La Vie Solitaire

I guess communicating with other humans is one of those things that you don't miss until it's not there, like a guy who's shaved off his eyebrows.
Although I was busy enough the first few days not to notice it, my activity level is beginning to wane with the realization that, like one of those LucasArts games from the 1990s, everything I'm supposed to get done is interconnected in some complicated way--I need an address to get a long-stay visa, I need a long-stay visa to stay in an apartment, I need an apartment to get some French tail...well, scratch that last one. Quick-Burger works fine as a hunting ground in the meantime.
But anyway, since I can't move into my apartment until September 30th, that basically puts my metro pass, visa, and school forms on hold. Although I usually practice during the morning, that still leaves me about ten hours of the day to kill.
I somehow had the illusion that I knew lots of people in Paris. In reality, I have an ex-girlfriend, a couple of her friends, a guy from IES, and the guy who serves me coffee every morning and mumbles something that sounds like "blood" to himself (I think his name is Jean, but I may be totally inventing that). Thus, when I'm not out watching Michael Moore movies or symphony concerts by myself, I'm holed up in my budget hotel.
Oh, I make little errands for myself. I bought pens today. And a bottle of water. And some raspberries. And a kimono. And twenty boxes of Kleenex. And more jars to urinate into and stack against my wall. Again, I exaggerate only slightly.
Oh well, at least school starts in...11 days? That's not so bad--I can even go without shaving in the meantime. I'm not sure what that would accomplish, but something about it would amuse me.