…pourquoi on se plaint que les ados ont une orthographe de tr?pan?s, alors qu’on placarde des affiches pour une pi?ce de th?atre appel?e “tricicle” en 4×3 dans le m?tro. et d’ailleurs, qu’est-ce que ?a peut bien apporter de remplacer tricycle par tricicle ?

…quel est l’int?r?t des t-shirts “von trucmutch”, je veux dire, comment peut-on arriver ? vendre tellement de t-shirts unis avec un b?te logo dessus qu’on peut pas marcher cinq minutes dans la rue sans en voir deux mille ? est-ce que les gens vont finir par se rendre compte ? quel point ils se font lobotomiser ? et si c’?tait des t-shirts au design hallucinant, aux formes compl?tement dingues, aux couleurs venues d’une autre plan?te, ? l’humour trasho-d?jant?, est-ce que ?a passerait mieux ? est-ce que je pourrais devenir millionnaire si je lan?ais la marque “von Butch” ?

…comment les chauffeurs des derniers m?tros font pour rentrer chez eux, vu qu’ils peuvent plus prendre le dernier m?tro.

…ce qu’a sous-entendu mon petit voisin de trois ans, aussi surnomm? “bouille d’ange-cris de d?mon”, lorsque quand j’ai ouvert la porte de l’ascenseur pour en sortir et me suis retrouv?e face ? lui, il s’est ?cri? ? sa grande soeur “ah, tu vois bien, cette fois-ci c’est pas un ?l?phant !!”

…pourquoi est-ce que juste apr?s avoir lu le post de beleg sur la procrastination, j’ai fait rien qu’? procrastiner moi-m?me. est-ce un d?faut de fabrication familial ? si oui, y’a-t-il moyen de faire jouer la garantie ?

soundtrack : girl anachronism – the dresden dolls

fake hysteria in his tone. he bursts out laughing. then he throws her a glance and a smile and she’s laughing quietly. he mentally scores one point, she reads it in his eyes and when he turns away from her. maybe he’s the funniest guy on earth, and who would really know ? maybe he knows, maybe he thinks he is, but she doesn’t care about that. she’s on an observation round without the need to be funny and score. she just keeps looking at him and she has no idea what her look carries, is it too intense ? does it make him feel like she’s already won to his cause ? but the situation highly amuses her, she watches him when he talks, but she also observes how he doesn’t talk, how he doesn’t move much, how he’s impersonated by his self-assurance and self-conscience. and still…when he neither listens nor talks, he looks at her sometimes, with a little smile. if she can’t help but smile back, he scores another point.

he’s more handsome than what she remembered of him, it isn’t only in his face, or in his attitude, but it shows more at rare moments like when he laughs alone at some memory that he scarcely shares. she’s surprised to notice that he can be genuine, too, and charming without a doubt.
yet, she doesn’t have to tear off her gaze from him, it’s as easy to look at him as to be not looking at him, but she likes to notice how he finishes his cigarette, how he looks away and seem on another planet for just a second, she watches him focus and talk and then relax, she watches how thin he is…when she talks, she doesn’t know if she has his attention, but there he is, joking again, on a dryer note this time, she can’t help but smile a bit and his quick glance at her shows her that he scores another point.
in a minute, he will have forgotten about scoring, because he only cares about the moment, and besides, in a minute she will be gone, the charm — his charm — will be over. she hopes that her eyes don’t say anything to him, anything personal or even anything about him would be a mistake, she can completely detach herself from the situation or maybe she’s only trying to. maybe her eyes and face give her away, even though she feels that there’s nothing she could be afraid to give away.
she’s still amused, with a hint of irony, when they say goodbye to each other, and when she’s finally home, she plays a song that she knows that he dislikes.
she laughs alone quietly and scores a point.

if i ever touch you, personal supernova…

soundtrack : iron flower – k’s choice

and while we float, in our parallel universes, in each other’s space there is this word we can’t pronounce,
you and me have counted on our fingers all the numbers we could attain, we postpon the next thing to learn like a goal we’re afraid to reach, hear me stitch up the ceilings you’re scared to see collapsing,
and while you shout what you never want to just tell, i’m stuck down in the lights of another empty dawn, tell the word to the passengers of your life, tell them it was them who gave you your crown, tell your world what you have never shown, but don’t make me come down…