Jus de fruits

2008-06-13T16:51:00.000-07:00

life life lite life do do things do easy easy regular natural regular socialty is socialty is regular everyday do things go there do this work earn money spend money enjoy life have good life friend friends have friends stories domestic domestic stuff pleasant it is pleasant... and so on

hey, friends, enjoy your life, 'cause it is, oh yeah it is, it is like it. oh dream, its ok. fantasy, ok too, nice. But don't forget to have a real life which you can live functiunnaly. Hey, i wish there was somebody here I could beat, but I am no gross, I don't beat people, I wish I would tought. I'd like to crash some things, but I am reserved. Freakin bring the darkness, freakin wake me up some place else, some life else. Freakin get rid of that me. sci-fi me.

worst worst worst I aim for u, i don't fix things, i feel like a betrayer when i do that to me. go so low, here's your new reality maybe Arthur. oh, no, you only wanted to be a degenerate, you made a great field of experiment of yourself, how brave were you to let go the pride, or should i say, to let go the need to be yourself, to be someone, and to make that self completely misadapted to any representation. i wish i was hiroshima before the nuclear attack. that's the kind of feeling I'd like to approach now... so I am a lost cause? Oh maybe I am wasted now, ... well there you go, thank you imagination for opening those sights but you forgot one thing, i am still there, and you know that's the biggest problem... where are your priorities?? you should have gotten rid of me first, then I couldn't interfer like i am doing now.

what a waste being angry, what a waste dooming your life (unless it was a story), imagine all the things i could be imagining now. I wish this is a phase. I wish I am not stuck like I felt stuck before. I wish something in me dies, but in an other way, I kind of want that thing to keep messing me up... what a mess, it's as if i was killing myself on purpose and being angry at it... I must be freaking watching myself somewhere in Space and laughing like a maniac.

2006-08-11T16:51:00.000-07:00

hi,

I want to talk to you about someone very special. He's a character in a novel, and I don't remember his name. That man is pissed of by today's world. But he's not just grumbling, and he's not a "anywhere but here" kind of man. He thinks the whole age has gone wrong. He likes to live in past ages phantasm where religious beliefs led to crazy rituals, not like killing for God, but mostly like celebrating the mass on a woman's abdomen. Everybody pulls up their hair in ecstasy, there is people inflicting stigmatas to themselves, it's like a big voodoo trance. That has been lost, now we live in a middle-class world where nothing has value except material progress and security. He is looking for doors, doors that would open the way to his past ages phantasms. That man as a rich vision of the world. Everything is so clean and organized, he has long structured opinions on everything, and he always seems right. He has made the world's synthesis, he's sure that today is a crappy decadence. He manages to live in his toughts, he has a rich artistic background. He could lead you into a famous painter work and make you see it for the first time by showing you its metaphorical undercover, all the sublte loans that the artist has taken from his predecessors, and he could tell you what is very special about that work, what really amazes him, and he will make it seem so obvious that you'll feel like a poor spirit. That must be the brightest man, the man who builds a perfect kingdom in his mind.

2006-08-01T17:46:00.000-07:00

hey doc, I promised something to you, and altought I know you like to be surprised, I'll just feed you with the promised candy. I also do it for the therapy, I'd better clean this up right now, or somebody could get hurt, especially me. So what do I do to myself when I am in those dark edgy moods, what supplices do I inflict myself with, to what shivering extremes am I led??... I am affraid that will be deceiving, because I don't hurt myself. I'd maybe have a thrill by doing it, for sure I'd have a thrill, a more intense life, and most of all it would be romantic. But I don't do it doc, and you know I never lie. I barely think about it. Maybe I am lazy, maybe I am weak, or not extreme enough, with no sensibility, but I don't. (I am tiny, so so tiny, I am always about to break, I can hardly walk straightly, talk without shivering, oh god I am so tiny, and I like to look at this fragile piece of body like something really pathetic, like a cartoonish stick-character in the wind. You should see me when I am in the wind, I am like a doomed dead leaf, carried like a dead body by the will of the wind. And I always must look drunk or stoned, 'cause I can't walk straight on the line. But that is curving away from the main issue...) Hurting myself is too much trouble. I think the problem is that you start from zero, and you have to get to the point of injury. And also, I am affraid of opening my veins, really, it may get out of control, I don't know how do to it, maybe becauce I never dare to do it, I see all my veins exploding, and something is holding me back. But the main thing is that when you start from a perfect healthy body, it's hard to get you going. I would have to have a small curse and then I could widden it. But even then... what's the matter with me?? why do I keep from hurting myself? that would surely make my life better. And why do I keep from ending myself? Because that wouldn't make my life better. See, I can still see openings of hope... I wish my veins had those kind of openings.

2006-06-17T11:52:00.000-07:00

The village that the sun barely lights. The villagers ask themselves: "where is the rest of the world?"

2006-06-17T07:48:00.000-07:00

Laura's twin brother talking to a tape, for his psy

We are saturday june 17th, 2006, and I am so bored. Bored of life, bored of people. Well, here's what you asked me, doc, let's record for the "who is the more depressed" contest. You asked me for that han? Anyway... I know you don't want to hear what I am doing to myself, well you'd like to hear it, but I keep that for another time. So what's going on in my mind that makes me so depressed? I feel like I am gonna win that contest, doc, and I feel like you know it. You know I am the unexpectable and the brilliant. So, here I start. First, I like noone. At least, I like noone in the people revolving around me: neither my familly, neither my "friends", neither anyone, except for some faraway people that I can just phantasm. Second, I've got no friends, meaning, true friends, that understand you. I guess someone may have me as a friend, but I don't. Third, this world isn't for me, or am I skillless? I can't do nothing, I can't mess with noone, I can barely talk, barely make a moove, I am scared of everything and everyone, I don't care for career and future, but I don't care neither for present. Past seems to be my only attraction. I also feel like I've missed everything and that I am already too old and would have to start it all over again. And I cannot bear the fact that I missed everything, even right now I am missing lots of things and people, that can never be save, you've failed. I want to be a perfect beauty but I am not. I want to be the most gifted person but I am not. I want to be the best human on earth but I am not. I want to be exactly the opposite of what I feel like I am. I want to be a 10 years old girl. I want to have a 10 years old girl. I want to change everything but can barely breathe. I don't know that I am breathing. I am living and I will maybe never know it. Past was better. Past Ages were better. Being someone else is better. Being someone else is impossible. Other people are impossible. Everybody is dumb. Everybody is false. People only believe in what they see of you. I only believe of people what I learned from them in my dreams. My dreams are all lost heavens. I lose heavens each night. I hate to have to live in reality, and I am awfull at it. Everything's getting worst. I only have glimpse of divine joy that are more and more retarded, and that are making me feel like an epileptic bug vomiting on its last legs.

So, do I win, doc? Next time I'll tell you what I do to myself. This will be another kind of trip for you.

2006-05-22T07:26:00.000-07:00

I was in my birth city, but it had changed. One of my uncles had moved, and I was going at his new home, some kind of appartment, to moe the lawn with my brother... The neibourghood was all changed. It now had some commercial street, pretty much like some kind of downtown. There was a railroad track just up the hill, really close to the main street, alongside, and lots of people were walking on it instead of walking on the road. I remember that the railroad track looked very old. In reality this part of the city is kind of old, close to the river from which the city gets his name. I always tought that it was the most ancient and poorest part of the city, with struggling people that I don't know. So the railroad track was speaking for that. On the mainstreet, we were driving and hitting all sorts of detritus, maintenance workfield, all sorts of things. We would drive through all this, almost without feeling any contact, altought I was fearing it.

