03-29-2008
I would never forget
Deeper and Deeper.
Etienne had been drinking. Me too I was drunk. We went to the bar to recharge our glasses as if it would have been the fuel
for our trip downstairs or upstairs in the booth and in the
labyrinth. Then we returned twith our glasses filled with the edge we sowing necessarily walking, leaving behind us a trail of beer. We stood against the walls in places of transit and on laughing as
silly, but it lent, men who came to us, daring, which touched us
nicely, and that in gloussant returns, or those who were waiting with a
look humble lying naked in the sling or in the backrooms of darkness. Our insolence and our cavalier in this atmosphere of loneliness bartered against sex in subdued light would make us laugh. Alcohol, too, made us drunk.
It was as if we were detached from what everyone was there, as if we drifted above this human misery. Sometimes we attach
to a man who went there, we will stick to him for not stagger and we asked, things that do not need to ask in these places of
anonymity, the first name and age, occupation and a lot of private
stuff. With an assortment of ratings throwed with laughs, the one who would say the most incisive remark. The most wicked, maybe. And then in the depths of a backroom where I smoked a clope, hidden by Etienne, a man came touchdowning him. And Etienne was left to do, and soon, he found himself on his knees in front of him.
In the alcoholic fog where I was, I saw him on his knees making
movements with his head, and then another man came, and soon Etienne
has been lost in the mass of bodies blurred which revealed the extent
to groans their skins extraordinarily white. This wasn't more than a moving cloud of moaning and rubbing white skins,
it was more than just a pile of bodies stretched amoncelés emergence
and away, which started a dance on-site with several difficult Leaders
tempo and a coward. I took out my iPod to put myself Othon Mataragas deeply
in the ears, sitting on a small bench from the bottom, and I watched
this ethereal magic of loneliness that sends itself to break out of
luck on the body of the other. Then Etienne stood up, dominated by
its size this heap of bodies collected against him, he lifted his hands
to rest against the ceiling in old stone cellar, and around him small
forms turned blurred, touched, carressed him, seemed to want to
steal the best part of his body, Etienne groaning, I wanted me to laugh.
I left and started talking with C., who
works at Carrefour, cashier with an inferiority complex, which made him
say it is host cash-in-chief or something like that. And then there was P., also master of ceremonies in a big French restaurant. The issue was whether to know if Larry King was a personality or not. For C., at Carrefour, which had received in his shop, it was obvious. For P. not, for the master of ceremonies, because all the same, my job, he said is placing personalities
according to their affinities, it is necessary to read a lot in my job
(of the trash press away?), then no, Larry King is not a personality.
I can say nothing more, I wanted to become invisible in a corner. Let us never see me that you do not imagine for one moment that something will happen, nothing will happen.
03-28-2008
The night I felt in love with David Bobee.
He weared city shoes, classics, Bonnie would say to me
that togs it is a costume of tribal membership, but this small leather
black shoes, me I made fun of it, and that this stinks of
transpiration also, I made fun of it. Even the blue shirt, chosen to
bring to light the eyes, I found this cool. Bonnie, her, would say that
he makes too much republican , which means too clean on him. That's true that he has a side just like that, very 'bourgeoisie' of countryside, banker or very I-work-on-marketing-on-was-at-Yale .
But Dave, no, he is not this, no marketing or figure of the bourgeoisie of countryside, he is a movie director and at night he speaks to the French television to say hyper-clever knack. Guy's type whom excuse
themselves rather well of thing. He staged: Cannibals, which I shall go to
see. He has its own site and its own myspace,
which I right away was to see. It is the night I felt in love with
David Bobbe and the night I reserved place of to go to the theatre. (it is
'tv effect', I know). Me I have just wanted to make love to
him, to david, and however hope that he speaks to me the same things which
he told on France 2 that night and then I just had to go to lie down,
also.
03-27-2008
Terrace of the Hollywood, Houston, Texas (08 03 26)
He limps to go to its car, and me I look at him. A moment, I tell to myself if only I still had my small face of whore, when I had 20 years old and, I would go to see him and I would say to him bring me back to my hotel,
and it would have groped with me on itinerary, but this would have been
so much more comfortable to be sitting down in its big car with the
conditioned air rather than to take the one dollar bus to come back.
Opposite in the terrace,
there was a couple of 17-year-old Mexicans, they had their uniform of
the secondary school, she had big breast and he had frost in
hair. He caught her by walking on the sidewalk,
she escaped him mildly. It was a game between the sadism of
childhood and fever increases of sexual wishes.
As I looked at him, the old lame person closed again his car, he came on the terrace by saying to me 'hey'.
I barely answered, I right away regretted of what I thought, but I am
in order say that in the bottom, if I jogged in front of him, he would draw me 100 boxes. That it would be cool to have
them, I'm no more payed since I passed my 20 years old time.
They pass
behind a car, he has jam her against an electrical post, they embrace
each other, I do not see any more very well what there happens. It
comes out again with Tshirt which shows on the front under her polo marked with her school.
