j'adore by dior.

learn to stop.
learn to say no.

learn to leave.

learn to say good bye.

sunday, monday, tuesday.

night.

can't figure it out. what happened? why was i there?how did it all happen? how come i got two cats now? how did that happen?

how come i was there during his last night?

walking, walking, laughing, smoking, drinking, walking, talking, laughing...

how come i could stand talking to him, knowing he wasn't even looking at me, not even listening.

how could i stay...be there, knowing i was being ignored?

was this what lay accross the mirror? so is it his world, down there, in the rabbit hole?

madness, madness,burnt landmarks, just a downward spiral of events and words making me laugh for i did not want to cry, just a colourful fogg of attitudes and directions: madness, madness, what the fuck am i doing here? just an emotional rollercoaster: up then down, up then down, curve to the left, curve to the right, up and then slide down, fast, faster, faster: how long can you keep up?take it like a slap in the face, every time you think it wasn't supposed to happen. you put yourself in this situation. now shut up and take it. you deserve it.

then the jealousy, strawberries, the questions, the doubts, my hands, my hands.

perfume.

everything.

nonsense.

no sense.

no meaning.

no ... bone structure for all this.

can't understand. maybe there's nothing to understand.

just facts. and the love - what love? for whom? for what? just waste.

and i'm not even sad. just drained out.

symboles, elements, definitions, citations

21. 2+1=3

22. 2+2=4

nouveau symbole. 4. stabilite, terre, perfection.

mes mains tremblent. la terre-4 tremble. je suis un seisme.

===================================================

mes mains, mes mains. amorties, bloquees. fais un effort, continue a taper, a gratter les memes cicatrices, a tracer les memes traits d'eyeliner vert (comme ca tu verras vert, mieux, clair, sincerement, douloureusement. verde-n fata).

mon dos, mon dos. mes vertebres a noeuds.

mon cou.

ma tete: cheveux qui s'electrisent, un peu desseches; ma tete dans le brouillard;

mes yeux - a cernes cachees, gonfles, profonds, couleur marecage; c'est mon regard qui trahit mes cicatrices. heureusement on a invente le mascara colore, ca inverse les contrastes.

porter du rouge: cacher l'insecurite, masquer le manque de confiance en soi, feindre l'invulnerabilite par des repliques crues, piquantes, seches, des sousentendus, des rappels subliminaux.

l'appeler: feindre l'amitie. pour qu'il voye que c'est un mensonge. que c'est pas possible. ca n'existe pas. etre gentille, pour qu'il se souvienne du mal qu'il a fait.

feindre: se donner en spectacle. se faire mirage. mettre le masque et dire que c'est mon vrai visage.

===================================================

ceci est pour ceux qui ont su voir au dela de ce que je leur montre.

ceci est pour ceux qui ont cherche a comprendre au dela de mes mots.

ceci est pour ceux qui n'ont pas eu peur de cette prise de tete que je suis.

ceci est pour ceux qui ont tout pris et on choisi de garder, et non pas d'ecraser.

ceci est pour ceux qui ne fuyent pas.

for we only accept the love we think we deserve.

====================================================

and this:

"Don't be reckless with other people's hearts. Don't put up with people who are reckless with yours."

"The opposite of love is not hate, it's indifference."

A friend is someone who knows all about you and still loves you."

Always forgive your enemies; nothing annoys them so much."

I've learned that people will forget what you said, people will forget what you did, but people will never forget how you made them feel." — Maya Angelou

"Being deeply loved by someone gives you strength, while loving someone deeply gives you courage." — Lao Tzu

"Love is that condition in which the happiness of another person is essential to your own." — Robert A. Heinlein

Have you ever been in love? Horrible isn't it? It makes you so vulnerable. It opens your chest and it opens up your heart and it means that someone can get inside you and mess you up."

