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.

sorry to be a disappointment.

[edit 23:16] i’m going to puke.
leave me alone [/edit]

[edit 23:57] So I just sit up in the house and resist, and not be seen until I cease to exist…
maybe i just need to breathe.[/edit]

[edit 1:16] still not in bed. still not tired.
i don’t feel like sleeping ever again.[/edit]

[edit 11:31] i mean, no i mean, yes. if someone ask where i am, just tell them i’ve left. i’m sick of living in apnea, hit the road and end up in nowheresville [/edit]

and above all, there are those perfect feelings. sometimes. from time to time.
i got lost in the images i saw.
suddenly, it was all right in front of my eyes. i had a glimpse into a certitude, through future years and years of doubts and hard work, for a split second, i saw it, this perfect moment i dream about late at night, when i escape from sleep and land in vast intersections, between sound sleep, dreams, and light consciousness…
i was awaken, i think, then.
now well, i know i saw it. i don’t know what it is, but i know i saw it.
maybe it was in the colors, maybe it was in the scratched effects in the images, maybe it was in the deep black and white, maybe even, it was in the « subliminal » images, glances at darkness and orange tones, shapes and shadows, maybe it was in the pale blue skies, where the sun was covered with its reflections in clouds so white it looked like it didn’t belong to this world…maybe it was nowhere to be seen…

success is unsettled…i consider talent to be unsettled as well. uncertain. yet…there’s something in my blood, i feel it, running up and down in my veins, imperceptible and unseizable…
i could look at the best pictures ever made, and i would think i’ll have my time, too, i’m gonna have my time coming too.
i can dream and imagine the images that i’m making. i don’t know how to explain that. it’s all in my head, i don’t know where, i don’t know how, it’s all in my head and i don’t want to wake up. i can’t tell anyone in advance what i’ll do, or what it is i see and want to see, even though everything is quite decided for me yet, even though i know. i know.
i know and i’m scared and not afraid of anything, all at the same time.
i know and i’m hopeful and hopeless, all at the same time.

or maybe i don’t know anything, and that’s the best part of it. for each « this is great », for each « i love it », there are a million questions that awake, and await in my mind.
maybe luck is a lie. maybe talent is a lie as well.
what will always stay are your own feelings, and my own. images die, we only keep and cherish the memories we have of them…
and this isn’t as pessimistic as it sounds, this is, actually, the most optmistic thought i’ve had for months…

soundtrack : radiohead – subterranean homesick alien

alors l?, tout de suite, ma m?re viendrait de me r?veiller, et puis je compterais jusqu’? deux mille avant de me lever.
ce serait l’hiver, il serait sept heures et demi, et j’aurais vraiment pas envie de me lever. alors je commencerais ? tousser un peu, et puis quand ma m?re reviendrais voir o? j’en suis, je lui dirais que je me sens pas bien, que j’ai mal ? la t?te et des frissons, et je tousserais un petit peu, et je commencerais vraiment ? me sentir fi?vreuse. alors ma m?re poserait sa main sur mon front et elle dirait que oui peut-?tre je serais un peu chaude. elle repartirait et moi j’imaginerais ma journ?e au lit ? dessiner et boire du chocolat chaud au lit. elle reviendrait avec un thermom?tre et avant d’ouvrir la porte, je l’entendrait dire fort dans l’escalier ? mon p?re qui s’impatienterait que je me sens un peu gripp?e. elle entrerait, et je tousserais de plus belle, en me for?ant quand m?me un peu. tout le temps entre ses visites, j’aurais mis ma t?te sous les couvertures pour avoir bien trop chaud, et j’appr?henderais le verdict du maudit thermom?tre. elle me laisserait encore trois minutes et je me demanderais comment le faire monter jusqu’? quarante, sans oser rien faire de peur de le faire exploser. alors elle reviendrait, elle regarderait la petite colonne de mercure.

et l?, elle assenerait : 37.6, tu vas ? l’?cole aujourd’hui et on verra comment tu te sens demain.

et l?, j’entendrais mon p?re crier dans l’escalier que je vais ?tre en retard.

tout ?a pour dire que j’ai pas envie d’y aller et que je suis grave ? la bourre. ?a se tient, non ?

[edit 5h et des brouettes] ben ouais…c’est comme d’hab, c’est comme pour plein de trucs avec moi : ?a me tue d’y aller, mais quand j’y suis, c’est plut?t bien d’y ?tre…vous me direz, avec un open bar dans les loges, tu vas pas te plaindre en plus…ok, mais c’est bien la premi?re fois que mon premier coup d’oeil ? ma montre ne survient que sur le coup de 3h quand je suis en bo?te et non pas vers 1h30 comme d’hab. heu…je vieillis ou quoi ? [/edit]