– hey…
– hey.
– i know it’s kinda late…but felt like callin’…
– good to hear ya.
– how’re ya ?
– fine, yeah…uh, fine. ya ?
– good too here…hm..yeah, good.
– …
– so..uh…what up ?
– dunno. stuff. y’know, the usual. i guess. ya ?
– huh, work y’know. and-uh, yeah, kinda the same…actually.
– yeah… i see.
– am i…disturbin’ ?
– no no, *chuckle* not at all…’s’ok.
– good. i know it’s late…but…i just felt huh…
– …like callin’…?
– *chuckle* yeah. hope i ain’t botherin’ too much with my curiosity, y’know…
– *laugh* no, guess it wouldn’t be like you, eh ?
– *laugh* no. guess not. but you don’t say much anyway, do ya ?
– hmm…no. not really.
– …
– …but what can i say, huh ?
– dunno. whatever. watcha wanna tell ?
– uh. dunno…i’m worn out…
– how’s that ?
– dunno…just worn out…exhausted…it’s all – uh – hard to tell, dunno really how i feel…’f’you wanna know the truth…
– hmm…y’never know how ya feel…
– yeah.
– …
– and-uh…y’know, the balance, ‘s’hard to keep it, keep control, y’know, that balance…
– i see…yeah…your extremes…
– yeah…’s’funny though…cuz-uh…i don’t really think ’bout it, most of the times, ‘s’just the way i get by, y’know…uh…’s’not that it keeps me awake or anythin’, but-uh…*sigh*
– …
– yeah…feels like, huh…dunno…’m’on the verge of somethin’…
– like what ?…
– like i dunno…
– like what ??
– dunno like what…y’ask, ‘n i’m tryin’ to think…
– think ’bout what ?
– ev’rythin’…ev’rythin’ i possibly can…y’know, it all bounce in my head, ‘n mix up, ‘n-uh…
– ‘n it scares ya huh ?
– yeah…pretty much…’s’not so much a matter of bein’ scared, y’know, but-uh…’s’just how to keep control of it…direct it…
– why d’ya wanna be in control all the times ?
– huh…dunno…guess i fear not bein’ in control of my fear…*chuckle*
– …’t’least it makes ya laugh…
– *chuckle* yeah…guess it’s gotta make someone laugh ’bout it…
– …
– …
– ‘n what else ?
– huh…’t’d be too long to tell ya…
– got time…
– *sigh* dunno what else…not sure i wanna tell ya all…’m’so tired most of the times…so tired…
– ‘f’what ?
– ‘f’bein’ tired i guess…
– y’should sleep…
– yeah…guess i should…
– …
– … guess i should sleep for a hundred years, y’know, ‘n wake up ‘n start it all over again…huh…like fresh…like new… dunno…
– but you can’t…
– no…
– …
– i can’t do that…*sigh*
– …so ?…
– huh…dunno…i empty my head anyway i can, y’know…feels good enough for now…
– yeah…i know the feelin’…
– been here before, eh ?
– yeah…like you…
– yeah, like me…
– ‘xcept y’know where you’re goin’, right ?
– yeah…maybe…maybe i know…huh…but-uh… watcha do when…when y’ve got but a week to grow up ?… like-uh… dunno, last week of-uh… bein’ like the someone you been livin’ with for like…all your life ?…
– huh…guess i can’t give ya any answer…’s’your call to figure that out…
– *sigh*
– think y’lose yourself in the process ?
– dunno…’s’just that-uh… feel pretty much irresponsible ‘n…uncapable…
– ‘f’what ?
– ‘f’ev’rythin’…can’t learn to take care ‘f’myself in ’bout a week, right ?
– ‘n how ya lived until now ?
– …huh…don’t ask me…*chuckle*
– y’ll be fine…
– yeah yeah…like i always am…
– no…you will be fine, i mean it.
– thanks…
– ya should get some sleep…i’ll leave ya now.
– yeah…thanks…
– promise you will.
– can’t do that. but-uh… can try maybe…
– *sigh* fair enough…
– …
– talk to ya soon ?
– not too soon…
– okay… whenever…
– yeah…whenever it’s late enough…
– uh…sweet dreams then…
– won’t wanna wake up if it’s too sweet…
– try to breathe, sometimes…
– i will…
– bye…
– bye.