He gropes with me, he crosses the hands on me, I have pretend
not to speak English to avoid myself speaking to
him, he asks me if I fuck girls or guys by making me signs with his checked off index which slips into the roundness of two fingers from his left hand.
He has flight her towards the post, she is allowed to go,
pretendeding that she was going too much far already, she feels like it.
Shone, he exhilarates to go so far, he does not have border
anymore.
He slips the hand on my blue jeans, and me I withdraw the
hand wildly, I knew that he would make this old Texan stupid
bastard, I ask God that he leaves me alone with these firm
and decided caresses.
He rouses her of the post, he stays a
bit on his hunger. He is almost sad to see her piqued. He smiles,
she walks, he has to follow her, push her a bit in plants on the
edge, rattrappe her.
Me I get
worked up, just like that I howl him to clear. On the terrace,
everybody looks at me, without seeing I smell looks on me. I howl
him to clear, in English, me which was not suppose to speak
it.
03-20-2008
Your mouth, my lover.
That's strange, you know,
this guy in front of the reception at the hotel he dispatched people,
and it was very small, he had like 5 ft, but it is a detail, he was a good
Japanese, then he is normal whether this size, but it is still a detail. This little guy, you know, he had your mouth. This same form at the bottom of the face that extends to a generous mouth. There was that you who had the mouth for me to recognize the 15721 km. So I looked at him, long ago, I found it
was very strange for a Western look reflecting his mouth, telling me
that this generous mouth is what aimantaient people to you, it could
not only be that. Now I am no longer angry with you, then I do not want to worry. Rather, I will find even rather ugly, looking back at you. But this mouth, really, I swear it was yours.
No-no-no-no-no-no-noooooooo
I want to send everything out to take myself away, away from everything. I am not going to make
it, I just feel like. Sometimes I want to make the whore in the Wood of
Boulogne, or walk along a sidewalk of Pigalle. Sometimes I want to
dope myself to make bleed the nasal partitions. Or smoke. Just to remember me this feeling to reimburse, regulations at every whiff, that
a small end of my life escapes and that during so nice as I could
put in chains a whole packet without stopping. It is a soft suicide as
a poison that I smell slip into my veins and pervade. Afterwards I think of horrible knack, of a hole in the voice box to
breathe, of blackened teeth, a cancer of the throat. And then I listen
to Gainsbourg, I am not able more than of listening to this. I feel close to Louise, I want to say to her let us burn ourselves
wings, you and me, I also feel scabby sometimes. We could, make shit,
be made fucked as whores in a dirty backroom of the south of the
Europe, and play each other the doll with the other one, with of sperm dried on the corner of the eye that I would lick with
pleasure by crushing you a lip stick on your small lips of strict
woman. Instead of this, no, nothing. Nothing of all this, not backroom in the south of the Europe and desire
to commit suicide slowly with the old putrid AIDS taken out from an old
creased bite. It is just a fantasy, as the whore, narcotic and fag.
03-19-2008
My heart belongs to my daddy.
He's got a child, the name of it, I forget, for sunday, he writes I'm sorry not to send you back a bigger mail 'cause many events make me crazy. About the child, he writes it came with an advance of a month and a half (sunday), so it needs some attention, you understand. And also do you remember me? And at the end of the mail see you soon. His dick I know it by heart, I imagine it sliping between the lips of the vagina of his wife, I saw it so much
times coming that I imagine this instant definitely when his dick starts and where of a big impulse semen flows before leaving its dick like dead, emptied of his blood sip and of sperm to do warm. I had it first of all
the world, the semen in the stomac, I carried first of all the world
his potential child, then not, I did not forget. Neither it, nor its sperm, nor its tail.
03-11-2008
(Mister) freeze.
Everybody
talks of Freeze Party, the performance or street scene where people
freeze and not moving for a minute more to the amazement of others,
those who do not 'freeze'(look) ridicule. Pardon all misters Freeze, I have
nothing against your desire to play live models and static, but if you
could just give you a political message or even apolitical, a message,
what, something that it has done a sense, it would be a little nicer
than to do it in the wind. And then in addition, I want
to say no, but Sunday is still 44% of French (and it's a little more
than in 3000, which freezed at Trocadero), in short, 44% of French
have made a party Freeze staying home instead of going to vote ... And you know what? They
had a message them: their message was roughly I will vote when the mayor
of my town will not take care of until they put the worst to the left or
the right or the center wing, then inevitably, it makes a lot
of freezeurs of a sudden ... And with that they were surprised that the number of
voters declining with every election, those who warm to the buttocks
that denies them the wheelchair Louix XVI red velvet when they want to
sit. Oh yes,
in fact, we not forget in passing that fatherhood is for the Freeze Act
Up, and a freeze (Act Up call it a Die-In), in short, a freeze of Act
Up with a message, it done something else at the trips that just what
we can see in this video:
== Publicité ==