little black bird taking a bath in a puddle behind me and loads of tourists walking to and fro. I'm a little dizzy still form the sickness, but I spent the whole damn day and night in bed yesterday and I'd rather chill somewhere different today.
I spent a little while trying to find a park with internet and most the way from 93 St. Michel (where our IPP classes are) to Place des Vosges (where I know they have internet) I decided I'd rather find a park I'd be comfortable in. I'm sick, and I wanna lay in the grass in the sun and be happy. However, Paris sucks sometimes and has rules up the ass unnecessarily and you can never sit on the fuckin pelouse (grass). I came to a big central park thinking maybe I could find a corner, but I'm tired of walking and a bench will just have to do.

It's definitely cool to say I'm in the Jardin des Tuileries. I can see the Louvre off to the left, Place de la Concorde to the right, and the Musée d'Orsay across the river. i can think about the Palais de Tuileries which once stood here-ish and how it was torn down in the 1848? revolution. I can even think of the millions who've walked here - royals, revolutionaries, celebrities, common parisians, and tourists. I can think of the many lives and stories associated with this place. But I'm sick and all I keep thinking about is how it wouldn't be a big deal to wake the pelouse. (the signs saying the grass is forbidden say "pelouse en repos" or "the grass is resting")
I could go back to good old Montsouris where they have both internet and spots to lay on the grass. Not yet though, I've not patience for the metro and no conscience to walk it.
What the hell gives them the idea this is a park? It's like 80% gravel and there's someone trying to sell you something every 10 ft. I guess it's a jardin, not a parc, but still...
Ough, some jackass just hit me with his sac en plastique while he walked by. Why

Later
He came back as I was writing that last sentence and sat down right behind me, so I promptly packed my shit and left. Guys fuckin suck here. What would give you the idea that it's ok to do that? To treat a woman like a piece of shit and then you expect her to fawn on you or something? That's clearly why he came back, knowing he'd snagged my attention, surely the only thing I could possibly be thinking is how to jump is bones and he made it so convenient for me to talk to him! Fuck you jackass!
I don't trust anyone here. After I left the Tuileries I took the RER B down to Montsouris and now I've found a nice spot on a hill where I can sit in the grass. I can get internet if I want, and there's honestly a lovelier arrangement and collection of trees and flowers here. I think I'm under an oak tree and little ones are springing up at its roots. Down the hill is an arrangement of impatiens(?) and a cherry tree in full blossom. Over to my right is a lovely patch of daffodils, although most the blossoms are gone. It's gettin on that time of spring already... For as quick as it does grow, it decays away so soon, before the summer sunshine has reached its golden noon, before the summer sunshine has reached its golden noon.

Anywho, so I layed on this hill and read a little more Hemingway before I started writing and I stopped because some guy who'd been chillin down the hill from me got up and walked entirely too close to my head.
What kind of world is this where you're never safe and where people aren't even people anymore. they're ok being creepy transitory assholes. Maybe it's just my experience as a woman. It's a different world I experience. It seems worse here than in the states, but even in Chicago the hollering started young. Yeah it's worse here, even just from the fact that I can't understand them fully a lot of the time. The overly pushy jackass creeper will always be a part of my Parisian experience. Maybe it's part of the reason I couldn't say I would move back here for good like Jordan so badly wants to.
I have the odd-enough preference to want to actually be slightly respected on a daily basis.
Maybe I just feel more strongly about it because my gender class has me thinking about my subjugated position here. Maybe it's just because I'm against the idea of getting involved with anyone right now and I see through the stupid game of even the well-intentioned frenchman.

Later
I read a little more, but I know I won't live a moment exactly like this again so I wanna record it. To my left on the hill are a couple of couples lying together. Behind them the B train keeps going by with its bells and grating metallic brakes. Down the hill from me a little is a backpacker laying on his backpack, a guy behind a pine tree I can't really see, and a raven picking through the grass for seeds. To the right of them by the bed of flowers is a cute little group of 2 women and 2 girls. One girl has a green bandana and she keeps running up and down the hill and all around, making exclamations of joy and discovery and playing generally the way I wish I still did. So cute. Lastly there's a group of students further over to the right chillin on the hill with their cigs and their air of cool amusement. The tree I'm under has a good start on growing its leaves, and they make stars in the sky. Other people pass on the sidewalks, but they don't really matter so much. It looks like it's gonna rain, so I might head back.