Until just now, I would have said that my deadpan Parisian vinyl-spinning housemate was most satisfied when least happy. Last night he walked into the house and announced matter of factly that he wanted to die because he had lost his ipod in the library. This is on form for a man who’s highest praise for a thing is that it is bearable. See also the episode a couple of nights ago wherein he fenced with himself for most of a minute while trying to agree with my girl-who-I-go-to-grad-school-with on the subject of the desirability of an anarchist society without abandoning his premise that all people are assholes. The thing is, one gets the impression that he is at his most satisfied when disappointed with the world and the people in it.

Just now, however, he walked in and said that his ipod had been turned in at the lost and found. I said there must be some good people and he said that yes, he would have to stop hating everybody. But he was smiling and seemed genuinely pleased with the prospect.

So there you go.

[Editors Note: A certain amount of artistic liberty was taken in the writing of this blog post. My housemate is actually from Lyon.]