A public service announcement followed me home the other day.
I paid it nevermind. Go Away.
Shits so thick you could stir it with a stick-free Teflon whitewashed presidency.
We’re sick of being jerked around.
Wear that on your sleeve.

It’s been a bad day…

BAd DAy – REM

today, i went further in robbery.

there’s one rule to follow if you want to be a photographer’s assistant, it’s to never, ever make a better picture than your photographer on the same shooting session (ie : same light, model etc…).
no matter how talented you are. no matter how dumb the assignement the photographer got. no matter what you see. no matter if the photographer is a friend. no matter how cute the model is. no matter if you’re just playing around with your camera. no matter if the photographer is more talented than you. no matter if you don’t do it on purpose.

you just don’t. that’s the basic rule.

but today, i broke it. i didn’t break it on purpose, it just happened.
in the end, i didn’t steal only someone’s attitude and look, i also stole someone’s light and setting, i also stole someone’s model, i stole the picture he should have made, i stole his idea before he became conscious of it, i stole what he intented to do.

i have mixed feelings about that. i feel a bit awkward and guilty : it’s not my assignement, i’m not paid, i’m not The Photographer. yet, he didn’t get angry at me at all, of course, even though he was dead envious, and he was the one asking me to take my camera to make « backstage pictures » and he was only joking when he forbid me to bring it tuesday, and what the hell anyway ? i’m damn proud of my image, i’m damn proud that he should be jealous of me about it.

so i feel like a goddamn skilled thief, who not only stole the diamant from the safe, but also escaped, got suspected too late, and finally got away with it.
yeah, well, depending on which side you are, i’m not someone to trust when it comes to making pictures, my bad.

i’m a thief.

i steal other people’s looks & attitudes & i fix them to make them my own. there’s so much to it.
so much of what i’m not.
so much of what i can neither have, nor give.
so much universality, still.
so much of myself, too.

i’m a thief.
i use other people’s brilliance & talent & beauty to have my pictures radiate with something that was never mine in the first place.
i steal their moments of abandonment to the world, the short unconsciousness of their beings, their poses & smiles, their glances, their thoughts sometimes, even.
i draw the line between them and themselves.
i borrow a part of them for the time of a snapshot, the things that weren’t meant to be seen & noticed, the things that should have vanished.
i capture intimacies & identities & secrecies.
i steal everything. & fix it.
forever.

i’m just a life kleptomaniac who doesn’t want to be cured.
yeah, i’m just a thief.

what a failure.

bon, pour la manif, ce soir.
on fait comme d’hab.
chacun chez soi.

i’m turning the music up a little. until it’s too loud. then i turn it down a little. until i find it right. until i turn it up a little again, because i feel i can’t decipher anything. my ears feel hot. especially the right one, for whatever reason.
(…)
we offered A. a beautiful sexy expensive leather jacket for his b-day tonight. he’s awfully handsome with it, and i think that if he wasn’t the man of my life, i might just fall in love with him.
(…)
i think that i know what i want. i want to steal my friend D.’s idea and project – which involves her and me – and do it on my own. it’s really bad to have that desire, i know, but i want to do it so much that i could just do it on my own. i wouldn’t need her that much, while she really needs me for my abilities.
it would mean travel, far, further, from unknown cities to other unknown cities to discover, it would mean meeting a great deal of people, it would mean make pictures and have a fantastic opportunity to get my work known – if it’s done alright.
but…it isn’t my idea, i’ve got principles, and i made a promise, so i’ll wait until she gets the funds.
and then…there we go.
(…)
and i want something else. i want to take a bag, a camera, my best compilations on MD, and go. leave. fucking go away. with a bag, my camera and something colorful for the rainy days.
i’d watch the sun rise at a different place every morning, and look at the sun slowly going down above the horizon in thousand different ways.
i’d taste the salt of every ocean, i’d taste the sand of every desert, i’d taste the rains on my lips and the suns on my eyes, i’d taste the shooting stars in every sky.
i’d taste like the winds. the calm summer breezes on your skin. the heavy storms in your hair. the freezing gusts in your neck.
i’d be the winds. slow and fast. present and unseizable. elusive like i wish i was. teasing and angry. stubborn and playful. an announcement for rains and suns. a game for clouds and trees.
i’ll take pictures of every step of the way. and if i can’t, i’ll remember every one of them, fix them in my head, just beyond my eyes, and i’ll offer my memories to a different person each night.
i want to have to do nothing but watch and hear, smell and taste and touch. and i want to read and write, and i want to picture and draw, and i want to talk and listen to silence, and i want to think and feel. for real.
it’s so deep it almost hurts. it makes my chest heavy, my head unbearable, my life as it is, a waste of time. i want to leave everything and everyone. fucking go away. leave, leave, leave. even those i love. especially those i love, for fear i’d become addicted to their love, their care, their attentions, their kindness ; for fear that i could never answer properly to their love ; for fear i’d never find out how to love ; as an ultimate proof of my cowardice and selfishness.
is it what i really want ? no emotionnal attach with no one whatsoever ?
screw that. it’s too late. i’m dependant in some way. independant and co-dependant.
i want to leave, just to come back, just to leave again. feel the rhythms of the seasons, the heartbeats of a thousand differents cities. feel like i’m from nowhere and everywhere. be no one and everyone. lose myself and find myself in thousand different places. little bits that i have to gather, like i’m just a part of my true self, and i can’t be complete until i search every place for the other parts. on roads and forests, mountains and cities. whatever.

i want to fucking leave. fly. swim. sail. ride. drive. whatever.

keep me on a leash, keep a close eye on me, you know i only wait for the signal, i only wait for the signs, i only wait for the sun and stars to be in the right position, i only wait for the right time. then, in an eyeblink, i’ll be gone. close your eyes, and open them, and i might be gone in the meantime.
i know that i might. you know that i might.