— Neil Gaiman (The Sandman Vol. 9: The Kindly Ones)

I love you without knowing how, or when, or from where. I love you straightforwardly, without complexities or pride; so I love you because I know no other way." — Pablo Neruda (100 Love Sonnets/Cien Sonetos De Amor

...we accept the love we think we deserve." — Stephen Chbosky

One good thing about music, when it hits you, you feel no pain.— Bob Marley

Love anything and your heart will be wrung and possibly broken. If you want to make sure of keeping it intact you must give it to no one, not even an animal. Wrap it carefully round with hobbies and little luxuries; avoid all entanglements. Lock it up safe in the casket or coffin of your selfishness. But in that casket, safe, dark, motionless, airless, it will change. It will not be broken; it will become unbreakable, impenetrable, irredeemable. To love is to be vulnerable." — C.S. Lewis

Happiness in intelligent people is the rarest thing I know.— Ernest Hemingway

Never go to bed mad. Stay up and fight.— Phyllis Diller

"A wise girl kisses but doesn't love, listens but doesn't believe, and leaves before she is left.— Marilyn Monroe

"Love is an irresistible desire to be irresistibly desired." — Robert Frost

The heart was made to be broken.— Oscar Wilde

Numbing the pain for a while will make it worse when you finally feel it." — J.K. Rowling

Everything was beautiful and nothing hurt.— Kurt Vonnegut

Love is not affectionate feeling, but a steady wish for the loved person's ultimate good as far as it can be obtained.— C.S. Lewis

"Every woman is a rebel." — Oscar Wilde

To fear love is to fear life, and those who fear life are already 3-parts dead.— Bertrand Russell

"What I want is to be needed. What I need is to be indispensable to somebody. Who I need is somebody that will eat up all my free time, my ego, my attention. Somebody addicted to me. A mutual addiction." — Chuck Palahniuk

what facebook tests say about me...:summer is good.

and all this because i was born in July.
...summer is good, summer is true. summer is me.

* good company/Agréable compagnie
* secretive/Secrete
* not easy to understand, hard time making herself understood/Difficile à comprendre et difficile de se faire comprendre
* usually calm, unless tense or excited/Calme sauf si excitée ou tendue
* proud of herself/Fiere de toi-même
* quite concerned when it comes to her reputation/Fait attention à ta réputation
* easily comforted/Facilement réconfortée
* honest/Honnête
* attentionate to other people's feelings/Attentif aux sentiments de ton entourage
* tactful/Sait faire preuve de tact
* friendly/Amicale
* open, open minded/Accessible
* very emotive/Très émotive
* unpredictable/Tempérament imprévisible
* somewhat depressed/depressive; easily hurt/Déprimée et facilement blessée
* witty and sarcastic/Pleine d´esprit et sarcastique
* sentimental/Sentimentale
* doesn't care much about vengeance/Pas vengeuse
* forgives, but never forgets/Pardonne mais n´oublie jamais
* hates absurd, useless things (hmmm)/Déteste l’absurde et les choses inutiles
* tends to guide others, physically as well as mentally/Guide les autres physiquement et mentalement
* sensitive/Sensible
* loving/Aimante
* fair with people/Traite les autres équitablement
* strong sense of sympathy, empathy./Sens fort de la sympathie
* Circonspect et pointue/
* judges others through observation/Juge les gens en les observant
* fast, easy learner/Aucune difficulté pour étudier
* likes being alone (sometimes)/Aime être seule
* always brings out the past and old friends/Ressasse toujours le passé et les vieux amis
* likes being..tranquil, in calm environments/Aime être tranquille
* simple/Personne simple
* ????/ Attends des amis [???]
* doesn't try making firends/ Ne cherche jamais à se faire des amis
* not agressive - unless provoked/ Non agressive à moins d’être provoquée
* loves to be loved/ Aime être aimée
* easily hurt - takes a long time to recover/ Facilement blessée et prend longtemps pour récupérer
* excessively concerned/worried? /Excessivement concernée
* not afraid to put in a lot of hard work and those extra hours/ Met de l´effort dans le travail

Nuevas Palabras.

ñorda
agilipollao
chancho
tarado
chorra
tiene un morro que se lo pisa
ser petardo
cabrón
mamón
capullo
giliflautas
haragan
aguafiestas
pajolero
pendejo

ah, sans oublier la dédicace, bien sûr...