Once we got to my uncle's appartment, I found out that he was living in a big appartment complex. There were lots of people into their appartment, mostly some unsignificant familly, like one aunt that I barely see and talk to, some dumb cousine, and foreign people that must have been from my aunt's side of familly. There were also two small Indians (from India...) with glasses reading the papers. There were so many people, sitting all around, up high, everywhere in that big appartment. We were almost ignoring each other. It really had that "unsignificant people" feel.

Then I saw the lawn, kind of in an animated picture fashion, some kind of charachter was going down a big hill very quickly. That was an endless hill, their field. And I just see it with small frentic charachters sliding and going down the hill very quickly. The End, I think.

2006-05-20T03:23:00.000-07:00

It's hard to know what really the context was. I was attenting to a class. There were three black teachers that, instead of providing some teaching, were doing the same choereography over and over again. They would start some 80s new wave reggae song on their stereo, like UB40's Red Red wine, and do their thing, endlessly. That's the only thing I remember from their teaching, maybe they've done more conventionnal teaching, but I cannot remember. I know I had something going with a chineese girl that I think was pretty much looking like chineese star diver Guo Jingjing, very beautiful. But I cannot remeber having talk to her or having do anything to her. She was there, not in the class, but she was around, and we both knew that we must have love each other and that there was maybe just one step left to take for both us. I remember that during that class I found an orange half over my desk, and writtings around it. That was a gift she left me. After the class was over, lots of people were regrouping outside, like if they were just hanging around before going home after class. She was there, but I cannot see her face. I went away with some friend of mine, and we climbed a small hill, don't know why. From the top of the hill we could see the kids hanging in small groups. She was there with some friends. I asked my friend if I should go to her home in the evening without warning her. I tought that calling her on the phone would be a waste. He told me I shouldn't. I was really mixed up, I didn't knew what to do. I didn't even knew if I had her phone number, altought I remember thinking that it I remembered maybe it was written over the desk around the orange half. I wasn't even quite sure she loved me or where she lived anymore, or if I had picked the right girl, because there were other chineese girls with her, and maybe it was an other one of them... As I was all mixed up and looking at her from the top of the hill, I saw a number beside her, kind of like in a video game where you can see your character health or power on a 100 points scale. That number was representating her love for me. I remember that it was going from very high to very low, and vice versa, very quickly. I remember thinking that it was a crucial moment in our relationship, and I was so desperate and willing to act I ran down the hill to her. I woke up in my way down.

2006-04-18T16:09:00.000-07:00

This is the way I used to like winter. Nobody is around, but keep watching the corners, small matches carachters may appear, tottering, lost, and they may fall in the cracks, yes they may, even if the cracks are so thin, they may get stuck between it, and then I don't know what's going to happen, maybe it will slowly contract and grind them, who knows, but that will not make them very different from what they are, tiny matches people... the matters break into dust, and what's left but a feeling?

2006-03-26T16:47:00.000-08:00

Haunted by a strangeness glimpse

I don't think I could cope with anybody, live with anybody for too long. When I look at you, it's like if I knew you somehow, must have seen your face in another life or in another past, 'cause you are like something I know, something familiar. I saw that asian girl, and this is there that it became so obvious to me. I felt like she was out of some weird dream, almost nightmarish. That was something totally unknown, I think I would have lost myself just meeting her. That gave me an explanation about my failure to keep my relationships alive. When I know someone, I loose all interest. How come familiarity isn't so apealing to me?? I used to love what was familiar, not the people, mostly the places, the things, the routine, my secret domain. But it's been lost upon... Now I am haunted with that strangeness that came by me, and I loose interest in what has a familliar cover, altought I know this is often deceiving. Being haunted doesn't allow me to pay attention to you (the first "you" of that text), anyway...

2006-03-15T15:55:00.000-08:00

I found myself at the university, and there I knew noone. Things weren't as it should be. I was lying on the outside stairs that leads to the sciences building. Everything was kind of fresh and luminous, there were groups of young people goind around, and I was with that girl. We were kind of embraced in a bizarre way, and we would just moove our bodies and melting everything in a somehow impossible way. I remember her skin being very white. She was not very thin, and I felt this cold but lively flesh all over me. She was talking about things she wanted to do right now, but without giving the impression of really wanting it. It was like she was talking to the skies, with tears in her eyes, loosing her sight in the infinite. That was strange the way she seemed to talk about common desires, like the desire of eating chicken, but without seeming terrestrian at all. So I wasn't really bothered by her desire to eat chicken, because it seemed futil and disconnected from the dream. Another great thing about her was that I didn't know how she was. I tought it was a particular girl that I knew, and I called her with that name, but the person was different, for the appearance and behaviour. That's reccurent in those dreams. I feel at ease with people that I don't know. They seem to have no connection to my life, they're just gifts from the skies, with no life background, no knowledge... of me particularly. This sounds like an edenistic vision. "With knowledge came shame" In those dreams no shame. People doesn't know me and they are almost inexistant. In theses cases, I feel awfully good. Felicity is happening. I wake up and I don't believe in friends and relatives. I can get no felicity with them, because they are too real and they come with a knowledge, an austere fabulation of yourself and life. Also, sometimes you find yourself in familiar places, but you find out that those places are different, and you discover, you discover... with fascination. For people it's different than for places. It has a similarity, if you are with people that you think are some relatives, but just because you know it, 'cause in fact they are totally different looking and behaving, as I just said about the girl of my last dream. So you kind of discover that they are different from what you tought, a litle like it happens for places. What's different is that you don't really discover them, because they are no spaces. You cannot moove through them and find things. You are not enough conscious to do a psychological ralley in a dream. So they are mostly strange figurants with no connection to your life. You almost don't see them, you just feel very good.

2006-02-22T15:56:00.000-08:00

College art contest, turning bad

We had prepared some theatre show for a contest, a college art contest, presented in front of an audience, in the city's theater. There was a lot of confusion, as usual, in the whole show. The audience was unsettled, people were disappearing, maybe leaving, and we were so much confused that we couldn't noticed everything that was happening. We would find ouselves mixed up with the audience, there was no followable line, all the differents acts were mixed up, everybody would do their thing at the same time, we would find ourselves behind the audience, the scenes were multiplying, sometimes the lights would completly turn off, and this big confusion made everybody forget what they were doing and what was their role, the audience included. I don't know if we managed to bring our show to an end, I really don't know. Becca was either completly confused, either on drugs, either put down by something, but I ended up carrying her around in my arms. She was showing no signs of life. I just carried her around, as people were disappearing or hurrying themselves for god only knows what (still worried about a task that had lost its mean into this mess). She had her arms around my neck and I didn't know what to do with her, in fact I didn't even know if it was part of the show... Who knows, in such confusion?! I had to change and dress normaly again. I don't know what I did with her.

