Cheeky Olympics Ads

Now that this season of Mad Men, the brilliant TV series about Madison Avenue ad men (and women) in early ‘60s NYC, has ended, Richard and I plan to watch it the way we prefer to watch a season of a TV show, all at once.  So, no spoilers, please.  We'll download it from iTunes or Netflix and have a marathon viewing session, 13 episodes in a row. 

Speaking of marathons, and advertising, we’ve noticed a few posters in Paris promoting the 2012 Olympics in London, created on behalf of an Olympics sponsor, Eurostar, the high-speed train service that gets people from Paris (or Brussels) to London in less than three hours. The ads seem to us pure genius. Why?

· They express an ironic message about something of value: excellence in athletics and health (As the pre-Socratic philosopher, Thales, said: “Νοῦς ὑγιὴς ἐν σώματι ὑγιεῖ," -- “A healthy mind in a healthy body.”); 

· but without preaching; 

· with quintessential deadpan British humor;

· depicting two English blokes with English hair and paunchy bodies as ancient Greek statues, frozen in modern “athletic” poses for two favorite British pub sports: darts and snooker.

We discovered that the ad campaign for Eurostar was created by a French company, Leg, who have done other Eurostar ads poking fun at French stereotypes of the beer-swilling Brits, an approach that's likely to attract the French and Belgians to London’s Olympic Games.

How delicious! Wouldn’t it be great if all advertising were this witty and original, linking ancient art and attitudes about health with modern physical culture? How rare is that?

Now if only they’d reinstate the ancient Greek custom of competing naked, rubbed all over with glistening olive oil, Richard and I would jump on the Eurostar and go, too. Or maybe we'll just rub each other with olive oil for our Mad Men marathon.

Our Friend Daniel, in the Lions' Den

Our good friend, the poet Daniel Abdal-Hayy Moore, is a frequent contributor to the Paris Play dialogues that accompany each post. I've known him since we lived in Berkeley in the late sixties, and am sorry to hear news of his health worries. At the time of this post, Daniel just entered the hospital for the first of three chemo and 35 radiation therapy sessions. The prognosis is good, and his family and friends are hopeful.

This post, which contains his recent poem, is a prayer for Daniel, a thank-you for his contributions, and request for our friends all over the world to offer up prayers to him, whatever your religion, or lack of same. Atheists, agnostics, pagans, all can play.

THE LIONS' ARENA

The lions' arena

is full of medical equipment

The roar of the lions is the

great radiation ring whirring

The crowd leaning forward with

thumbs at the ready

wears chemotherapy gowns

It’s a hot day

and a restless hum is in the air

The masks of everyone’s faces

are beginning to slip

As we enter naked and

shackled the

crowd is hushed

The outcome is anyone’s guess

and God’s to toss into the

arena’s dust we’ve

been since birth

waiting for this moment’s

test

There’s no signal to start

all is already closing in

A star glimmers overhead

for each of us

wanting the best

Our hearts have already

entered paradise

and come to

rest

_____________________

5/28/12 (from Down at the Deep End, in progress)

Photo (c) 2012 Malika Moore

Sans Abri

One offers, the other demands.

One smiles, the other grimaces.

One is silent, the other assaults your ears.

One of them has created a tableau for your viewing pleasure, the other borrows red and gold roosters and pokes them to perform until she tires of caring for them a few days later.

I stop to look at the assemblage he has fashioned on the sidewalk.

Très créatif, I say, très surréaliste.

He smiles shyly, extends his paper cup.

I usually carry change in my pockets for the homeless. But I've just spent the last coin. I walk on, inspect the office chairs in a shop window. The least costs thirty times the amount that would buy him a meal.

I return, ask him permission to photograph his creation. His eyes shine, yes.

Et vous aussi?

He nods yes.

I put a five Euro bill in his cup, enough for dinner.

He asks me where I’m from.

Les États-Unis, I say. Mais je vis ici maintenant.

I’d like to ask him where he is from, how did he come to Paris, did he fight in a war? but he barely speaks French. I settle for, Et vous?

Bulgarie, he says.

His head is covered in flowers instead of hair, his face round with a silver beard, he might be in his 60s. You can see his spirit shine in his creation, you can see it in his eyes.

