My Future Resting Place

It was very difficult to get Jessica moving this morning, I had to try and wake her twice, which rarely happens as she can usually manage to get herself going, so while I was waiting for her to get ready I had my breakfast. As I munched on the baguette from the bakery downstairs, I realized that it was not very good. It has a nice taste, but the crumb of the bread is oddly textured. It is soft and squishy. I have my doubts that they do baking in the shop as I have never smelt the intoxicating aroma of baking bread as it wafted through my window. I don’t smell it in the shop either. I’m not going there anymore. I much prefer Miss Manon down the road.

Jessica got ready to go and off we went. There were new signs in the Métro, one was advertising something called Venetian Nights at Versailles. It showed elegantly dressed figures in 18th Century dress on a gondola wearing masks. I LOVE Venetian masks. I want to someday host a masquerade ball just so that I have the occasion to wear one. Then again, when I’m famous (sometime next week, I hope), maybe it will be my trademark. Unfortunately this delightful looking event doesn’t happen until we’re back home. I’m really quite distraught over this.

After a brief jaunt on the Métro, we popped out and were quickly at Père-Lachaise cemetery. This is one of my absolute favorite places in Paris. I love to walk about the crumbling tombs, think about the people who are buried within, think about life, ponder the ephemeralness of existence, wondering if there is such a thing as destiny or if we are all just stumbling forward without a goal. I have a few short stories that I have developed about this cemetery, I really need to get them written out. I have a very difficult time writing short stories–I always want to go on and on and all of a sudden there are several hundred pages.

I fully intend to be buried in this cemetery in a magnificent tomb. There are restrictive laws and a waiting list, but I’m sure I will get it figured out by the time that I die when I’m well over a century old. I would like to buy one long before I meet the end of my days so that I can see that it is just perfect and spend some time enjoying it. I’d like to go have a picnic in my future grave. It might sound a bit macabre, but I think it is really rather fun.

I don’t know what this is, but it looks deeply sinister. I can only assume it is a mask used in some kind of zombie revival ritual or Satan worship.

Gagging on the old-time eleganza. I wish we had tombs like this back home, not just in the deep South.

Jesus and his Ma lost their heads:

Scary busts:

Here I am looking pensive at the tomb of Colette. She is one of the most famous French writers, having written grand novels such as Chéri and Gigi. Interesting fact, I finished Chéri this morning! It was one of the most difficult books I’ve read in French and it was very good–not my usual variety, but I enjoyed it.

Jessica wanted this bracelet off the dead woman:

Being a zombie/vampire/undead creature of the night is exhausting as these photos evidence:

Pretty sure this is the Virgin:

This tomb wins my award for sexiest door–it’s almost lemongrass green!

No idea what this one means, it has totally stumped me. It looks like old-fashioned divers or beekeepers or maybe astronauts. I would love to learn more about this, but I couldn’t’ find any information anywhere. I’m guessing that one of the inhabitants was a lover of the sea.

I loved how simple this one was. Creepy spiderwebs, though:

Whoever was buried in here was obviously very important or had an awful lot of money. Quite a status symbol!

This tomb was unusual. The walls and ceiling were painted. Most of the paint on the walls had long since peeled and flaked away–there is no protection from the elements and these structures were built a few decades before the American Civil War. You could get a general sense of the ceiling paint, though, and I loved it.

Is there a better last name than de Lion? No. There is not. I am now thinking of changing my Hollywood name from Dominic Grey to Dominic de Lion. Maybe Dominic Grey de Lion. Oh it sounds like money already!

Christine Cheese! The teasing this family must go through!

Death is lingering around this tomb, waiting to snatch his next victim.

This was my favorite tomb of the day. It was in a very prestigious setting, so he must must have been important, but it wasn’t the location that intrigued me, it was the design. There were ancient Egyptian symbols and motifs all over it, and the bust of the inhabitant was done in the style of the Pharaohs. I tried to figure out who it was, but the engravings were so eroded that it was impossible. Joseph somebody.

Their name is Bony-Ness! BONY-NESS! Once more…BONY-NESS!!!

Here I am hanging out with Édith Piaf, one of my very favorite singers. There were lots of tourists lurking about taking pictures of the famous tombs not knowing why–this always infuriates me. These people probably know two Édith songs tops. I know hundreds. Hundreds! So, because of their pushiness, I have yet to sing a song at her tomb. Someday.

Next we went to the tomb of Oscar Wilde. I love his writing and have read the majority of what he published in his life. There were more lingering tourists who I’m sure have never even seen the cinematic adaptation of The Picture of Dorian Gray, let alone read the novel or one of his short stories. There was no lipstick with us (though after singing Jedward’s single all day titled Lipstick, you’d think we would have thought to bring a tube so I just kissed the tomb with my bare lips hoping that somehow some tiny portion of his talent would come my way.

Continuing on in the next post.

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