If I could trace the lines that ran
Between your smile and your sleight of hand
I would guess that you put something up my sleeve

i’m sad tonight.
it’s a melancholic sadness, that melts within sights into something bright and happy.

as usual in those mellow times, i find a new song to discover and soak into, and tonight it’s josh ritter. i feel the music resonate in my head until it flows naturally through my silent breath.

From the hills and up behind, my town
is naked from the horizon down

i have finished my first notepad tonight, some minutes ago. i look at it, and i can watch all the time that i’ve spent filling it with my small pictures. it feels heavy, the weight of thoughts and images that i’ve captured almost by mistake. it’s my notepad, but it isn’t my own. my pictures are mine, but the images don’t feel like they belong to me. i don’t know why it is that way.

We walked up in the fields alone
And the silence fell just like a stone
That got lost in the wild blue and the gravel grey

it is said that bruce chatwin had the same kind of notepad, and he said that he didn’t mind losing his passport but that losing his notepad would seem like a catastrophe.
i think i can understand that, now.
i think i would like to pick the address of somebody unknown, anywhere in the world, and send it to this stranger, this unknown person.
i think i would like to make a whole collection of similar notepads full of images and offer them as a gift, it isn’t really that those notepads would worth much, just that maybe, making them and having them has a meaning of some sort, something that i’ll never be able to find, something that i’ll never be able to see by myself…

come and find me, now…

it feels sad that my notepads will end up on a shelf or in a box, eventually, because i can carry but one at a time in my bag.
and maybe i’ll be old and i’ll have boxes and boxes full of those notepads, and maybe someday i’ll die, and maybe the boxes will get lost, and maybe by then the pictures will have faded out, and maybe nobody will be able to decipher my poor handwriting…
and maybe making them is vain, if you think in terms of lifetimes and time that brings everything down, but maybe i’ll keep doing what i’m doing because it has a purpose i may discover only one second before i die, you never know…

Though I’m here in this far off place
My air is not this time and space

i believe that some people would consider my notepads beautiful, this isn’t an illusion, i’ve heard their thoughts, and i’ve seen the looks in their eyes, yet, it’s so ephemeral, like all beauty should be, it doesn’t have any purpose, like all beauty shouldn’t have, and maybe it doesn’t have to have any meaning…

you don’t know it’s right until it’s wrong
You don’t know it’s yours until it’s gone

i open it on the first page, and i’m face to face with the remnants of last summer evaporating slowly in the soft air…everytime i open it, the images of my thens distillate themselves into the smells of my nows, it’s a slow death, memories trying to escape from the spaces that we allow them to take.

come and find me, now…

my new notepad looks thin, flat and boring. but i know i have already new pictures to feed it with. how to stop once you’ve started to feel comfortable only with a notepad full of your head ?
maybe i’m sad because i’m leaving a small part of myself in this finished notepad…

I keep you in a flower vase
With your fatalism and your crooked face
With the daisies and the violet brocades

i’m not sure why the end of this notepad bothers me that way, and leaves me with a sort of helplessness that i can’t seem to understand.
i should feel happy to start a new one, and i do. but i don’t think that it’s much of a coincidence that my very first notepad is finished approximately when i’m leaving my comfortable job for my great dive into the unknown…

Hoping you will come and untangle me one of these days…
come and find me, now…

…and i’m beginning to wonder if one lifetime is about enough to figure shit out…

i know, i know, you guys all wanted to come to see my exhibition last week.
i know, i know, none of you could.
i know, i know, you were all busy and all while the most interesting event of the week occured and it’s not your fault.
that’s why i’ve put the pictures on my website tonight.

but i’m warnin’ ya, i’ll be waiting for y’all next time i make an exhibition in the toilets of a nightclub, better be there !
:D

possibly, about 99,99% of the people who went to Pink’s show in paris bercy tonight would consider that it was :
– damn great
– whooo sooo sexxxy (and that would be meant as an understatement)
– amazing
– a blast
– an hour and a half of intense fun
– just awe-some !