Photo: Kaaren Kitchell

     *     *     *     *     *

I never give her money. I can’t. She is so aggressive it hurts to pass her on Blvd. Saint-Germain. She sits on the sidewalk, skirts puddled around her, yelling at everyone who passes.

Bonjour Madame! Bonjour Monsieur! As people approach, her voice rises in volume.

Most people ignore her. She cuts their backs with her sarcastic Bravo, Madame! Bravo, Monsieur!

She is full of energy, a manipulative actress. Swift changes pass over her face like clouds across an orangey moon—hopeful, self-pitying, grotesque, furious, bitter.

I fantasize saying gently to her, If you want to receive more money, try being less aggressive. But I’ve learned from experience that it’s a mistake to speak frankly with narcissists. They are only interested in looking into their own mirrors. No light comes from her. She doesn’t care if your arms are loaded high with fruit and dry cleaning. Doesn’t notice if you are deep in conversation with someone else. She is pure “Moi! Moi! Moi!”

Very few people stop.

 

Sarkozy, C'est Fini!

Sunday night, at Place Bastille, where at least a hundred thousand jubilant people gathered under an overcast sky to welcome a new president, it all came down to two chants.

Sarkozy, c'est fini! (SAHR-ko-zee SAY-fee-nee)!

Hollande gagne! (OH-lan GAHN-yea)!

"Sarkozy is finished," and "Hollande won."

So ended the hard-fought and often nasty election campaign which saw France turn for the first time in sixteen years to the Socialists, making the center/right Nicolas Sarkozy a single-term president. 

This was the scene a few seconds past eight p.m., when the TV station being broadcast on the stadium-sized screen at Place Bastille flashed François Hollande's photograph, over the percentage of votes (51.7%) that exit polls showed him receiving. The jubilation was reminiscent of Barack Obama's 2008 Grant Park rally on election night in Chicago:

In addition to our exclusive Paris Play video, here are faces of the evening captured in stills, with our impressions, and a word or two about what we think could come next.

A line of (mostly) women dancing and ululating with glee

A father and daughter celebrate

And plenty of time for silliness

Each time the screen showed a picture of the outgoing president, seen here conceding defeat, the huge crowd booed...

...or worse

The young and lithe climbed to the base of the famous Bastille column

Thousands upon thousands of revelers boiled out of the Metro stations...

...and boogied on to Place Bastille, swelling the crowd to at least a hundred thousand strong

He was disappointed that the police forbade him to ride his motorcycle into the huge crowd...

...while these folks on rue St. Antoine cheered the celebrants from their safe second-floor perch

The magazine L'Express was hot off the presses within two hours, while the president-elect didn't arrive to address the waiting crowd until 12:45 the next morning

There were plenty of homemade signs, and the crowd was overwhelmingly young

The ubiquitous image of Che Guevara, found wherever leftist internationalists gather

In 2008, when Obama and his supporters celebrated in Grant Park, they did so under a growing economic cloud, the result of the Bush administration's mishandling of the American economy, which meant the celebrations had to be short, because the United States was in crisis. The economy cast a pall that Obama still labors under; as he runs for a second term, the Republicans work to foster the lie that the Great Recession is the Democratic president's fault.  

Three-and-a-half years after Grant Park, incoming president Hollande labors under a similar cloud. The European economy is worse off than the United States' (though the entire world economy is yoked together), and France suffers from record high unemployment, as its citizens chafe at the austerity measures the European Union is demanding.

Hollande's victory flies in the face of that demand. He believes (as does American economist Paul Krugman) that austerity is a ridiculous policy in the face of a recession, and that economies must be nurtured with strong government measures to increase employment and strengthen social programs.

The UK newspaper, The Independent, which doesn't like Hollande, grumps that Sarkozy's defeat "...poses once again the question of whether any national leader, of any party, can impose the degree of austerity deemed necessary by the financial markets and remain electable." One of the messages that both left and right were united on this year was that "financial markets" were not governments; the French wanted French elected officials, not Brussels-based European Union bureaucrats, to make economic and political decisions for their country.

Whatever the next weeks, months, or years of a Hollande presidency have to offer, the basic question is, what kind of a world will this young will-be voter, carried by her mother to witness this critical historical moment, find herself in when she comes of age?