2006-02-17T15:39:00.000-08:00

mozaïk

With the Olympics, I often find myself in auditoriums, with lots of people from all the Ages of my life, and it has a carnavalesque feel. I am frustrated not being able to remember anything really precise. My wonderful feeling maybe did carry from one dream to another. I remember one precise scene. I was kind of in a bar, and there were people with costumes and theatrical ways. It was a little like in Smashing Pumpkin's Adore video. You remembered the way the images were sometimes accelerating and slowing jerkily. It was a little like that, as when I was crossing some people, it would slow down, and they would make a theatrical pose, and then it would accelerate, as I was continuing my way. I remember entering in a room with big paintings all over the walls. I was mesmerized by the paintings, euphoric should I say. Coming in the room I jumped on somebody's back and he carried me further in the room. I was extatic. There was something more, I just can't remember, even if it was one of the best feelings of my life... how frustrating!!

I am still pretty turmoiled with something else. First, a city scene where I was kind of investigating. Again, it was an adventure, some kind of investigation or death fleeing. With that girl again. I think we were teaming up. Wo, that's coming from all the angles. I remember a beach scene...ahhh, war with the africans, getting out of a building where a tribe was, and meeting another tribe on the outside....worried about their hostility, but finally one of them asks me how it is inside, and I tell them that memorable stupid sentence:"They have no axes"... No harm for me, I fly away, in the proper sense. Bus scenes, bus scenes.... damn buses, carrying me nowhere, loosing me, falses schedules, busdamnbusdamnbus...

Des parcours qui se perdent dans des régions inconnues. La peur de ne jamais pouvoir revenir. Ou la randonnée à St-Augustin DesMorts. Je m'en souviendrai toujours, St-Augustin l'hiver, région désertique et merveilleuse avec des paysages à couper le souffle. Je me tenais à l'avant, avec une fillette à mes côtés. Elle était avec moi. Nous étions accotés sur une rampe, comme dans un téléphérique, pour regarder à l'extérieur. L'autobus volait. Sous nous, un tigre des neiges qui se met sur ses deux pattes arrières. Il est immense, complètement disproportionné avec le paysage, car nous sommes très haut, mais il est tout de même immense. St-Augustin?? j'y reviendrais. Il n'y avait pas de maisons, pas de routes, pas de gens. Seulement un hiver montagneux avec des animaux fantastiques par leur disproportion et leur tenue. Je suis avec la fillette et je pointe vers l'extérieur et lui montre ces merveilles, avec l'air émerveillé qu'a quelqu'un qui se trouve derrière une vitre de véhicule et qui pointe vers quelque chose à l'extérieur. C'est presqu'au ralenti. Cette scène me rappelle quelque chose, mais je n'arrive pas à trouver. Damn, mémoire... Peut-être un dessin animé.

2006-02-14T15:36:00.000-08:00

Morning scene

I don't know how we ended up there. I wasn't wondering neither. She had been on drugs or something, she looked dirty and tired, but energically tired, if that may be... She was like still frozen, not sure of where she were, hurried to get her things together, even if she maybe had nowhere to go. That was a really weird morning. I felt like something extremely intense had gone in the last night, and I felt like if that intensity was carrying in the morning, like if it belonged to the same drama. I felt very good with her, all the way, even if I remembered nothing of the past night. She was some drug-addicted character, covering up her disturbed mind by some hurried ways. I liked the fact that she was kind of lost, hurrying up, paying no attention to no one. I was hurrying up around her, carried by that morning scene vague drama, in the wake of a strange and intense forgotten night.

2006-02-01T11:39:00.000-08:00

The Informator: about lucid dreaming

Gone over my whole blog. Made me realize that it took kind of a depressive turn. The best part is when I tell my dreams. I should do that more often. I am working on something these days. I am working on lucid dreaming. For those who don't know anything about it, lucid dreaming are dreams in which you are conscious of being in a dream. Each one of you have had such dreams. Did you know that there was a method that could help you to get more lucid dreams? Of course, the precision of the method 's suggestions is stupid. The important thing is to get the idea behind it. The most important moment is before you fall asleep. You must "fall asleep consciously", meaning that you must be conscious of your mind slowly getting detached of the outside things, and when you feel that you are starting to fall asleep, you must hang to your awaken estate. It's like if you were about to die, trying to hold to this life. That I found it myself. The methods are proposing lots of exercices to do during the day. It appears that it works. Well, here's what it says. First, you should picture that you are in a dream, at least two or three times a day. You should convince yourself that you really are living a dream. I still haven't try this tip. Then, you should think about unreal things that happened in one of your dream, and try to rationnalize it. I don't believe that this tip works. Even if you learn to rationalize unreal things, it would just make your dreams seem more natural even when unreal things happen. But even that last tought was useless, here's why. I don't think that the "unreal things" factor is the one that determines your degree of addiction to the reality of your dream. For example, I had a very strange dream with water flowing from everywhere in my room. It was a dream where I was almost lucid that it was a dream, but where I wasn't sure if it was a dream or reality. The water thing made no sens at all, but I was believing that it was possible, and that's why I tought it was real, and I didn't fell in the lucid dream. I also remembered dreams were everything was likely, but where I was conscious that it was a dream. I just "knew it", it had nothing to do with the dream's content. Same thing for a nightmare, tought it may vary. What launches a nightmare, it's the feeling that it's a nightmare, and it has little to do with the content. For example, I had a nightmare last night. The content? I was picturing myself, lying on my bed. Why was it a nightmare? I felt it in all my body, I was f** scared. So, to get back to lucid dreams, forget about the last tip, it's charlatanesque. I really think that the most important thing is to get in some kind of trance by trying to fall asleep consciously. Still, the methods are talking about some kind of trick when you awake in the middle of the night. It says that you should stay awake and activate your brain (by reading for example) for an hour. That's a way of awaken all your brain functions, before to get back to the fresh sleep you just left. Still, I find that the idea behind that is to mess the different mind states: you just wake up, maybe just off of a dream, and then activates your brain intensely for an hour, an then immediatly back to sleep and dream. Anyway, I am still pretty novice about it. I will try to come back later with more information.

2006-01-20T20:59:00.000-08:00

Differences between impressions of life and intuitions of what it deeply is, meaning that there are more powerfull impressions, mood of life, than what we are used to in our social living. I feel sad not to have the words. I am dropped, each time I get alone I realize I am dropped, like if I would live again what I just lived. I am abused, I only regroup alone. I feel like I have to talk like a child to understand myself. Powerfull youth impressions, naïve truth. Children don't speak the truth, but they are not corrrupted from the impression of it. Feeling like it's words, trying to get logical. Feeling like something has been lost. Feeling like you are talking offtime. Feeling like you lie because you are stupid. Feeling like there is a little girl that could speak the truth for you. Feeling like you are an open psychological complexes book. Feeling like you once knew, you once lived. Feeling like there is something wrong about your state today. Feeling like you are abusing you. Feeling like style over substance. Feeling like you flee away from the real problems. Feeling like you are really messed up. Feeling like you are saying nothing, as the intuition of what you feel and want to say lives an independant life outside of your will and conscious actings. Feeling like you do the wrong thing, you don't live as you should, you are not yourself, everybody sucks, there is nobody. Feeling the big "wrrrrrrong", the big buzzzzz, the big "that's not it"... I don't know what to do

2006-01-13T15:36:00.000-08:00

Eglemo

Watching flowing things

Flowing cars

Flowing people

Flowing ice on the river

What's left of me?

I am just a feeling

That I don't know

There is almost nobody, almost

They're not listening

Their feeling is almost drone

But it's everywhere

Watching flying things

Turning things

Now it's gone

Silence on the other side

What's me?

