...death is.
Your dear mère grand, and today I learn one of my best friends, a guy I've known for more than 33 years and whit whom I shared most of my youngster and young adult experiences has a terminal cancer - brain tumour to wide spread to be completely eradicated through cirjury.
He will go to the hospital monday.
Operated Thursday.
I don't know if he'll ever get out or if he risks passing on the table.
I need to see him but I'm absolutely penniless.
It hits hard to know someone so vibrant and full of life might be gone and you don't even get a chance to say goodbye. It got tears to my eyes.
Death is a part of life, but I don't really know how to handle it, never did (that's why I'm not bugging you latelly, I really don't have a clue of what to say, I know nothing more than to offer you my love).
Life could be simpler sometimes...
...guess I'll
C you around - in life.
C you around
jeudi 3 mai 2012
dimanche 26 février 2012
Words
A few little words of appreciation just lit my day - simple words of someone who wants to share something with me.
That's probably what I'm missing most, to mean something (meaningful would be better) to someone.
I wash myself in the dim glow of those little words and warm my heart to their sound.
mercredi 8 février 2012
"I"
"I" is a fiction built upon the though that without Others we are something.
The fall of a tree in the forest is noiseless because there's no one there to listen.
The physical phenomenon is of no importance.
Presence is the worthy and all justifying variable.
Not the presence of the fictionnal "I"
But the presence of the Others that make the fiction real.
For what is a fiction without an audience?
And what is an audience without an author?
What are the Others without the "I"?
What is the "I" without the Others?
Nothing.
To exist is to be present.
To be present is to relate.
Existince Is relation.
Built bridges.
Broken bridges.
Untended bridges.
And Me?
What am I without
You?
And Me?
What am I without
"I"?
Whatever is it that "I" am,
Hope to
C you around
The fall of a tree in the forest is noiseless because there's no one there to listen.
The physical phenomenon is of no importance.
Presence is the worthy and all justifying variable.
Not the presence of the fictionnal "I"
But the presence of the Others that make the fiction real.
For what is a fiction without an audience?
And what is an audience without an author?
What are the Others without the "I"?
What is the "I" without the Others?
Nothing.
To exist is to be present.
To be present is to relate.
Existince Is relation.
Built bridges.
Broken bridges.
Untended bridges.
And Me?
What am I without
You?
And Me?
What am I without
"I"?
Whatever is it that "I" am,
Hope to
C you around
Violent Poetry - Horreur du Vide
This is a text I already published on Facebook, but the topic of "Violent Poetry" just came to my mind today and so I decided to have a go at it and "Horreur du Vide" was already writen, which turned out handy.
I will on occasion post other stuff - be warned, I don't write on a regular basis and seldom happy thoughts...
Most of the times you just get sadness over something, it's my way of ridding myself of troublesome feelings...
Here it goes, for what it's worth.
Horreur du Vide
I will on occasion post other stuff - be warned, I don't write on a regular basis and seldom happy thoughts...
Most of the times you just get sadness over something, it's my way of ridding myself of troublesome feelings...
Here it goes, for what it's worth.
Horreur du Vide
Que le jour de ma naissance soit oublié
Que ce jour devienne un jour de ténèbres
Que la lumière n'y soit pas
Que le noir le plus profond l'embrasse dans son sein
Qu'une éclipse solaire le torture
Que les ténèbres y emportent la nuit
Qu'il ne puisse pas trouver sa place
Dans la séquence des jours et des mois
Que sa nuit soit stérile
Une nuit sans un son de joie
Que ceux qu'y éveillent la lumière maudissent ce jour
Que les étoiles du matin n'y voient pas le soleil
Que les premiers rayons de soleil ne chauffent pas sa nuit
Qu'il n'ouvre pas les portes au ventre de ma mère
Quand je suis arrivé au Monde
Des cuisses n'auraient pas dû m'accueillir
Des seins n'auraient pas dû me nourrir
Pourquoi ne suis-je pas mort dans ses bras?
J’aurais été enterré, jeté comme un avorton
Comme un enfant qui n'a jamais vu la lumière
Je n'aurais jamais connu la plénitude
Pour la perdre après et vivre
l'Horreur du Vide
C you around...
mercredi 1 février 2012
The Dancer
Lovely song - would love to have someone play it or sing it for my, meaning it if for the length of the track
That's the kind of tune that makes you feel all emotional and mushy inside, don't you agree with me?
