I wrote this poem in high school: *
Quand PJ, ma petite chatte **
vient, elle me demande ***
"c'est vrai, est-ce vrai?" ****
et je répond "c'est vrai". *****
* This is the only French I knew besides
"Bonjour, Guy!"
"Bonjour Michel! Ça va?
"Oui, ça va. Et toi?"
"Pas mal."
People who took high school French in my age cohort will remember this as the first conversation in Son et Sens, the high school French 1 textbook.
** Was PJ a petite cat? Bwahahahahaha, no. She was a watermelon on sticks.
*** Did PJ demand anything of me? Food. She demanded food.
**** Was PJ an existential cat? No, she was Stupid Like A Box of Rocks. She liked drooling on feet.
***** What was I discussing with my obese, slabor cat? (See **** for explanation of "slabor"). What is true? What is really true? It's lost to the ages, friends.
I was so pretentious in high school.
Oh this is amusing....going back to our high school selves- so innocent and wanting to break away from our parents and all the rules. Also the desire to be seen as an adult while still yet so child like in our thought process while at the same time learning how to fit into our newly emerging adult bodies. A time of metamorphosis.
ReplyDeleteThis is Lanetta
So right -- to be honest, my big focus on this poem is that "c'est vrai, c'est vraiment vrai" was meant to evoke a cat's purr. I didn't think PJ was a great philosopher even then!
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