I am just a feeling

That I don't know

That I cannot know

How do we sound strange

For the Chineeses

How do we sound strange

Like they sound strange to us

2006-01-10T14:14:00.000-08:00

There's a point, where I start to shiver, where everything is perfect harmony, that's grace, and it goes away... That is tragic, but when I am lazy it is not. Muses! Muses! No, we call for ourselves! Call for yourself!! Find something!!

2005-12-23T18:53:00.000-08:00

Première étape: regardez comme le prosaïsme de la vie a rendu nos yeux ternes. "World in my eyes", "Your joyfull eyes are like paradise", est-ce que cela vous ouvre une porte? "If you want to see the sky, just put a window in your eye", est-ce que cela ouvre? Non, nous vivons ici et maintenant, prosaïsme... Télévision, sofa, jasette, jasette, je sais ce que je dis, rien ne remue dans les profondeurs... les profondeurs?? Comme cela est irréel... Simulation de dialogue:

"- C'est stupide...
- Je sais, c'est stupide...
- Non, je veux dire, regarde-les...
- Je les vois.
- C'est stupide... ahhh, je suis fatiguée....
- Et moi donc.
- Fais quelque chose!!
- Quoi? Si je fais quelque chose avec toi, ce sera telle que je t'ai connue dans mes rêves.
- Qu'importe...
- Mais tu sais ce que cela veut dire... ça peut être étonnant.
- Ahahah, qu'est-ce qui peut être étonnant?
- Je t'ai connue autre que tu te crois.
- Évidemment...
- Non, vraiment autre, telle que tu ne te soupçonnes pas.
- Tant mieux, je m'ennuie, ma personne m'ennuie.
- Alors tu veux croire à une nouvelle réalité?
- Bien sûr, une nouvelle réalité...
- Tu ne pense pas à...
- Mais bien sûr que non, regarde comment tu me regardes...
- Comment je te regarde?...
- Ah, cesse cela, viens en au point, je suis déjà tannée...
- Au point? Quel point?
- Pourquoi tu joues les stupides? on veut la même chose.
- Ce n'est pas ce que je crois. C'est facile d'obtenir ce que l'on veut en croyant que tout le monde veut la même chose. À supposer que l'on sache ce que l'on veut...
- Tu ne me parlerais pas si tu ne savais pas ce que tu veux, alors...
- Alors quoi? Il ne reste que toi? que toi et moi?
- Pour une fois tu parles bien.
- Toi et moi, seuls dans cette pièce, vide.
- Voilà, c'est ta nouvelle réalité? ahah...
- C'est le désert...
- Heureusement il y a de l'eau pour nous désaltérer.
- Je préfère crever de soif que de boire une eau aussi ingrate.
- L'eau est la seule issue.
- Je vois ta vérité...
- Tu me vois pour la première fois."

2005-12-23T14:23:00.000-08:00

Construction human again. Why do I always feel like there is a need for a new beginning, while being stucked with the idea that this is impossible, and feeling like this is that last idea that is keeping me away from starting everything all over again... I feel stuck with ideas, stuck with damn old ideas, vision, that get the chance to "live me" because I am not always aware of them. I cannot believe how deep you make me sleep... I want to believe that something in my conscience is stronger than you... god, I am all fucked up.... I know I am life, so that I am full of movements, full of things that I dont know. Knowing something doesn't mean that you stick to the thing: no, knowing is fantasying. So I am all fucked up... `cause I feel like everything I know is wrong, meaning that it is a product of my imagination, far from objectivism. Maybe I should not care about those times when I sleep, when everything goes like afterthen I would destroyed myself: "Why? why do I do that ? why does it have to be this way?" etc. Every moment you get more lucid, it makes you frustrated about the times when you aren't. And it makes you feel like you are only living when you are truly lucid, truly awaken. It makes you swear that now you'll only live the lucid life, fully awaken in your consicence of everything that goes. What shit is that... That leads me to a theory, and as I am reading Bergson's philosophy these days, it will connect with that. Bergson made the experience of the mind a time experience. The unfortunate doom of Man is that he is living in time. He always makes the opposition container/contained. Following that idea, Man lives in Time and that's his misfortune. Because he has consciousness of Time, he lives into it, and it makes the happiness impossible, `cause the unity between Man and its world is lost. So for Bergson happiness is a state of grace where everything flows and anticipates the future by its own grace. Because grace is a movement that is so in harmony with its world that it goes all the way, like a prescience, already having traced the path. Sadness is to rely on the past, is to be disconnected with Time, to think of it. So here we come to my mind. I found out how nostalgia is everywhere, how important it is, something that is almost in every tought, like if we were stuck with our history, unconsciously driving us. It makes every new idea a flower of the past. When we have dreams, thinking of those dreams makes us nostalgic, because its like lost worlds, and we can imagine the feeling that we had in those dreams. The fact that it isnt connecting with our awaken life makes it even more like a lost paradise. Childhood impressions do something similar. We lost those impressions, and we idealize it because it was so powerfull in its freshness when it happened. I feel like I am filled with nostalgia...in everything that I do, as if I wasn't abble to leave me to the world, to abandon myself. What a gloomy feeling... So I want to construct the human again, to see it a new way, but all my oldness keeps me from it, but I feel like I can do it, so that makes me even more frustrated to notice that I cannot see everything in some fresh way, except for glimpses. That is so damn frustrating... why do we have to be human?? Is it me not being able to get the good side of it??

2005-12-21T03:57:00.000-08:00

Buildings were all messed up and I tought I could kill myself in this unsafe mess. I went to the mountain but I was missing something, then I saw someones I knew, and gave them a sign. We recognized each other, but somehow we lost ourselves in our way to meet. Maybe we didn't want to meet. We're too different and unknown to each other, everybody becomes a presence, but we don't meet nobody. Devastated buildings (or maybe it is just renovation), and when I go outside this is nothing but strangeness... the air is filled with mysterious danger: and I slide, I fly, alone with my feeling. Ohhh, nights of terror... you don't want me to feel good... but I am addicted to your power.

2005-12-03T19:56:00.000-08:00

Disconnected

Vide, totalement. Vide. Nous avons peur, et c’est tout. Les corps sont inconsistants. Nous leur avons donné une vie, en pensant, nous nous sommes imaginés des tas de choses lourdes. Mais il ne reste rien de tout cela. Pourtant je crois en vous, mais c’est comme si je vivais dans un sentiment, et que ce sentiment était toute ma vie. Je n’ai jamais été à ce point abandonné… mais pourquoi est-ce que je ne sens pas d’appel de Dieu ? Et pourquoi je ne crois pas ceux qui vivent pour Dieu… je suis si loin de les comprendre. Pourtant nous vivons côte à côte, mais je ne distingue plus personne, parce que je ne reconnais plus personne. La manière dont j’ai connu les gens, c’est comme s’ils avaient disparu, comme si il n’y avait plus personne. Mais pourquoi est-ce que je ressens toujours une menace et que je suis incapable de ne rien faire ? Si seulement j’avais peur… mais ce n’est même pas cela. C’est même pire parce que je ne le sens pas s’emparer de moi, j’en ai seulement la vague intuition, et puisque cela n’a pas de nom, et puisque ce n’est peut-être rien, ça ne remplit pas ma vie. La marijane me met dans un drôle d’état. Je sens seulement que mon existence est tragique. C’est comme si ce sentiment vibrait dans l’air, et j’ai le goût de pleurer. Par ailleurs je n’ai plus le goût de rien… à quoi bon si je ne reconnais rien ? Je pourrais concevoir mon au-delà, comme Saint-Denys Garneau, « diviser à l’infini l’infime distance de la corde à l’arc, créer par ingéniosité un espace analogue à l’au-delà », mais je ne pourrais me concentrer plus d’une seconde et j’oublierais ma création. Quelle nauséeuse lâcheté… Qu’il serait bon d’être un adulte moral surnageant tout. J’ai perdu toute connexion, je ne sais même plus comment rêver, comment écouter de la musique, puisque ça fait trop « partie de la vie ». C’est une activité, du « quelconque ». Je sens que j’ai abandonné quelque chose, mais je ne sais quoi. Je ne peux plus m’émouvoir si je vis ici, maintenant, en tant que moi. C’est trop « ma vie », ça m’exaspère. J’ai d’extraordinaires contradictions : je veux tout mais ne veux rien de ce monde, je ne veux être personne mais quelqu’un d’extraordinaire (j’avais écrit « extropmadore »…, je déteste mais j’aime les gens… j’ai l’impression ne pas vivre, mais je ne désire rien de moins que de vivre merveilleusement. Je crois cependant que je suis autodestructeur, que je veux le pire, je veux mon malheur, je veux la détresse générale, simplement. J’imagine que c’est par là que se réalisera mon idéal esthétique. Je ne souhaite pas punir personne, mais faire émerger le sentiment tragique de l’existence.

