What’s this journal thing here? Am I supposed to write in this? What is this deviantART account? Is this mine? I don’t remember setting this up. Actually, I do remember this webpage, I just couldn’t think of a better excuse for letting it waste away, abandoned, like an unwanted child at a parish door, which in turn has been abandoned by the Nuns and Priests.

So August is over, and with it another month-long stretch of vacation. Izzy and I left Paris again, although this time not for Marseilles, this time it was really more of a meander around the country, visiting farms, mountains, and really old medieval villages. There’s just one irk I’ve got with a few of said villages, and that’s when I see cars parked on the street. It’s like here we are among all these older than old buildings, and it’s almost like really being in 1400 AD or whatever, but then there are all these little rinky-dink smart cars cluttering up whatever streets are smooth and wide enough to accommodate cars. It sort of kills the atmosphere. What’s the point of preserving a medieval village if you’re going to cover up every building by parking modern technology on every corner? We visited a few vineyards too, because I really don’t know jack shit about wine. I think Izzy’s taste buds are more sophisticated than mine, because I still can’t tell the difference between a good wine and hogwash. Next time I’m at a party I’ll let her pick the bottle and just agree with whatever she says about it.

Sometime after returning to Paris, Mario got busted up. I was going to drive Izzy to school and then head off to work at the bakery, but the bike was lying on its side in the alley. We weren’t really sure what happened to it since the frame wasn’t really damaged, and it doesn’t seem like anyone’s been joy riding it around, or crashed it, but it wouldn’t start. So Izzy and I broke out the manual and started inspecting it. Somewhere deep in the metal lungs, some tiny and expensive mechanism was lobotomized out of Mario. So we spent a good part of a weekend taking the motorcycle apart and piecing it back together. While we were taking a joy ride around the city with the newly fixed vehicle, Izzy wondered aloud whether or not she should change her major to automotive engineering. I told her to go for it. And just like that, she’s an automotive engineer major now. I've flipped through some of her text books, and even if they were in English I don't think I'd be able to understand half the diagrams in there, it's fucking crazy. Sort of reminds me of the anatomy textbooks I had in military school, only more alien and geometric.

So long; goodnight.