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.

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.

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.

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

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.

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.

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.

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?