2005-11-21T12:23:00.000-08:00

Too bored and depressed, the doors of success are closed. No way to my desires, the things outside they make no sens. I've lost the sens of all the words, "reality", "life", and so on, they leave me cold with no understanding. Everything that exist to me don't exist for no one. I've poor my life into secret and invisible, things with no names, non-existent situations, and lost contact with everything and everyone. I am stuck with the feeling that everything is lost, stuck with inconstistant fantasies where nobody lives. I poor my life into fiction, I let my visions drone me, only to return empty and unsatisfied as ever. I go to people, I do things, I learn to want outside things, but I stay with a feeling of evergrowing frustration. The more you try the more you get frustrated. Nobody knows what they are doing, but they figure that what theyre doing and thinking is ok, with no need for more, no need for change. Content, we are content, everything goes on, it's ok. The world is filled with what we are, it is for us. Why look for something else? why not knowing? everything is here, everything has been tought, just choose what you want, it's here.

2005-11-12T13:23:00.000-08:00

Hi ghost crew, I am back after being absent for pretty much a while. Doesn't mean life has been consuming me, no, no, never will it happen... It's just that I didn't feel like, you know...

I wanna talk about the things that I love. But I don't wanna tell you what are those things. You are waiting for precise things, buy you'll have to search after them behind what's coming.

And what is coming is a rain with full of white light. There will be wet young girls crying under the rain, black alive images of pure distress, and tears melting with that rain so that we cannot make the difference beween the two.

There is tragic in the air, tonight. People will crackdown and will be completely lost. Her goth make-up will melt, maybe her black hair too, and she will crawl on the sidewalk. She'll maybe hang to a tree, but the tree won't understand, so she will be even more distressfull. High violins will sing desperation. She cannot hold to anything, she is completely lost, completely lost. There is no one for her but there are tons of strangers that might... But they almost don't see her, and she sees that. There is nothing in life for her, she realizes, nothing. Everything is too fugitive, nobody cares, there is careless cruauty everywhere, even her relatives seem awfully strange, with no connection to her desires. It's the eruption of the big scream into the night, the scream with no echo but its own. "I wanna go away! Even that... I wanna die right there! Give me someone and let me kill his hopes like everybody killed mines! I am just gonna consumed an ultimate pleasure alone, even if I am with him, and I will let myself die under his eyes! That will be sensation! You want hardcore, I am bringing you some."

Dreams, confusion, little little little pleasures, and I am forgetting, that it is so so so sad, but then I start to panic, what's going on?! what's going on!?! Affraid of everything, aside of everything, being in it just pushes further my big blow: the scream into the night!

2005-10-28T17:28:00.000-07:00

Stangers on the street... why don't you come over to my house? I see shining windows everywhere, with things and people behind. I like these windows coldness. Face it. I don't know what I am up to. I am stealing looks, shivering members.

Crystal light, dope snow, burning eyes, love punch, fire pulp, angels with stick legs dancing over a sea of light, coffee shoulders melt, lips take the sea, nobody hold their bodies, freefloater, the ghost night elevates us, no feet touch the ground, allowing the day vegetation to grow, and when the day comes back, we lie on this grass, where the hoppers with their millions magical legs put vicious ferments in our heads, and this ferment into the night, and lift ourselves over sanity, over the grass. When the thrill is gone, some fall on the floor, some taste it, some cry the hoopers poison and it just feels good, some scream and hope a soul to respond, sometimes the echo is just an insect crawling. Dying on one of your lumb. You will now experience difficulties breathing, 'till the insect desintegrate. Flaming bugs cooking up our wildest dreams, whispering it to us in the cold streets where we lose conscience of the world. While I am dreaming of a boat, Biniji is cooking up vicious visions, and as I cannot find a beautiful boat, I lie on the grass and let him whisper to me that I should chase little girls, that I should drink prohibited drinks, that I should be bad to everybody. I like the sound of his voice, and my voice echoing it. I will go wild soon: I like too much being a luminous bug. I don't like to be understood, so go away.

2005-10-21T17:22:00.000-07:00

Time for the words... words in a mean that... Goodbye, there's nothing new, but this last said by you... I'm sentitive, touch sensitive, nothing new, sentitive touch sentitive... there's nothing new, but you... your hair, they fall on your eyes, there's nothing new, you're beautiful, I hate you, I hate everything... nothing comes to life in that context... I can't believe this is happening... to me... again... snowfall soon... Goodbye, there's nothing new, but these last ones, said by you... and this world tricks to an end, wether there's something inside... nothing inside to rescue mine... just making up fantasies... you wont believe it, just classify me, I am telling... touch sensitive, I am sensitive, touch sensitive, a teller, dreams

2005-10-14T16:53:00.000-07:00

The aestethic of "the fugitive", as it goes.

Smiles, faces, looks, and somehow it's more that it could ever be. I picture myself in a situation, and yes I am thinking that it would be better that way, but I am part wrong. Can we have complete situations, well done ones? I think we get fugitive happiness moments, but how hard it is to get a perfect situation? It takes wine, right people, right time, the right girl, and love getting the world in motion. Cigarettes are good too. Those perfect moments... before youth is going away. I wish the right ones would get in my way. But I cant even open my mouth, and opening the mouth is the first step to everything, world teached me... unless you are a true magician, but I didn't reach for that... Blah beuh bah, I follow you, everywhere you go, 'till tou talk to me. Where's my luth... too kitshy, I've already destroyed it... but that's kind of overdone, destroying instruments, ....damn!!! I am stuck with that luth!! Build me a vessel!! with everything! It's the sea, it's the drifters, it's... never gonna end, take my hand.