Tell me the next time I
C you around
vendredi 20 janvier 2012
window to the world
is this my new window to the world?
i regret already having shared this url with too many ppl, I already feel restricted in what i write or not
in the long term i suppose it is of no importance, i woun't give a fuck if someone reads what i wrote in the past
but right now i feel like writing about sex, emotions, decisions and life and this won't be the place to do it anymore - too many potential readers
i do ask myself what's the point of a blog, then...
...i suppose it replaces the (now) old-fashioned intimate journal, but being accessible to a lot of different ppl through our own modern ocean we so like to surf, it becomes kind of pointless... besides, i type faster than i write, nowadays...
what pushes ppl to bare their souls for the world to see?
why am i doing this and feeling the need to do it?
do i need to communicate that badly? whom am i writing to? do i expect answers?
my present answer to all my questions is just i don't know
this is not my first "unconfort" post in this blog, and i tire of this ranting myself...
i have a plan for this blog - i'll be using it to write the "book" i've been telling myself for years i shall write
the one where the action takes place in two different places and three different epochs in time, where cause and relation do not follow logic, where the flap of butterfly wings just cause a sceptic to fall from his pedestal and look for a soft bosom to lay his head on
i believe i'll start doing that as of my next post
and i might (or not) start a new, more personnal blogsans readers, where i'll be abble to express myself without fearing the consequences or the impact of my words on others
i'll think about that one, because i can achieve the same feeling of pouring my soul to the paper just writing a doc file...
in any case, this blog will keep on living, at least for a while, so
C you around
i regret already having shared this url with too many ppl, I already feel restricted in what i write or not
in the long term i suppose it is of no importance, i woun't give a fuck if someone reads what i wrote in the past
but right now i feel like writing about sex, emotions, decisions and life and this won't be the place to do it anymore - too many potential readers
i do ask myself what's the point of a blog, then...
...i suppose it replaces the (now) old-fashioned intimate journal, but being accessible to a lot of different ppl through our own modern ocean we so like to surf, it becomes kind of pointless... besides, i type faster than i write, nowadays...
what pushes ppl to bare their souls for the world to see?
why am i doing this and feeling the need to do it?
do i need to communicate that badly? whom am i writing to? do i expect answers?
my present answer to all my questions is just i don't know
this is not my first "unconfort" post in this blog, and i tire of this ranting myself...
i have a plan for this blog - i'll be using it to write the "book" i've been telling myself for years i shall write
the one where the action takes place in two different places and three different epochs in time, where cause and relation do not follow logic, where the flap of butterfly wings just cause a sceptic to fall from his pedestal and look for a soft bosom to lay his head on
i believe i'll start doing that as of my next post
and i might (or not) start a new, more personnal blog
i'll think about that one, because i can achieve the same feeling of pouring my soul to the paper just writing a doc file...
in any case, this blog will keep on living, at least for a while, so
C you around
lundi 16 janvier 2012
Life, music and dreams
I took a couple of days off, which means I'm home for four full days in a row.
I didn't have the kids around this weekend;
Should I stay at the sofa, hit the kitchen table?
I didn't have the kids around this weekend;
Just spent some time by myself, getting up to date with sleep (it's been a rough couple of months on that department, been chatting around an awful lot with an insomniac lovely lady and I get up early in the morning...), reading a few pages, surfing, job hunting, no serious stuff.
I actually don't know that much where I'm going right now...
I'm talking about Life in general...
I have some important decisions to make, some regarding money, some regarding family. I quit trying to decide anything about love because it never ever turns out the way I want expect.
But all of the above are getting me in a turmoil.
I once wrote - and if I didn't write it I told it to a lot of people, I'm sure - the only way (for me, up to now) to get over someone is to find the next one.
I NEED to find that next one.
The good part in this is that intelectually I know exactly where I am, but this sack of blood, shit, sperm and bones is not that good at acknowledging what the mind tells it (a bit like a slam by Grands Corps Malade http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=EvmG8vjm-Q8).
I live a period in life where problems (money, divorce, etc) are starting to untangle, where I have people who care for me and people I care for, but I'm not happy and I don't like it.
Better yet, I decided to do something about it.
I just don't know what!
It would be a lot easier if the people I care for and the people that care for me were one and the same, so I guess that should be my priority.
But I told you before I stopped trying in that department, due to that want expectectations issue.
Life isn't made of dreams, even if I sometimes wish it were.
In the mean time, I've got my books and my music and someone to talk to and have interesting conversations, so I'll just make the best out of it while I don't reach a conclusion.
You'll be in it, for certain, whichever it is.
C you around
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