Your Answers for Marcel Proust

Kaaren honoring Proust with stargazers (our flower shop was out of cattleya)

Last Saturday we asked you to answer a Proust questionnaire. Here are the responses from those brave enough to play. We're delighted by your eloquence. As you'll recall, the questions were:

1. The main feature of my character

2. The quality that I desire in a man

3. The quality that I desire in a woman

4. What I appreciate most about my friends

5. My main fault

6. My preferred occupation

7. My dream of happiness

8. What would be my greatest misfortune

9. What I would like to be

10. The country in which I would like to live

11. The color I prefer

12. The flower I like

13. The bird which I prefer

14. My favorite authors in prose

15. My favorite poets

16. My favorite heroes in fiction

17. My favorite composers

18. My favorite painters

19. My heroes in real life

20. My heroines in history

21. My favorite names

22. What I hate most of all

23. Characters that I most despise

24. The military act that I value most

25. The reform that I admire most

26. The gift of nature that I would like to have

27. How I would like to die

28. My present state of mind

29. Faults that inspire the most indulgence in me

30. My motto

Street art by Tristan des Limbes

Walter Calahan

My answer:  Proust had to answer too many questions.

Susan Griffin

1. If I knew I would tell you. (which might indicate, openness, I suppose).  2. emotional insight.  3. emotional insight.  4. Their presence in every sense of the word.  5. Being late.  6. Writing.  7. Warm weather in good company or serene solitude.  8. I’m too superstitious to say it out loud.  9. I am what I’d like to be now. In another life, perhaps an actor.  10. Either where I am now, Berkeley, California, a country in its own right, or France.  11. Deep blue in the sky, turquoise in water, green around me outdoors, ochre on the walls inside, black or shades of purple to wear, skin and eyes in every available shade.  12. Cherry blossoms.  13. Hummingbirds (and sparrows and ravens).  14. Among so many, these come to mind:  Tolstoy, M. Proust, V. Woolf, Edith Wharton, James Baldwin, Toni Morrison, Grace Paley, John Berger, Michael Ondaatje, Joan Didion.  15. Again among so many, Sappho, Dickinson, Whitman,  Mallarmé, HD, WC Williams, Theodore Roethke, Rilke, Nelly Sachs, Adrienne Rich, Aime Cesaire,  Jacque Prévert, Paul Celan, Cavafy, Lucille Clifton, B.H. Fairchild.  16. Well, of course, Valjean in Les Miserables, and the narrator of In Search of Lost Time, Mrs. Ramsey in To the Lighthouse, Lady Dedlock in Bleak House.  17. Bach, Mozart, Phillip Glass, Steve Reich, Jelly Roll Morton, John Coltrane, Billie Holiday and Ella Fitzgerald riffing on standards, Bob Marley,  Arvo Part.  18. Helen Frankenthaler, Claudia Bernardi, Basquiat, Morton Dimondstein (my adoptive father), Frida Kahlo, Rothko, Morris Graves, Lucian Freud, Eve Hesse, Alice Neel, Rembrandt, Tintoretto, Titian, Cezanne, Suzanne Valadon,  Sonia Delaunay, Charlotte Salomon, unnamed Haitian”folk” painters.  19. Aung san Suu Kyi, Nelson Mandela, Helen Caldicott, Rosa Parks, Barbara Lee, my friend, Jodie Evans.  20. Ninon de Lenclos, Sojourner Truth, Ida B. Wells,  Eleanor Roosevelt, MLK, Fannie Lou Hamer, Rachel Carson.  21. Pilar, Pascal, Rachel, Dante.  22. Arrogance mixed with stupidity and cruelty (the first often leading to the latter).  23. Edward Cassaubon in Middlemarch,  though it’s harder to find absolute villains in good fiction than in real life; one can even sympathize with the ruthless Inspector Javert.  24. Liberating the concentration camps in WW II.  25. Universal Health Care.  26. Good health.  27. In my own bed surrounded by family and friends.  28. Anxious and happy alternating from moment to moment.  29. Being late.  30. The truth will set you free.