2005-10-05T14:38:00.000-07:00

You will never understand. You become what you stare at. I don't like being lost all the time. That's why I need you. When I am lost, when I don't know where I am and when it is, you have got to give me something... maybe just a part of you're body, maybe just a word, a look, I don't know. Maybe you have got do to nothing, because it won't help. If you try too hard, maybe I 'll love you, maybe I'll hate you, depending. Can you get it when I close my eyes and everything disappeared and I'm lost? Would you recognize it and would you know what to do or to do not? Ideals made me ideal and fucked the whole world just enough so that you can't recognize it. You'll be in full sea of mystery. If you panic, maybe it will feel just right, because it will fire me up. Once you fixed in reality, you are lost forever. Then you won't see me by no window. Hope you fly, hope you float, hope you dream, hope you sleep, hope you get all mixed up and become crazy. I will be pleased watching you rationalize it. Maybe you'll see a secret kiss flying out my smiling eyes and you will strangle me and love me. If I predicted it, then shame on you, you already bore me. Each thing, everytime, I don't want to know what you're after. And who knows exactly what we're after? Certainly not me, neither you. That's what allows everything. God, that sea of possibilities... Can you count them? Do that funny thing for me. I ask you so that so that you can do something else that I wasn't waiting for. That's the point, if there is one, of asking: getting something strange, totally disconnected out of it. So I hope you are not waiting something from me, because here's one thing I never do. The only thing we can trust is secret, because even when it reveals, it's to trick us. I believe in secret.

2005-09-29T15:15:00.000-07:00

Soon I will be writting in Spanish. I am just leaving a language for another, like this, like a lazy lazy contemporary guy... I am pretty proud of myself. I am not messing with anything for too long, I am like this. So I could die soon, I don't mind. My mouth speaks the truth, my mind is living on the edge. The thing I like more about life: anyone may crackdown at any time. Fall or crack, at any time, never know when neither where. It's the crackdown. I don't think everything is illusion, because that last concept has been over-soiled. I just can't believe what I see, I am astound and desperate. I'm like: "What's this?! Did it had to be that way?!"

2005-09-22T17:20:00.000-07:00

Aureliano had chosen Remedios. Why? She was the only one still weting is bed. They had to wait after her puberty before their union was to be consumed. Aureliano had that steel conviction, almost stupid, well that's love. Remedios didn't understand anything. Well did she really understand nothing? I guess everything was kind of magical for her. She was kept in her house with her toys, not having any bad toughts, almost any toughts at all: puberty had not changed her. How pure is that? Aureliano and Remedios were to be together, it was simple, Aureliano had find his love. Remedios was to love him, first by strangeness, because she was living her young magical existence, and then she would love him for he was to be the only masculine figure around. And he would love and adore her, and care for her. There would not be much questions or hesitations, how perfect. Had she seen the little boys hanging around, with their lazyness and futility? She would have had a wide variety of choices, in fact it's the same thing: she would have had no choice of falling in it, falling for someone, then another one with something stranger, then another one who was simply the one she hadn't noticed she loved. Did Aureliano saved her? Well, who can say what's right or wrong these days... Multiple love affairs, falling in love all of the time or devote yourself to single adoration and grown affection. That's just anything, anything, and there's nothing good, just anxiety. And small pieces of happiness.

2005-09-20T11:04:00.000-07:00

Fli

2005-09-16T20:35:00.000-07:00

Yeah, the cop story that was coming.... well, you'll be a bit disapointed, because there is not much action. Rereading my last post about another dream that I had, I found that there was not much of an action, no particular details about the dream itself. And the fact is that it's true that I am not really giving any precise details 'cause I don't remember about it, so don't expect the telling of a dream like if I was telling you a story. It happens frequently in litterature that dreams are told like if it was a story with a detailed environment an a detailed tail... well, it's not really how it happens.

Let's start with a general consideration related to the dream I am ready to tell you about: have you ever noticed (I say that formaly, because everybody has) how selfishly we think in a dream? I mean, even more that in real life. It's even more obvious and embarassing in "life or death" situations dreams. I don't really remember what I did wrong, but I was fleeing away from the Justice. Not exactly I was fleeing, but I knew that I was suspected for something, so I was keeping on the lockout. I was driving in a kind of highway (when I am driving, in my dreams, its always on a highway or some kind of deserted road). So, I was driving in a really clumsy way, as ever. I was getting out of hand, carried out of course in the off-road, in a word I was out of control, as I always am in my dreams. Suddenly, I crossed a cop car: bad news. They abruptly turned back and chased me. I offered no resistance, and stepped out of my car. I was desperate, I was facing serious jail time. I knew that my life was going to be messed, it was the worst thing that could happen, I was caught and about to live a hell time. Again, (like in the other dream I told you about last post), nature was so bright and marvelously desolated. That's the only thing that made me feel good. Lets get back to the action. When I was out of the car, I stole one of the two policemen' gun. It was not an intense scene, I just stole it, I think they were almost laughing. And then (and that's wild, I never did that in any other dream before, really it was so bold by myself...) I pointed my weapon toward them! I was about to shoot them, or one of them! I remember perfectly my reflexion: " If I shoot him, I could get in even deeper trouble, so I should not do it." How selfish!! But the fact here, it's that I didn't shoot any of the two, and turned the weapon over me! again, its my reflexions that I remember the most: "I could suicide, and it would end everything, I would have no trouble anymore." I then turned my back to the cops. I had a small reflexion about the fact that they could should me in the back. Here's what I tought about it: "I much prefer dying that way that they should me when I look at them, BUT, I am affraid that they miss the killing target and that they just hurt me, it would be more painfull." But I also tought that they could not shoot me in the back that way. I was kind of on a bank. The road was alongside the sea, just a little higher. So I looked at the sea, and tried to get deep tragic toughts about my situation. I was kind of disturbed by the presence of the two policemen. God, it was strange... I was having toughts about suicide, I was trying to get some courage, trying to convince me that it was better, but I was hanging to this life, I was affraid of the big nothing awaiting me... Should I shoot me, it would end everything, but... if it was more? if there was a chance for me to escape from my desperate situation? But if I shoot me, what will happen? A big nothing?? I was so scared, front of the sea, disturbing policemen behind me, and I was about to shoot me. I admit, I had the courage of doing it, and you know what gave me that final push? I suspected that I was in a dream!! So I pushed the trigger... And that's the thing I remember best from my dream: the sound, the texture of the bullet coming out of the gun, the sensation of it... The end.

2005-09-16T10:37:00.000-07:00

Telling of some asleep dreams.

