Cops in Toulouse

Two cars, full of french cops, pulled up on Sean as he exited the convenience store outside the squat where we were staying. The cops emptied out of their cars and surrounded Sean. One grabbed him, pined his arms behind his back, a second cop started firing rapid fire questions in french while a third took his pulse. (I find this to be particularly strange, what were they expecting to find? I imagine anyone would have a pretty abnormal pulse right after they got jumped by a bunch of armed men.) “My legs were shaking, as they patted me down.” Sean said later, “They asked me for my passport and where I was staying.” “I was so scared, I had no Idea what the address was and my passport was back with my things, so I just gave them my california drivers license.”
Later we’re eating croissant and pan au chocolate in the garden with Cyril, “Yeah the cops here are really bad,” he says, “they can keep you for two days on just suspicion.”

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Life of a Baguette

Baguettes have an edible life span of less then 12 hours. After that they turn to rocks, more suitable for fencing or sword fighting then eating. We’ve got a pair of them in our car, from yesterday, and no none seems to be able to get rid of them. These sit on top of a box between the front seats and keep sliding around or falling into Sean when I come to a stop. Finally Sean can’t take it anymore so he opens the window, takes the Baguettes and hurls them into the streets of Toulouse. Unfortunately, he does this just as I roll to a stop at a red light so we’re just sitting there while all these people walk past staring at us and the shattered baguettes sitting on the road.

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Les Toilette Sauvages

the bathroom at the squat was out of toilet paper so I wiped my ass with some hardcore fliers. The toilet has two buttons on it 1 and 2 for varying degrees of water flow. This is definatly an occasion for two. The partially digested remains of yesterday’s dinner, yogurt with strawberries, a brownie or three, bread, and this interesting cross between a queesh and more bread. That and the three hardcore fliers I use to clean myself. Being extra careful not to give myself a paper cut. All the black toner makes the paper really stiff. The bathroom at Les Pavillons Sauvages has black walls. People have scratched graffiti in it like a scratch-board. Its mostly in French but I can still read some of it. Intellectual Masturbation, GO = VEGETARIAN with some commentary about the equivalence of the dairy and egg industry with the meat industry added like a footnote beneath.
I hear someone coming down the hall. Damn, I didn’t lock the bathroom door, and here I am, wiping my ass with some hardcore flier for some band this person is probably in. The door handle jiggles, “en momant SVP” I say, conjuring up my best French. It works and the man heads off.

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Review of Espace B show

Mais il faut dire que June Madrona joue avec une telle candeur et une telle sincérité dans des conditions loin d’être idéales (en plus des cordes cassées, le public est bien maigre, surtout au début) ses petites tranches de vie folk qu’il est bien difficile de ne pas craquer. Le banjo est tout simplement divin, capable de meubler tout l’espace sans pour autant envahir totalement les chansons comme c’est parfois le cas, d’alterner passage tressautant puis mélancolique. Le violoncelle sait rester discret pour mieux relever la sauce. Et puis il y a la voix… Ross Cowman n’a sans doute pas un organe extraordinaire mais il y a une chaleur, une proximité, une émotion, qui sied parfaitement à ces petites histoires simples de la vie de tous les jours, ces souvenirs bons ou moins bons : l’ami perdu de vue (‘Bobby Scarecrow’), la jeunesse dans les suburbs (‘Juanita’), le voyage à Paris (‘Lion Talk’ et son délicieux refrain “Je ne comprends pas ce que vous dites, et ça ne m’intéresse pas, ooh la la la la la la”)… qu’il nous présente en accordant sa guitare. Une bonne partie du nouvel album Lions of Cascadia y passera. Et si on regrettera un peu la quasi-absence d’anciens titres, ce fut une superbe façon de découvrir ces nouveaux morceaux que l’on ne connaissait pas encore (mais qu’on a beaucoup écoutés depuis). June Madrona nous aura offert un très beau moment, qui confirme ce que l’on pouvait penser du groupe : pas révolutionnaire (et ne cherchant pas à l’être) mais d’une simplicité, d’une authenticité et d’une efficacité qui le rendront cher au coeur de quelques-uns. Et pourquoi pas à vous ?
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English Translation

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