You don't know how you took it
You just know what you got
Oh lawdy, you been stealing from the thieves
And you got caught

Not a bad year, all in all; Complete stagnation for the first half, then absolute bedlam for the second. Balance is of paramount importance.
I spent this year's birthday in Paris, as a weekend getaway...decent progress from spending last year's in sunny Waterloo. I feel vaguely like I'm getting away with something, as though some Karmic Inspector will leap out of an alley tomorrow and demand proof of the good deeds that I've done to deserve the opportunities I've got right now.
I flew in late on Friday night, and caught the RER into the city, then the Metro to the Three Ducks, a massively over-rated hostel in the 15th Arrondissement. I saw the place mentioned in the same class as the Flying Pig in Amsterdam, but it doesn't even come close. A couple of drinks later, and it was time to hit the sack, since I had to pick up an unindicted co-conspirator in a lot of the fun I had in my last couple of years at school from the airport at 7:30 the next morning.
When he finally stumbled out of Baggage Claim Hell at around 9:30, he wasn't up for much strenuous touristing, partly due to jet-lag, but mostly due to massive sissyness. We hit the Picasso Museum after a quick lunch, and I discovered that Picasso worked in far more varied media than I'd previously thought, and the man had a real thing for goats. After getting Nick settled into the hostel for a quick nap, I went out looking for the Bastille, thinking, foolish tourist that I was, that something that important would surely be clearly signed. This being France, there were no indications as to where it was hidden away, and I wound up way off course. Paris quickly redeemed itself by dropping a Paul in my way though, and I gorged myself on crack in tarte form. On the walk home, I took a detour down the Seine and, wondering what the big cathedral-looking thing over the bridge was, ended up at Notre Dame. The magnitude of the place is dumb-founding, especially when you look closely at the level of detail...every inch of the church is worked or ornamented in some way, without distracting from the impact of the building as a whole.
After the requisite pickling later that night (ritual is important too), we hit the sack to rest up for the spectacle Nick had lined up for us the next day. It's almost impossible to put into words how fuckin' cool that tour was. The sights were amazing, the tour guide was cute, and the day was beautiful, but the act of riding that gyro-balanced, 12 km/hr piece of pure techno-lust was complete madness. If Nick ever gets around to posting any of the pictures from the tour, you'll see the supremely self-satisfied grins on our faces as we stood on the HTs with hoards of Parisians staring at the freakish Scooter Gods in their midst. Fucking stellar.
That afternoon, we went to the Rodin Museum, saw the Thinker, and took a truly pretentious snap of Yours Truly with the Gates of Hell. They're both outdoors, and the Gates are so detailed that telescopes are provided to view them properly from ground level.
To cap off what may very well turn out to be the best day of my twenty-fourth year, we went to La Petite Chaise for what turned out to be a contender for the Best Meal Ever. Escargot to start, followed by onion soup, and a poached salmon main that was so incredible I didn't even think to write down what it was, all served with the only white wine I've ever enjoyed, with crème brûlée and a strawberry torte for dessert, preceded by a glass of amazing cognac. Pleasantly sated without being overfilled, pleasantly buzzed without being drunk, we wandered back to the hostel in a stunned daze, wondering what possible excuse we could give for not living like this full-time.
An auspicious start to what looks to be banner year. 24 may not turn out to be the best year of my life, but it'll sure as hell be memorable.

For once, I really do feel bad for not posting.
The short version: I'm in London. It's a polluted urban masterwork. I wish I had a home to be sick for.
More soon, I promise.