John Lennon by Jef Aerosol

John J. Heimark

1. The main feature of my character:  My character.  2. The quality that I desire in a man:  Honesty.  3. The quality that I desire in a woman:  Honesty.  4. What I appreciate most about my friends:  Sense of humor.  5. My main fault:  I am cheap.  6. My preferred occupation:  Masterbuilder.  7. My dream of happiness:  World peace.  8. What would be my greatest misfortune:  To lose a friend.  9. What I would like to be:  Loved.  10. The country in which I would like to live:  Brazil.  11. The color I prefer:  Navy blue.  12. The flower I like:  Bird of Paradise.  13. The bird which I prefer:  Peregrine Falcon.  14. My favorite authors in prose:  Prose is dull and tedious.  15. My favorite poets:  Kaaren Kitchell, Carl Sandburg….  16. My favorite heroes in fiction:  T.S.Garp.  17. My favorite composers:  Bach, John Lennon, Joe Ely…. 18. My favorite painters:  Michaelangelo, van Gogh, Terry Allen….  19. My heroes in real life:  My father, fire fighters, police officers….  20. My heroines in history:  Betsy Ross, Sue Heimark Dufern, Sandra Day O'Connor…. 21. My favorite names:  Allison, Veronica, Brice.  22. What I hate most of all:  Losing family.  23. Characters that I most despise:  Politicians….  24. The military act that I value most:  Desert Storm, 1991.  25. The reform that I admire most:  Cigarette smoking restrictions.  26. The gift of nature that I would like to have:  Public speaking, like my father has.  27. How I would like to die:  In my sleep when I am over 100 years of age.  28. My present state of mind:  Bliss.  29. Faults that inspire the most indulgence in me:  Good food.  30. My motto  "Attitude is everything." 

Dream or fortune, I will touch the moon 

Daniel Moore

Dear Paris Play:  I’m really sorry, I started out kind of Pataphysical, and ended up kind of metaphysical.

1. The main feature of my character: eyes that eye, nose that noses, mind that minds, heart that… harkens, and hopeful invisibility.  2. The quality that I desire in a man: If asleep, a dream bubble in 3D, if awake compassion and wisdom (or the same in both states).  3. The quality that I desire in a woman: Heartfelt enthusiasm and a laugh like falling water, light in the eyes that lights up other eyes.  4. What I appreciate most about my friends: Eyes that light up, lips that sing, limbs that generously extend & swing.  5. My main fault: Never quite there, however close, never too far, however far, AND an inability to take these exercises seriously, and yet, and yet….  6. My preferred occupation: There’s no limit in listening, opening up and the word horde flowing.  7. My dream of happiness: Everyone on fields of light, choirs in the clouds, lively spectrums from good minds.  8. What would be my greatest misfortune: To not think and know these things or be bereft of faith.  9. What I would like to be: A saint who flies through the air and lands where needed.  10. The country in which I would like to live: A country of flying saints and soft landings.  11. The color I prefer: I admit a great fondness for turquoise, especially when matched with silver.  12. The flower I like: One in the shape of a piano played with trilling runs and deep chords.  13. The bird that I prefer: The hoopoe, leader of the birds to the Great Simurgh, and of course the Simurgh itself (see The Conference of the Birds).  14. My favorite authors in prose: Francis Ponge, but that’s poetry, or Irving Rosenthal, Sheeper… or is that also poetry?  15. My favorite poets: The ones to come… to whom, like music, we aspire.  (And then there’s Mevlana Rumi, in authentic translation, Rene Char, Tomaz Salamun, etc. etc. etc.).  16. My favorite heroes in fiction: All the Kafka ones, then back to Gulliver and Robin Hood, Robinson Crusoe, and of course Hayy ibn Yaqthan by Ibn Tufayl.  17. My favorite composers: Olivier Messiaen, Terry Riley, John Adams, etc. etc. etc. (I’m getting serious now).  18. My favorite painters: Gustave Moreau, Odilon Redon, Jess, etc. etc. etc.  19. My heroes in real life: All saints, living in real life, and dead in even more real life.  20. My heroines in history: Rabia Adawiyya, and Shaykha Baji and my wife Malika, whose histories are gloriously still in progress.  21. My favorite names: Ah… Muhammad, Hafez, Gululapeg, Sandoz the Magnificent, Gerard de Nerval, Otto.  22. What I hate most of all: Hatred.  23. Characters that I most despise: Despisers.  24. The military act that I value most: The Laying down of arms.  25. The reform that I admire most: That once all striving is made to change and better things, we know somehow that everything by Divine Decree is, oddly, perfect just as it is (illuminatingly).  26. The gift of nature that I would like to have: Ever cool most inward aplomb on an epic scale.  27. How I would like to die: Reciting Qur’an, sitting up or laying back, no problem, remembering God in all gracefulness and sweet relief, with a farewell poem snatched from the angels.  28. My present state of mind: Less easy than it should be, sharper than it has been, as circular as ever, with a few sparklers.  29. Faults that inspire the most indulgence in me: Sadly, my own.  30. My motto: La ilaha il Allah Muhammad rasulullah (and may it be the last on my lips and in my heart.