Agression in a bright medieval garden

The chosen one ... on me as I show them that I can fly. But it's not the same thing when I am doing it for showing them. I kind of lost them in a messy crowd that is not human, but that is mostly disturbing. I sense that they are busy at something else. I can see that from above, it's like a Bosch crowd, like an insect cloud. I can't remember how was my flight, because what happened next was so powerfully traumatizing, that it is what I kept in mind when I awoke and tried to hang to one picture of my dream. It's a sumum of an humiliation scene that reveals me what I am haunted with. I've been mocked, humiliated, but it was so vulgary done, I am so sorry that there was no continuation (or did I forget it??) of my dream, because I would have like to see the reaction of other people. I can just remember the evil face of my agressor (which I know in my real life, and which is indirectly related to my "love" relations. He has a whole particular status in my mind, like everyone I think). I had no conscious bad toughts about him, and at the opposite, I kind of admire him. Which means I must have been envious. What is sure, it's that he was far from letting me indiferent and I considered him like one of the most impetuous person I knew. And God knows he was in that dream. Another thing I can remember of that humiliating moment, its something more vague, and its something that takes no clear position versus me. So I don't really know if the person I remember was sympathic to me or was kind of against me. It happens frequently in my dreams that my best relations turn against me. It's simple, I think they know me, so they know what I am bad for and what I am doing wrong, what I am laughable for. So that's why they always turn against me in my dreams. Do you imagine the adversity??! I only find friends in some cold emotionless mysterious figures that I don't know. Usually they don't say a word and they don't express a feeling, otherwise I would take it bad. So it leads me to think that the person, the main attender of the scene was kind of with the agressor, but I really am not sure. And the more I think of it, the more I think he was neither with him neither with me. He sure understood a lot of things, but all in his way, like he was not implicated, which is good for me. It's funny, I see only his head in a messy carnavalesque crowd. Like a head floating, what makes him like a spirit floating. Generally, this dream (and I am finding out about that right now, as the images take form) seems to have a lot of Middle-Age and Renaissance imagery... how weird is that? Lots of pictures are like Bosh paintings, mostly the edenistic ones, and for that also there are some pictures that are reminders of how I picture Le Roman de la Rose, a medieval analogy novel. In the agression scene, I felt like a character of a violent medieval story trying to flee and cover himself from the agression, in a eden garden or forest. It's weird how luminous nature was in that dream, how bright and medievaly edenic it was... Maybe it has to see with the subject of my dream, which is intensely related to the obsessional themes of medievists. Well, that theme is haunting in each Age, but in my mind, it has a really particular flavour in the medieval context. I feel like I am resurecting that humanity... They managed to create an imagery that is so marvelous and that sublimates the subject of obsession. So it kinds of put in scene everything but the subject of obsession; that is the best.

(tonight or tomorrow: a cop story! well, not really... but you'll see, it's another dream made in the same night)

2005-09-15T13:50:00.000-07:00

"You want to see the sky, just put a window in your eye" But your eye is liquid, I cannot breathe. That's perfect, languishing spanish ink with green and purple glints. I swim up to the surface, I am so wet, hallucinated, spanish glints sea, I'll never be the same. I cannot stay in the waters forever. On the bank fizzy fairies are dancing in the wind. So young, so fresh, bubbles smiles bubbles eyes, and I am young again, I'll never be the same again. What do you learn in school? School? What's that? Books? Heroes? Your book and your dreams, my fairy. Words, mooves, looks, and I am crazy.

Waking up, new light. I once was lost in that chinese austere and full-of-mysterious-expectations-and-coldness world. Tried to tell myself that there was nothing more. It broke my heart, felt in another dream, and I don't recognize my chinese faces anymore, they lost their charm (I mean, I forget...), they left it in some past faces, fixed forever, and that forever will end soon, where bubbles will pop again and my brain go crazy for it.

Love is never boring, but I am exhausted. I've traveled all around the world, where the sea tastes gum, metal, ink... Lost, found, lost, found, my explorers, endind in the pub of low imagination, or sleeping till inspiration comes back, at the edge of an hair, of a finger that is so soft it is creepy love. Creepy love, pudding, yaourt culmination. Creamy fairy, don't jump to hard, or if you do, take my hand. Even without seing each other, we are in the yaourt together and that's everything. Is everything that I say just getting you hungry? Well you don't have to open your eyes and look, it will burn. Just taste. Doudooudou, my raspberries! Little perfect worlds, you're not vessels? What really is moving? We usually ask the wrong questions, we are so wrong, I am the extraterrian laugher! Suffocating in my pudding! Stop, now there's just air, I don't understand... I have no consistancy, nothing, nothing... Now I don't believe in any form of body. The states are messing with me: air, liquid, gaz, all the same.

2005-09-12T13:40:00.000-07:00

Un nageur dans l'oeil

2005-09-02T16:45:00.000-07:00

Mon corps aurait besoin d'être constamment traversé par un fluide ou par la fumée pour être bien. Alors je pourrais écrire de belles choses au-dessus de la réalité. Si j'étais un petit poisson fendant l'eau, ou une taupe creusant la terre, j'aurais ma petite vie magique. Trop de possibilités en moi m'empêchent de choisir une vie. Ceci fait de moi un halluciné errant, un impuissant diront d'autres. Par mon corps, je suis devenue une charmante comédie. Par mon esprit, un gâchis dont je ne soupçonne plus les abîmes.

J'ai créé un monde merveilleux pour Alice et Anet, il est fait de bulles de lumière, de vent liquide blanc et de soleil rose. Lorsqu'il y a musique et danse, cela vit. Lorsque la musique s'arrête, il y a une attente, le monde est secrètement haletant. J'écoute leur souffle, respire leur haleine, et admire la sueur scintillante suspendue à leurs corps: cela m'inspire.

"...tu ne fus qu'un contraste de lumière blanche me déchirant le coeur. Ton spectre..."

Vous levez la tête et voyez un monde fantômatique en suspension devant vous. Il vous est impossible de vivre sans flotter, mais sans cesse on vous accroche. Envolez-vous dans la vie, et ne comprenez rien. Tout sera curieuse logique, comme un rêve, comme une petite vie magique de poisson ou d'oiseau.

2005-08-30T16:38:00.000-07:00

Slamming windows, tozen windows slamming, and as I am trying to close everything, other ones appear or open brutaly, ...what's that?? Seems like I am all messed up, trying to breathe... Is that me?? The storm raging, my belongings drowning, what keeps me alive? I know, it means that I don't belong, neither to me, neither to anything. This is the new life, just mirrors, only questions. Where is the spirit, god help me... It's just a boat, and the sea never ends, that's the only thing I can be sure of. Lost a dream there, now it's an island that nobody ever visits, or really? I look back: must reinvent again, or must create something new: choose.

Milk

Love you, drown me, must not see the end of it, neither the stream (feel it, don't...). Fruit Island, where I sleep, Eden where I find virgin-me. Lying, watching the fruits falling slow motion... nice, felt on my head so softly. Now I will bite one of it, will be so soft that I will die of this new feeling. Now I am having visions, white visions. Mostly milk. Milk people. The milk people try to talk but only greasy pearls flowing out delicately on the extrimities of their mouths. Their breathe makes bubbles. Now I climb a pear tree, sit on a branch and sing melodies. At anytime I want, I can just let myself fall in the milk bubbling broth.

Western eldorado

Invented myself a western eldorado, with square horses with sad eyes, mad gold searchers with ugly mouths, mechanic pianos playing itselves all day long, shady faces appearing behind windows, a crazy grandma, some dirty vicious babysitter with a criminal background... a ghost city with something in the air but with humans with nothing inside. A gloomy music, everything perfectly detuned. The place where natural elements make everything suspect, but where nobody cannot do anything that we know. There are people playing some kind of roles, but nobody really exist, and they don't know. They're like ghosts, everything is happening outside them. They only have an abstract feeling of desolation and death, but most of the time it doesn't come to life, never.

(Soon coming: the story of the plastification.)

2005-08-25T19:05:00.000-07:00

I have got good news. Time has slowed down, and then started to go backwards. Then it stoped, around 1986. It existed for a flash, and then it died and we got back stuck in here. Here's what happened in that 1986 flash.

Two girls were wearing excessive white sunglasses with pink shirts and those pants that fits your ankles perfectly, skin-tights. They had leather hand bags, pretty flashy in the sun, and they had never been so girly. Oof, they would have need support from the world around, I mean, who catches when time has rewind? They turned their heads back very quickly, very in the air with the hand bags and the hair and everything, and started to laugh throwing their heads behind. Somebody touched me and it ended. Need to find a way to float.

