Bring it, Charles
This evening, I came home to Charles.
We live in La Bohème and do nothing but sit in cafés and visit with our voisins. Et ça veut dire que nous sommes jolie and we have les nuit blanche filled with crème or at least that’s what I think our nights are filled with because I sometimes have a hard time understanding him especially when he uses the word “kaka” which I’m told is not actually a word. In any language. Let alone la langue de l’Amour. L’Amour in French has a capital ‘A’ and Charles has a way of talking about bread and making it sound zegzy. Much like “kaka”.
He sings to me all the time and sometimes, he stops singing and starts talking all zegzy like and he talks of things I don’t understand because he’s in French, remember?What are you stupid that you don’t remember I just mentioned that, like, three sentences back?
Anyway. Where was I? I don’t understand all of Charles, but then I hear the French words “amooo” and “rrrrrrr” and “ooooooo” and I melt.
And when he really wants to slow things down, he starts singing to me in ‘English’ but it’s really his impression of a four year old boy because I’m pretty sure that’s how old he was when he wrote these lyrics:
You are the one
for me
for me
for me
forrrrrmidaaaaaaable
You are my love
very
very
very
verrritable
Et je voudrais pouvoir un jour enfin te le diiiiiiiiire
Te l’ecriiiiiire
Dans la laaaaaaaaangue de Shakespeare
My desire
desire
desire
desire
desiraaaaaaaaaable
…and I start singing back loudly and imagining I’m sporting white go-go boots and a mini skirt and I dance around with my hands in the air pretending I have some sense of rhythym as I bump into nos voisins and our furniture and knock over the crème that was supposed to fill our nuits blanche and Charles just watches and smiles at me and even laughs and makes funny noises like “heh” and “hmmmm” and “hum hum ha hum” which are French for “I’m hot!”
I often wonder for whom the Bitch tolls when he sings qu’il n’a rien oublié . This is Charles’s only secret.
That and how he’s managed to keep his eyebrows such a dark shade of black.
Download Charles Aznavour’s. Désormais, Les Plaisirs Demodés, For me…Formidable, La Bohème, & Non, Je N’ai Rien Oublié. ALLEZ, VITE!
We live in La Bohème and do nothing but sit in cafés and visit with our voisins. Et ça veut dire que nous sommes jolie and we have les nuit blanche filled with crème or at least that’s what I think our nights are filled with because I sometimes have a hard time understanding him especially when he uses the word “kaka” which I’m told is not actually a word. In any language. Let alone la langue de l’Amour. L’Amour in French has a capital ‘A’ and Charles has a way of talking about bread and making it sound zegzy. Much like “kaka”.
He sings to me all the time and sometimes, he stops singing and starts talking all zegzy like and he talks of things I don’t understand because he’s in French, remember?
Anyway. Where was I? I don’t understand all of Charles, but then I hear the French words “amooo” and “rrrrrrr” and “ooooooo” and I melt.
And when he really wants to slow things down, he starts singing to me in ‘English’ but it’s really his impression of a four year old boy because I’m pretty sure that’s how old he was when he wrote these lyrics:
You are the one
for me
for me
for me
forrrrrmidaaaaaaable
You are my love
very
very
very
verrritable
Et je voudrais pouvoir un jour enfin te le diiiiiiiiire
Te l’ecriiiiiire
Dans la laaaaaaaaangue de Shakespeare
My desire
desire
desire
desire
desiraaaaaaaaaable
…and I start singing back loudly and imagining I’m sporting white go-go boots and a mini skirt and I dance around with my hands in the air pretending I have some sense of rhythym as I bump into nos voisins and our furniture and knock over the crème that was supposed to fill our nuits blanche and Charles just watches and smiles at me and even laughs and makes funny noises like “heh” and “hmmmm” and “hum hum ha hum” which are French for “I’m hot!”
I often wonder for whom the Bitch tolls when he sings qu’il n’a rien oublié . This is Charles’s only secret.
That and how he’s managed to keep his eyebrows such a dark shade of black.
Download Charles Aznavour’s. Désormais, Les Plaisirs Demodés, For me…Formidable, La Bohème, & Non, Je N’ai Rien Oublié. ALLEZ, VITE!



4 Comments:
I don't understand half of the shit you're saying up there but I fucking LOVE that you're dancing around and singing really loudly, LOL LOL!!!!!
No shit you're a Dork ;)
maria
wait...is this?
OH MY GAWD IT'S A DIATRIIIIIIIIIBE!
Run for your lives!!!!!!!!!(!)
teehee. couldn't resist, lovely. *mwah*
Rock on, bitch! I love Charles too. In fact all of The Gays do. Or maybe just all of The Gays In The Know!! You are such a Dork to dance around and sing to his shit and then tell us about it. That's why we keep coming back.
Tommy of The Gays
Maria, half the time I'm not fully aware of what I write, either.
heh, Michelle, a most excellent entry befitting the blog. We should start rhyming again, oui?
Tommy, how AWESOME that you love him, too! I had no idea he was a queer icon?! And here I thought you came back for my introspective posts ;)
xox
m
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