Anna Waterhouse

1. Faithfulness.  2.  Faithfulness.  3. A nurturing instinct.  4.  Faithfulness…and a nurturing instinct.  5.  I’m too generous. (Kidding.) I’m too sensitive. (Also kidding.) I’m sarcastic.  6.  I’d love to be Bonnie Raitt. To have spent my life playing the guitar like that, and singing with those people....wow.  7.  Writing. Singing. Without worrying about money.  8.  The death of my child.  9.  Four inches taller.  10.  Italy.  11.  I have no favorite colors, though there are a few I dislike. Puce comes to mind, if only for the name.  12.  It’s a tie. Roses for their scent and beauty, and the fact that they protect themselves and need a ridiculous amount of care; and orchids because they have no odor, are ridiculously fragile, and vant to be left alone.  13.  Easy. A hawk. Our neighborhood hawk can come scoop up our adorable wild bunny, if he wants, though I hope he doesn’t. In other words, if it’s almost anything versus a hawk, I’m rooting for the hawk.  14.  Oooh, way too big a question. All the famous ones, at some time or the other, or in some mood or another. And I also dislike them all at some time or the other, or in some mood or another.  15.  See #14. (Though Neruda often rises to the top.)  16.  Not sure what “heroes in fiction” means. Fictitious characters I like or admire or want to emulate?  See #14.  17.  Composers? Really?  I mean, everyone from Verdi to Philip Glass to Kurt Cobain. Or maybe I don’t understand the question.  18.  Lucien Freud. My uncle Romano. Miro’. See #14.  19.  Jesus.  20.  None come to mind, though I’ll surely kick myself when they do.  21.  Carbon de Castille Jaloux, or just about any French name except Gabi.  22.  A sense of entitlement.  23.  Child molesters. Predators in general. (Unless you're a hawk, I guess.)  24.  The salute.  25.  The repeal of slavery. 26.  I don’t understand the question. Unless you mean that I’d like to be able to take root and live several hundred years, and when someone cuts off my limbs they grow back…  27.  A long, long, long time from now. And I'd kind of like to be translated. Sucked up into the sky. A chariot of fire could be good.  28.  Calm.  29.  My yelling at bad drivers. (Meaning “other” drivers.) I just think I’m so cute when I do it.

Patricia Duthion

As I don't know how to answer the questionnaire, I asked my dog. She had no spiritual 
ideas, but Raga said:
 
Le principal trait de mon caractère? La volonté, la désobéissance, l'entêtement. Mais aussi, 
je suis très pacifique, je déteste l'agressivité. 

La qualité que je préfère chez un homme? Qu'il soit joueur, et bon joueur si possible. 

Et chez une femme? La douceur et la patience, ça me rassure.  

Le bonheur parfait? Faire quelques longueurs dans la piscine, m'ébrouer dans l'herbe, 
manger, manger, encore manger, puis m'allonger contre ma maîtresse pour un bon somme.

Mes films cultes? Les 101 dalmatiens, Belle et le clochard, Rintintin? Il y a longtemps que 
je ne suis pas allée au cinéma, il y a sûrement mieux. 

Les fautes pour lesquelles j'ai le plus d'indulgence? La gourmandise, le cabotinage. 

Qu'ai-je réussi de mieux dans ma vie ? Ma maîtresse.