but if you ask me, i’d say honestly that it was probably cute, and indeniably funny.
and maybe, that’s just what it was supposed to be. cute and funny.
cute, like…when six years old kids act in school plays, you know, you watch and you can’t help but smile, because it’s cute, because you know they’ve worked on it and are doing their best…
and funny, like…some dirty joke about blondes. it’s tasteless and second degree, so you can’t help but laugh.

i know i’m being a brat here, because the ticket for the show was a birthday present from my best friends, but i love good music and shows too much to avoid being honest about it.

ok. so the show in itself wasn’t bad technically speaking, there were musicians, and they were pretty good, and there were three dancers who were simply gorgeous, and another singer who wasn’t bad, and the lights were pretty much okay too, and the show direction was energetic enough to avoid complete boredom…ok. i’ll give credit for that.

the thing is that musically speaking, it’s bullshit. i knew a few songs from both albums already, and they didn’t bother me too much, so i thought that maybe it could get interesting on stage.
honest, it was something between worse and really worse. it’s just always the same. so since i couldn’t really enjoy the music, cause there was nothing interesting to listen to, i looked attentively at the show in itself, the stage lights and decorations, the dancers, the make-ups and costumes, and all this kind of stuff, except that when you’re in the middle of a hysterical crowd, it’s hard to see anything and detach yourself from everything.
so i watched.
clinically.
a bit like a scientist would study the mechanisms of the sexual parade of strange birds species.
or like a scientist looking at an ovula and a spermatozoon with a microscope and thinking whoo-ho, boy, this is getting dirtyyyy, when pink sang trouble, dancing with her dancers lasciviously in bras and strings, just like they were about to have sex on bercy’s stage in front of 10000 people.
but i mean, what the hell is sexy in women that, when they open their legs, you can almost see the bottom of their throat ?
had she asked at the end of the song to those who were turned on to raise a hand, she might have had, for the only time during the whole show, 9999 hands up. she just said on a kinky tone « hey guys, can you still breathe ? »
i just sighed at this point, because the only things that have left completely breatheless during a concert were sarah bettens covering landslide or singing winners, the indigo girls playing starkville, or buck 65 deep voice, or truffaz trumpet…

yeah, yeah, maybe it’s just me, okay, oh-fucking-well.

there is one positive note, though. yeah, there’s one thing that i liked pretty much. around the middle of the show, they closed a curtain and the stage was hidden, a couple a stools were installed at the front and the guitarist came back with an accoustic guitar as Pink started to sing a medley of a few Janis Joplin songs. and THAT has been the only moment when her gorgeous sexy throat voice was able to carry something i would call a hint of emotion, when she looked like maybe, she wasn’t that uninteresting a singer after all, when she could be, sometimes, something else that an ass and tits moving on a stage…

but except that, what to say ? that Pink dressed with a burnt american flag looks just like a potatoe bag ? that yes, she’s fuckable objectively speaking, but what’s attractive in a woman that a bizillion people have seen half naked on tv ? that it wasn’t a concert so to speak, but merely a show, such as those you can see on mtv when you’re really really bored late at night, and that i’m lucky that the ticket was a gift ?

all in all, i didn’t have a bad time, it’s just that as i expected nothing precisely, it would have been great to be nicely surprised, but unfortunately, Pink’s show is like any other show i wouldn’t pay my ticket to go to : photographically funny to consider, but a waste of time, money, energy otherwise.

PAF !
– oh !!! Mobylette !
– Mobylette qui flambe !!
– que faire ? que faire ?
– l’enrouler dans une couverture !?
– j’ai un mouchoir – en papier – ?a ira ?
– et Soiffarde qui a bu le contenu de notre seul extincteur !
– elle ne va pas exploser ?
– on pourrait la jeter par terre…
– oui, on pourrait…
– doucement…
– qu’?-t-il pu se passer ?
– court-circuit ?
– rien ? faire !!
– …et les pompiers qui ne passent que le mercredi !!

(- au moins elle sera cuite avant d’?tre mang?e)

in Le g?nie des alpages, monter descendre ?a glisse pareil. F’murrr.