Welcome to my nightmare.

Welcome to my nightmare
I think you're gonna like it
I think you're gonna feel... you belong
A nocturnal vacation
Unnecessary sedation
You want to feel at home 'cause you belong

Welcome to my nightmare
Welcome to my breakdown
I hope I didn't scare you
That's just the way we are when we come down
We sweat and laugh and scream here
'cuz life is just a dream here
You know inside you feel right at home here

Welcome to my breakdown
Whoa
You're welcome to my nightmare
Yeah

Welcome to my nightmare
I think you're gonna like it
I think you're gonna feel... you belong
We sweat laugh and scream here
'cuz life is just a dream here
You know inside you feel right at home here
Welcome to my nightmare
Welcome to my breakdown
Yeah

Les Ecorches Vifs

quiero verte para golpearte.hola.
quiero verte para que sientas lo que senti yo.que tal.


Emmène-moi danser
Dans les dessous
Des villes en folie
Puisqu'il y a dans ces endroits
Autant de songes
Que quand on dort
Mais on n'dort pas
Alors autant se tordre
Ici et là
Et se rejoindre en bas
Puisqu'on se lasse de tout
Pourquoi nous entrelaçons-nous ?

Pour les écorchés vifs
On en a des sévices

Allez enfouis-moi
Passe-moi par dessus tous les bords
Mais reste encore un peu après
Que même la fin soit terminée
Moi j'ai pas allumé la mèche
C'est Lautréamont
Qui me presse
Dans les déserts
Là où il prêche
Ou devant rien
On donne la messe.
Pour les écorchés
Serre-moi encore
Étouffe-moi si tu peux
Toi qui sais où
Après une subtile esquisse
On a enfoncé les vis...

Nous les écorchés vifs
On en a des sévices.

Oh mais non rien de grave
Y a nos hématomes crochus qui nous sauvent
Et tous nos points communs
Dans les dents
Nos lambeaux de peau
Qu'on retrouve ça et là
Dans tous les coins
Ne cesse pas de trembler
C'est comme ça que je te reconnais
Même s'il vaut beaucoup mieux pour toi
Que tu trembles un peu moins que moi.
Emmene-moi, emmene-moi
On doit pouvoir
Se rendre écarlates
Et même
Si on précipite
On devrait voir
White light white heat
Allez enfouis-moi
Passe-moi par dessus tous les bords
Encore un effort
On sera de nouveau
Calmes et tranquilles
Calmes et tranquilles
Serre-moi encore
Serre-moi encore
Etouffe-moi si tu peux...
Serre-moi encore

Nous les écorchés vifs
On en a des sévices

Nous les écorchés
On en a des sévices
Nous les écorchés
On en a des sévices
Les écorchés vifs
On les sent les vis
Nous les écorchés
On en a des sévices
Les écorchés vifs

heal.pretend.smile.

sana que sana
colita de rana
si no sanas hoy

sanaras manana.

que llueva que llueva
la luna esta en la cueva
los pajaritos cantan
la luna se levanta
que si
que no
que caiga un chaparron

sol solecito
calentame un poquito
hoy y manana
y toda la semana

luna lunera
cinco pollitos
y una ternera

caracol caracol
saca tus cuernos al sol.

N

"c'est fini"
sur la route - jack kerouac
couteau suisse
bracelet

recuperer une direction
ir hacia el sur,el sur, el sur
je te dirai ce que tu veux entendre, gatito
pa' que no tengas mala conciencia
je vais mieux
j'ai de moins en moins mal
non
je n'ai plus mal
y si estoy escuchando a chavela vargas, es para asgurarme que todo fue mentira
a lo mejor nunca te ame
no lloro, palomita negra
je ne languis plus de te voir, que tu me voyes
je ne desire plus tes mains dans mes cheveux, ni ton corps dans mon lit
ni ta voix, ni ton sourire crepu, pisoi
tu n'es pas une merveille
juste un idifferent, gatito mio
vete hacia el sur el sur el sur el sur
sol solecito, calentame un poquito
je vais mieux pour ta bonne conscience
c'etait rien, juste un petit mal de tete qui passe en quelques minutes
nurofen ia durerea cu mana
si nu e mana ta, pisoi
mana ta ma doare,pisoi
si agenda mea e plina,n-am sa vin maine, nu vreau, nu vreau nu vreau

