Recovering from my move in early June, I hardly went out at all. I stayed at home, sleeping and nesting. When EB called with an invite to the infamous boat parties on a private peniche docked on the Seine, I had been in bed for a few hours and had to regretfully decline. Even had I been able to get dressed, there was no way I could have danced with them until dawn. Apparently, the party ended with an illegal dip in the Seine.

So I've been missing out on a few parties. But this week made up for it in droves. Monday night E invited me to Antonio Segui's one-man show opening at the Centre Pompidou. She made a film about him, and so she got a personal invite to his show. He was nice but didn't have much to say to me. And I didn't have much to say to him either besides the usual compliments.

Wednesday night I went to a colloquium held in conjunction with Africa Remix, also at the Centre Pompidou. The conversation heated up after Professor Elvan Zabunyan at Rennes critiqued the exhibit's out-of-date geographical focus and logic. Two artists from the show who were not on the stage but in the audience wholeheartedly agreed with her. I wanted to make a comment but the moderators hardly allowed any audience member to speak, instead focusing a lot on Simon Niami, the curator of the show, who was put in the position to defend personally all the faults of the show: colonialist logic, lack of post-colonial consciousness in France, why the art world sucks. When the moderators tried to develop more range, asking Mai Adu El Dahab what she thought as an Egyptian curator, she threw the question right back at them, claiming that she knew that she was here to represent Egypt and not herself. So she wasn't even sure how to respond.

Afterwards, E and I met up with the artists she knew and went with some of the speakers to Cafe Beaubourg. I chatted a bit with Niami, when he told me that Zabunyan actually warned him of her critiques before the colloquium. He knew what was coming and didn't want to speak at all, but this is part of the 'game', as Ntone Edjabe put it. Ntone is a DJ and writer as well as publisher of the S African magazine Chimurenga, which translates to 'struggle'. With both of us being outsiders in France, we got a good talk going about why France has no colonial memory. Claire, a French metisse, finally explained to me why my friends of color in Paris refer to themselves 'black' and not 'noirs': France is so supposedly color-blind as a country that to hear color applied to people is shocking, practically unthinkable. 'Black' a la americain is even kinda cool, but 'noir', now that's not somewhere the French want to go. The conversation was good; we stayed there until the lights turned on.

Thursday I went back for even more fun. When I arrived, I couldn't find E. But I find Alexis, a classmate from my undergraduate years. She is here as her mentor Achille Mbembe is giving a talk. We first went up to the cafe in the museum but as they didn't serve drinks, we ended up at Cafe Beaubourg...again. When we arrived, the artists and curators were already esconced at the tables we were last night. I followed my curiosity and went with the academics to the outside terrace: besides Mbembe and Alexis, there were four other professors/PhD candidates in this party. Eventually, I went around to the artists' tables and scandalized the two artists I met that I hadbn't even seen their show yet! I told them that I was just here to have fun...

The night ended with an amazing talk with Orlando Britto, basically telling me that the art world is not ideal, that you suffer in it while you're young, don't think people are your friends just because you drink and party with them, don't take the shit, and always be positive. I feel like he is one wise, nice man.

So after Monday, Wednesday, and Thursday socializing around the Centre Pompidou, I need to give myself a rest. Nontheless, this past week just confirmed my desire to stay in the area.