2005-08-24T19:08:00.000-07:00

Hi, it's me, again. And I am getting fired up, again. About nothing, again. Well, in fact, it's about something so far away from concrete life, folks, but in an other way so close... I just cannot tell from here. Would need the support from an outsider... A trustfull one... Someone a little like me, or someone that could be my girl... in a non-existent life. Unless I cannot tell what it was... anyway it doesn't matter.

It happened that I found out that we can summarize anything with a single colour. Or two. Anyway, when you become a colour, or a joyfull mix of two, you may meet on your way other people that also are a colour or a mix of colours. And you're happy, and people are tastefull, and it makes for greater memories. Everybody knows the song "Yellow" from Coldplay. Love that song.

Eyes talk but cannot get to a point, because there are people. Eyes, juice, crystal, light... and I'm crazy.

2005-08-22T17:58:00.000-07:00

Are those little girls angels or butterflies? Anyway, they know the way to our stomach, and they are hungry for it. I think theyre just killer angels. Wish I could see under reality... Then I could live with them... there... where it's... you know...

The day doesn't fit my mood... the night comes.... and I am floating...floating into the night. I am living when darkness comes. I don't understand the day... and everything that is happening during that time. I cannot settle into the day.... it's getting me nervous. Everybody starts living when darkness comes. Please don't read me as a gothic, 'cause I am not and... I not am. Darkness, velvet coat... where we feel at ease to create anything, evrything.

Gouzy gouzy gouzy girls, gnia gnia gnia smiles, that's where I am getting started. I've got two apples, one in each hand. I cannot touch you. Jungler? No, I am not jungling. A young man, alone, jungling on a place. I saw him. Hey man, what are you doing? This place is empty. Are you furious? What have you got in the eye? That's like a big nothing covering up something. How can I think of something for you?

I'll be tracked forever with japanese visions. Pink air, you know, flying manga gouzy gouzy... Stand in the air with that japanese music, everything flies around. Can I find the music for that pinky japanese world? Girls are so tiny and fragile and soft. I cannot take it... I have got two apples, one in each hand... Take a bite and smile, juicy juicy... juicy girl. Befor I chew the apple of your eye. I don't know how to say that I wan't everything else dying... Because I don't really want death, it's more of some kind of reality that has to change of colors. Some colors don't exist here. We don't have to talk about it, we don't have to talk, because talking belongs to a shit world. Some other world exists beyond talking, we don't understand that. Now I have got to be an extraterrian. Or figuring some heroic japanese world that must be like a young manga-girl phantasm. That's already too much... `cause we're not together lying on the grass looking at the sky. That's the only thing that should be.

2005-08-21T16:08:00.000-07:00

Damn cats...

2005-08-21T15:47:00.000-07:00

" I know I am guilty, my stomach always hurt. " Guilty? Let's say "stupid". I would have eat you, man. But instead I'll swim after her legs underwater. Nobody can see me there, I feel good and it kills you. Just the two of us...

You saw that non-existent movie (more like a scene, should I say) where the girl is making lustful signs while going backwards in the hall?? I am sure you know what I'm talking about, even if you didn't see that non-existent movie. Well, there must be a guy too, following the girl's signs, but without ever getting to touch her. A dream taught me that I really don't mind touching her. It really is not the point, you point-men. The only person that could understand that is that character woman that was fascinated with the action of taking out the trashes or something like that...

Anyway, wish I lived in Puddle Beach...

2005-08-16T15:14:00.000-07:00

Hey, I say that age doesn't matter... Are they too much hung-up to understand that? You dress like in the 80s, you have greasy pink lips and wear excessive sun-glasses. By the way you mooved, and by the way I looked at you, we both understood. Inhibition wasn't your problem. But you had a baby...

You may just lost yourself into impossible dreams, you may either give up on that, as guys like me are blind and stupid. The way you mooved showed me that you still believed. I'll be there.

2005-08-13T21:11:00.000-07:00

Shit happened today. First with Karen. She phoned me soon this morning, I was in a bad mood. I almost didn't awake and talked to her very rudely. As she was boring me with her reality details, I told her one dream I had and informed her that I tought it was a premonition that everything would soon fuck between each other. She begged me to get back to a normal behaviour. It got me angry: "I love you but I don't" I told her. Then: "If you were little more different, little more like I want, maybe it could work... I am sorry." After I told her that, she insulted me. I said: "You are starting to be interesting." She insulted me heavier. "I love you!" I told her. She started to cry and hanged off. When shit like that happen early in the day, it gets me started for the rest of the day for other shit. I ran into a girl that I was crossing by almost everyday in bike. We told each other so many things with our eyes, when we were crossing, that I think we were deeply in love. So I just fell of my bike and she understood, and then I loved her and then ignored her. She was so confused that she will love me forever. Girls...

2005-08-11T15:12:00.000-07:00

Got to work today, fell asleep. I am a touristic guide, waiting for custommers alone in my box. Two women came and almost awoke me. First automatic tought: being affable. So, unconsiously I stood up and went to them with so much conviviality that it didn't awake me. I don't know how it happened, but in those few moments, we acted like aunts and godson. One of them touched me like if it was, if really that kind of touch exist (you know, the way aunts touch their godson...) Anyway, it lasted for couple of seconds, they went away, and I woke up.

I am not orphelin, by the way. Would be funny however that reality would be so simple. Dreaming of having a real comfortable familly as you are an orphan... And it ends there.

2005-08-09T18:40:00.000-07:00

There are lots of places where you can write things that are not to be red by anyone. I just found out that a blog may be a good place to write things that would be red by people who would read it and hopefully reply to it. People struggling with their shit life seems to be the more interesting stuff for normal people. As my life as "me myself" -which means my mind life- doesn't have any interest in that context, I find no use being that "me myself" that I must be, I find no use being that small "me" that I must be in the ocean of life inside me, so I'll just be a pissed off American in need for affection. Why not be an American for this time? I can be anything, it is worth anything.

Emptyness allows us to move, to breathe, to "talk-shit-do", as I love to say. Otherwise we could not do those essential things. We would already be drone before to exist. This is where I start, to show you that I am serious: talking is nothing, as writting is nothing. Words and ideas just flow, there's always a mood behind it, and another more obscure mood behind it, and so on. The deepest mood is the one we cannot find out that it is possessing us as if we were puppets. That's why after having deep shit in our lifes, we wake up, but only a long time after and to fall in another dream. Radicaly, the deepest mood, the inaccessible one, is the mood that will stay constant all our life: we just cannot think it, we'll die before we find out. That's why we sometimes cry for no particular reason. It's like if we were living a tragic life and we could just feel that it's tragic without knowing why.

Messing with many girls at the same time, being exhausted by our relationships and starting to act bizarre, and when everything is over and we have a rest we awake up and find out how it really was, how we were at that time. We would cry for insignificant purposes during those tumultuous moments. We would float, sink, rage, become unrecognizable for our relatives.

No shame: no me no shame. Be ready to believe anything or go throw yourself into the river.

2005-07-25T19:26:00.000-07:00

Art primitif

2005-07-25T19:23:00.000-07:00

Plaisanteries et mystère

2005-07-25T19:21:00.000-07:00

Baseball

2005-07-25T19:18:00.000-07:00

Soirée au club

2005-07-25T19:16:00.000-07:00

Mer antibiotique (Dead Sea)

2005-07-25T19:10:00.000-07:00

Alpiniste solitaire la nuit

2005-07-25T19:05:00.000-07:00

L'Ouest

2005-07-25T18:57:00.000-07:00

Dreamers