acum poti inceta sa gandesti in locul meu, pacalindu-te ca stii tu mai bine ce e o idee bun si ce nu
acum poti inceta sa crezi ca as traversa parisul sa te vad - cat orgoliu
acum poti inceta sa-ti mai fie teama ca am sa sar pe tine
nu te voi inghiti pe nemesetecate
nu-ti fie teama, pisoi
nu-mi mai datorezi nimic. nu ai nici o responsabilitate
in afara de cea de a-mi fi spulberat lacrimile pe o masa de restaurant
aproape de opera; sper ca ai sters masa aceea bine, ca ai frecat harnic.

ma intrebi cum pot sa fiu eu, cand stiu ce stiu si nu vreau sa cred
fiindca acum nu mai sunt eu.
multumesc, m-ai invatat sa fiu trista.
pam pam.

the day's most recent obsession

this is no draft.
enjoy: yep yep i'm goin' crazy and 've been listening to this for at least 20 hours in a loud fucking loop.
HA!

comment dire?

mais qu'est-ce que je fous la?

ce n'est que quand j'ai failli me faire ecraser par une moto en plein passage pietons que je me suis rendue compte que le feu etait rouge et qu'il y avait tout un monde autour de moi, pas seulement une sorte de platanes flottants et un tapis roulant en bitum.

de toute facon, depuis trois jours, chaque fois que je prends le bus ou que le metro sort en surface, j'ai l'impression que je vis dans une ville en carton. une immense et interminable maison de poupee, a chaque coup disproportionnee ( soit trop grand, soit trop petit). avec un grand tuyau d'eau au milieu.

d'ailleurs, la surprise d'une catastrophe possible, mais evitee par l'attention du motard, ca m'a fait un effet bizarre de - vas-y, marche plus vite, on va rentrer, c'est fou ici. 

je ressentais chaque pas comme une agression de plus, je me sentais de plus en plus mefiante.

aussi -  ce fut comme une sorte de cassure dans l'engrenage (je marche, je reflechis, gauche, droit, gauche, droit, rythme soutenu), une sorte de "putain - mais je suis la sans etre la, qu'est-ce qui se passe?" - un peu comme quand tu te reveilles en plein milieu d'un reve - ou un reveil tres brusque tout court. et puis - allez, plus vite, faut se barrer d'ici.

or cette ville en carton - on dirait que chaque foisqu'il pleut, ca va s'ecrouler, ou se tremper jusqu'aux os - euh poutres - , puis secher et s'onduler comme du papier que quelqu'un aurait mis sur un radiateur a secher, puisque c'etait un document utile.

mais aujourd'hui il a fait beau.

I was falling asleep when I realized I was smiling.

I was warm and fuzzy

But the music was too loud, so I turned it down a bit.

back to warm and fuzzy.

that's all.

this is not a party blog

We always pout about the americans for having exported such shallow holidays as halloween and st valentine's day - but france is quite keen on another not-so-national holiday, wich has the advantage of giving an excuse for another get-drunk-party, by celebrating the 17th of march as the day that a certain patrick (patty for friends) brought the true faith of catholicism to Ireland.

Green lepercauns and Guiness are hence the leitmotifs of the day - the evening actually.

So last tuesday, i went to such a party with some friends. had a few "half-pints" (something that you can only have in france, as the Irish or other true beer drinking nations would consider that blasphemy, that and the grenadine or peach syrup poured into beer), one or two sips of whiskey and then, as every french party goes, went to someone's place, to keep partying with leftover sangria and orange juice. French songs were sung, cigarettes  and spliffs were smoked, and tantrums were had by a tipsy and snappy when tipsy host.

