“pouvez-vous me donner une marche ? suivre pour mettre juliette au piano ? merci”

“souvent dans la journ?e les exercices pour reconna?tre les “dos”. pinpon les pompiers disant les notes sur lesquelles on les fait sur les tons mais pas sur les 1/2 tons (mi-fa et si-do). Elle doit arriver ? corriger ? l’oreille la diff?rence entre les tons et les 1/2 tons. peut trouver sur les touches noires.
Regarder sur la m?thode les notes jou?es.
petit oiseau pour la souplesse du poignet – le poignet ne doit pas bouger.
passage du pouce en remontant puis en descendant.
ensuite mains ensemble gammes 1 octave en sens contraire (2 pouces sur la m?me note pour le d?part)
reflexes vitesse sur le d?but de gamme.
lui faire de grandes port?es o? elle pourra ?crire de grosses notes copi?es sur la m?thode. quand elle pourra reconna?tre le do 3e interligne commencer doucement les morceaux.
les temps au piano doivent ?tre tr?s courts. secouer souvent les mains pour ?viter la crispation la fatigue arrive vite.
commencer les morceaux par des airs de chansons connues – la main droite seule doubl?e par la main gauche si elle le d?sire.
ne pas insister.”

(j’vous avais pas dit, ma grand-m?re ?tait pianiste et cantatrice, sauf qu’elle a abandonn? sa carri?re pour se marier.
et moi, l?, au moment de cette lettre, j’avais 6 ou 7 ans.
dommage que je n’ai pas de scanner, elle avait une belle ?criture.
moralit?, sous la poussi?re, il n’y a pas que des amours meurtries.)

soundtrack : U2 – the ground beneath her feet

i met J. at six, in the hall of my building and that was my first appointment of the day.
she was beautiful, as usual, even though she would make fun of herself for looking still half asleep after an undesired nap. we walked out to buy oriental pastries and have mint tea in the neighbourhood and ended up at the counter of a small bar, and oddly, it seemed to me that we hadn’t seen each other for ages, when in fact, it had just been a couple of weeks.

i said i’ve been staying away to catch my breath, to be able to see again, but i don’t know how plausible it sounds. it doesn’t matter that i think that this is true.
why is it that i feel like i’m drifting, carried away by some forces i can’t control. one say it’s black, another say it’s white, me i don’t want to say it’s anything. if you see me fail one thing after another, don’t say you’re disappointed, i still have to forgive myself for my mistakes, and it doesn’t leave me much space for another kind of forgiveness.
void and silence to evacuate the pressure.

i let her talk about what happened when i wasn’t around. she’s been moving for a week, then doing fireworks and a show the 13th, she said i should have been there. i know i should have. but it isn’t like i could have. it seemed understandable to her, you’ve made a big step too, she said, have you rested a bit ?
not really.
i don’t know what i’ve said. probably not too much. i didn’t say that i wish i was mute, sometimes.

last night, i’ve made this dream where i was in the shop where i used to work and someone i deliberately haven’t been talking to for many months came to see me, said look, i’m so sorry and why won’t you talk ?
i watched the smile i once liked, i won’t apologize i replied, why would i ? the smile faded out. i can’t help you and i don’t need to.
i’m still tired. too tired. only the lack of emotionnal consequences looks appealing to me, i don’t want to make promises anymore, void and silence to eliminate the pressure, run away and hide, i can grant that.

we parted an hour and a half later, i still had to give a cd full of images to R. you know, J. said, we’ve been worrying about you.
it didn’t make me any happier. i wonder if it should have made me happier, or maybe not happier, just more loved, safer too, but there wasn’t any hint of resent in her voice, so i just replied i know. she went on, explaining that if i was exercising and going to swim with them more regularly, i could evacuate it all, i wouldn’t mind working hard and seeing a lot of people all the time.
i don’t think that i mind the working a lot part, it’s just the seeing a lot of people all the time that worries me, wears me down, and eventually, scares me.

it’s odd how unreal the world seems since i have broken my glasses. give me a summary of the episodes that i’ve missed, will you ?
it isn’t just a matter of being able to focus or not, no, it has more to do with being suddenly aware of my inadequacy and awkwardness with the people around me.
i think that i’d like to quit this blog. but i don’t think that i can.
void and silence to eradicate the pressure.