But that's not the point. there was a guy there, that one of my friends brought to this party some time later. he'd just met him. 

Young, black, cute,dreadlocks, quiet, dressed in black, no-drinker, and huge fan of bob marley's "bad boys".  he's alomost 21, born august 23rd, half virgo, half leo, came from gouadeloupe four years ago and had some bad stuff going on. so ended up in the street. he used to stay with some old-school punksaround bastille for a while, but now he'd rather be by himself. his best friend is 51 and did some jail-time. 

He showed me some rap songs he had written about his world, his life. he had written them in his native creole, full of jamaican slang- so he had to litteraly translate them to me. we talked for hours.

[there's depeche mode's wrong airing on the radio - somehow, it fits more than anything i can say]

Anyhow, meeting him really had me thinking annd saying sorry every five minutes.

Why? because when you meet people like this, and see they're living a life you've only seen in documentaries or from up your ivory tower, a life you have a million stereotypes about, a life you fear as much as you fear the people who are living it, from the safety and abundance of your calm, university-going intellectual appartment.

Somehow, saying to someone like this that your fridge is empty and you have to go buy some groceries puts things into a very fucked-up perspective. 

so i was sorry. not so much for him (he seemed to take care of himself quite well and he was quite aware of his situation, he wanted out of it, he had plans as to how to do that, he'd stopped dealing and stealing for a while now and he almost died some time ago. the ambulance people hadn't noticed him, as some cars were burning in aparking lot). I was sorry  for my taking things for granted. for a kind of insensibility, of unawareness or...way of saying things to him (although i'm not sure if i was just imagining that, or if he actually noticed that). he said i was funny and made him laugh.

I mean, what the fuck do i have the right and justice to complain about?

strasbourg, strasbourg

ok, j'suis a strasbourg. 

il est 11h23 et je prends mon cafe-jus d'orange dans petit bar rockeur pres des facs. 

mfk, 3 rue de l'abruvoir. bus 30, arret kruetenau ou cite administrative.

 il me reste 45 minutes de batterie sur mon ordi.

quand j'suis arrivee c'etait ferme. puis apres la fille a ouvert, a descendu des tabourets expres pour moi. ac/dc dans les haut-parleurs. le bonheur. puis apres, odeur de produit pour les sols (l'odeur de propre, clean, curat de la societe de consommation) et les doors. encore, le bonheur. on a parle des jeunes qui ne vont pas au musee, de la culture pour tous, des bistros tellement pas rock a paris, de son bar a elle ou il y a des fois des concerts. et du fait que je suis trooop contente de l'avoir trouve ce pti bar pas comme les autres. yeah.

des mini pochoirs avec des cranes flottants sur les murs. rock'n'roll man.

ca rappelle des bons souvenirs d'ete.

et le pire, c'est que je porte un pull rose. mais vraiment rose.

lookin like a groupie. and there's no band. lol.

strasbourg - naaan, mais j'adooore.

(photos should be uploaded quite soon. i hope.)

like an urge to do stuff

m'kay, got itchy hands t'day. and can pathetically feel some glimpse of inner peace, yeah.

yeah, that bad.

no, no butterflies in my stomach kind of reason, just - the holidays i guess. - well, there was a such a reason, but that's like soooo two weeks ago.  and then there was venice. but it's still not that.

just itchy hands, some kind of positive nervousness (yes, that exists), some fear of the future (really, i'm clueless) but altogether, a great feeling of accomplishment coming out of : ikea diy.

yes, i just reassembled one of last year's trestles and made myself a...prolongement (?!?!) of my long suffering table. some of my books feel better (my flat is a meritocracy), my router catches dust from much higher(social evolution?), my diary is happy at last (because it's new, for now), my ashtray not in the way anymore.

and i feel like doing stuff ( no, not the dishes, i mean it)

and yeah, i don't only have bad days

and writing in english ( as this blog-thing-whatever is kinda messy language-wise) kind of keeps me away of any depressive draught - which, despite what some may think, is a good thing.

yeah, shit happens, what can i say.