R. introduced me to her mother, a small and thin sweet woman who’s getting started with photography. R. asked me about my silence, but i turned it into a joke, it was so much easier. let’s just laugh about it, let’s not say that if i had the guts, i would swim my way to a desert island or something, let’s not say that i’m grateful to be in their team and work with them, but that i need badly to switch myself off, sometimes. let’s talk simple and laugh loud. not that she wouldn’t understand, just that i won’t tell this.
R. loved the pictures, she said she wants me to be her other company’s photographer. i said that would be great, and i was sincere, i said i’d try to make that exhibition in september, with some pictures of her and she said that would be great and she was sincere.

we do great things and we’re sincere, you can quote that. i’m sincere when i see people i love, when i talk to them. i’m honest when i don’t give news for weeks or months. where is the middle between my extremes ?
will it make me happier to destroy everything i can, like to prove myself that i’m in control ? is it something that you do when biting your teeth just isn’t enough anymore ?

i left R.’s place and took the metro back home, but i got out at belleville, a couple of stations before my usual stop. i wanted to buy myself some dinner there, and walk the streets at dusk. i wanted to buy myself the best vietnemese sandwich in town, something fresh and spicy and when i noticed that the restaurant was closed, i stayed for a long minute in front of the door, not knowing what i would do. i felt like i would burst in tears. over a fucking vietnamese sandwich.
but i didn’t. my eyes are too dry, which is a real pain in the eyes when i have to take my contacts off.
i walked until i got lost, turning right or left without knowing better.
a guy sitting on a bench said, you look lovely, mademoiselle. i turned back, the guy was smiling, just like all the guys who say good evening when i walk by, like they think they even got a chance. i smiled too this time. the guy said thank you to my back.

it doesn’t make sense, and i know it. maybe the people who think that i’m incoherent or fickle are right. maybe it’s easier to pretend that i can’t deal with people, not more than i can deal with myself, and to find a way out as soon as i can’t handle the situation any longer.
if you keep repeating yourself the same lie over and over, you ought to believe in it eventually, right ?

red waltz sur le fil

et voil?, pendant six mois, j’avais pas de liens ? rajouter dans ma liste, et pis, pouf, suffit que je rencontre des gens et des blogueuses que je lis depuis peu et que j’aurais ma foi bien envie de linker, et l?, 20 juillet 2004, c’est le drame, a marche pu. :|
tout ?a parce que je voulais classer mes liens en cat?gories avec des titres de films d’hitchcock.
(je sais, rien ? voir, mais ?a me faisait rigoler, j’aurais mieux fait d’aller ? la piscine, tiens)

tant pis, vous aurez des photos ? la place.

[edit : et on applaudit des deux pieds Beleg, qui est all? mettre ses mains dans le cambouis. dans deux minutes, je recasse tout. oblig

une voiture qu’on a failli ne pas pouvoir louer, un r?apprentissage des basiques de la conduite au -4 d’un parking souterrain, des orages qui cerclent autour de nous comme des vautours rep?rant leur proie, des chateaux, des nuages accroch?s aux arbres, en bas, des champs dor?s sous un ciel noir, une petite ville blind?e de festivaliers, un steak tartare plus tard, un chemin de lanternes dans une prairie, au loin, d’autres lumi?res, un champ de chemises blanches suspendues que pas un souffle d’air ne fait vibrer, des ombres qui s’avancent, lentement, et prennent place, des carr?s magiques insolubles, deux masques blancs aux lunettes noires, des voix qui murmurent et crient dans la nuit, dans la foule, et plus loin, plus loin, encore plus loin, jusqu’au bout de la prairie, entre les battements de cils, des regards qu’on ne peut croiser, des silhouettes qui se fr?lent, d’un bout ? l’autre, aller-retours incessants, des regards qui se cherchent et s’interpellent dans la nuit, r?ponses muettes ? quels questionnements int?rieurs, d?collages et atterrissages ? son propre rythme, un homme s’effondre pr?s d’une t?te de cheval, l’image de ma grand-m?re se superpose, son regard suppliant, impuissant, ce r?ve, la folie qui transfixe, pas la sienne, pas la leur, peut-?tre la mienne, finalement, les r?les ?taient-ils invers?s, peut-?tre sommes nous les fous, et la femme en rouge qui ne s’arr?te pas de compter, d’aller et venir, un toast ? vos non-anniversaires, pour rien, c’est moi qui divague s?rement, les totems qui s’?l?vent au dessus des fumig?nes, la musique qui change et les lumi?res s’?teignent, plus de courses effr?n?es, une procession qui avance lentement, une foule qui se disperse, sous le maquillage, d’autres figures qui apparaissent, shed your skin, et puis, quelques mercis murmur?s plus tard, une route qui s’?tire dans la nuit, une autre musique, un autre rythme, un peu de brouillard qui s’est perdu sur notre chemin, le regard happ?, hypnotis? par les bandes blanches de chaque c?t?, des lucioles en forme de phares, des discussions embrum?es de fatigue, 350 kilom?tres plus loin, un lit, un voyage multiple qui se finit, de l? ? pouvoir dire o? il a d?but? et combien de temps il a dur?, non, je crois que ce voyage l? n’est jamais termin?…