(*getting back to the tudors --- errr jonathan rhys meyers*)

Venezia, forevermore

I was in Venice last week. I was happy and calm last week.

details

light  - soft, strong, golden, revealing venitian light

colours

bridges

salty, humid air

green, algae, water - sea.

street lamps.

serenissima.

to be continued.

how to do your dishes like a passive-agressive maniac.

step one : 

take all your dishes out of the sink. put them on the counter.

step two:  

take the biggest bowl/pan you have to wash, put in all cutlery, forks, spoons and such.

step three: 

continue sorting: glasses go with glasses, mugs with mugs, cups with cups, bowls with bowls, plates with plates and so on and so forth. 

/!\ for expert maniacs only: you cand create sub-categories - desert plates, big bowls, small bowls wine glasses, forks etc, it all depends on the quantity of dishes to be washed.

step four: 

start with a category. plates for example. wash them one by one; put the back into the sink as you wash each plate.

step five: 

rinse your plates.

step six: 

put them to dry on a kitchen towel you have specifically spread over the counter.

step seven: 

continue,slowly and attentively, dish-category by dish-category, until you're done.

what's the use, you may ask...: PROCRASTINATION!

now go do you dishes little snowflakes, 

time is not on your side, it is against you.

so kill it.

things to write about

crisis as a state of normality. how does a state of crisis become the new normal order of one's life. how and when does this happen. can it still be called a crisis.does it end, if ever, and how.is one aware of it. does that change anything. does it have a meaning, while being normal.

crisis as a state of me.another ego-centered piece of writing trying to figure myself out. if possible. am i in crisis or is crisis in me. is there any way out. should there be a way out. does is all mean anything. should it. does it need to. do i need it to. is that good. where will/would it all lead to.can/should i overcome this.is it meant to be.

crisis as a sign of life.crisis as a painful, thus proof of being, experience.if crisis is chaos, then there is something that chaos can come upon. if chaos is what life should not be, then crisis is a negation, thus implies what is/should be. all negation is an affirmation of something else.truth lies in things that hurt. crisis hurts. 

crisis as a state of transition.pending ideas.

la crise et le cri.just how many things can one pull off from a silly game upon words.

exhibition reviews and analysis

venus in furs review.vendredi 13 fevrier 2009: apollon le devorateur.

hopes dreams and aspirations: still there?exactly that.

eloge de la souffrance pending project

schiele, bacon, l. freud, soutine. when flesh becomes meat, and it hurts.

anthropomorphic landscapes. it is all in the details.

grocery list.buy fruits(apples, cherries, oranges, grapes), milk, vegetables(tomatoes, potatoes, salad,broccoli, brussels sprouts), cheese, sour cream, bread, bread crumbs,orange juice,wine. and then let it all rot in the fridge and have some cornflakes instead.

to do list. wake up, brush you teeth, have a shower, have a coffee, do stuff, go places, sleep, sleep, sleep, think, sleep again, call your mom,complain about stuff, sleep again. lose this list and do nothing instead.

lists list.make lists of all things, categorizing everything by subject, cost, time needed, number of pages/words/characters/people involved. then make a list of all the lists, put it somewhere,somehow manage to lose it so you won't find the other lists. and start again.

ok

here we go

light a cig'

turn the music on. free jazz. freeing jazz. free strange jazz. all that jazz. all is jazz. with bagbipes. odd, some might say, but then again, whatever takes the edge off.

it screams, and it cries, and it makes you feel unstable. yes, unstable, like kind of drunk-state-of-the-art unstable, tripping against chairs and getting bruises without even knowing and ignoring it. that kind.

but still happy free jazz, that gets you smiling all of a sudden, because of all of those sounds that you hadn't imagined to come out of a saxophone. happy, because it's surprising, and  if there are any real incurable diseases, curiosity is one of them [forget about the cat]. and there's no better trip for curious people, than a well diserved surprise. and bagpipe, free-jazz.

"Bagpipes are the only instrument that could scare off an electric guitar", as Van Morrison would put it.

oh, g.l.o.r.i.a.

enjoy:)

Discover Niou Bardophones!