I can’t be.

Image

I’ve been a really really bad writer this year, ( as the previous one… but well, i believe in constance).

But I couldn’t miss the occasion to wish my babyblog a happy 2 years anniversary.

It has growned really slowly… you know, just like this kind of retarded kids, really slow.
The ones everybody know they’re retarded but nobody would tell cause the mom is too sensitive, and likes to pretend her kid is not different.
My blog’s not retarded, just… it likes to take its time, to learn things, to comprehend stuff and to be able to talk about it.

All in all, this year was a tremendous, incredible, beautiful, big bowl of shit.

Nothing was happening.

I mean Not a fucking actual little something happend for a good three quarter of the year, and all of the sudden people started to die.

They just dropped dead.

It was sad and all, but C’est la vie, and we all know that.

Truth to be told, it wasn’t all this bad.

Some micro-good-event happened… I think… I’m not sure what right now, but I believe they’ve happened.
(Tom Hardy films… mainly.)

So what I hope for next year is more mega-good-things to come, achievement, happiness and so much much more love.

We lack love, we have a distorded vision of love, love’s not easy maybe, but it’s all that matters.

I’m going sentimental here, but this is just once a year.

So now let’s be thankful for it was worthing it.

I’ll be thankful for my family.
Thankful for the tea.
Thankful for the friends.
Thankful for the pyjamas.
Thankful for the litterature.
Thankful for the music.

This is not a lot of thing, but I am not a lot of things.

Here I quit for the year.

I have a chicken to roast with my mum.

Bisous

Goddamn it, how real is this?

If you keep doing the same things, you keep getting the same results.

This is as bold as concrete, but yet one better remember this, since we can easily got caught  in a  loop, and soon enough you can’t find a way out.

When it’s time to make it out.

It’s small paces, even if we all are from a generation who believe in gigantics over dos, but there’s no such thing, realistically, you just gotta take it slowly, and make a change a piece at a time.

For those who believe in mighty futures, and bright destinies.

For the rest of us who do not feel so, we do what we’re here to do.

We’re all trapped in our century foolishness thinking it’s possible for all of us to reach for the stars and moons and suns, I call it the Great Deception.

Some of us would reach only for tree roots, some other for the leaves, and once in a while, here and there someone would reach for those constellations…

We’re equal and stuff they say…

I do believe in equality for the simple fact of being born a human, but don’t fool me into thinking we can all become great characters.
It’s more than okay to keep it low, and being average.

There’s some beauty in that too.

For some of us…

That’s my point.

And since I wasn’t just gonna disappear like that, I want you all to give me a yey for London this year, they made some good stuff at FW.

Usual good points for Milan and Paris.

Oh and since it’s been forever, let’s make a quick summary about what I saw this last weeks, starting with the awaited The Dark Knight Rises, I loved it, ( that was fully expected, right? ), and then, since the cast was pretty similar to Inception’s, I gave it another try, because first time… despite my enlighted brain I didn’t really understand everything.

Second time was the same, but well, I kinda just focused on Tom Hardy, so, hummm … whatever about the story.

Then I saw Warrior ( maybe 4 times in 2 weeks ) maybe because of my inconditional obsession ( does that sound too much ?) about Tom Hardy, then I saw Lawless, ( same reasons) , and to keep myself on the loop I saw Tinker, Tailor, Soldier Spy, which has a great storytelling I believe( and Tom hardy also) but despite my ( as you all know) Brain, I just understood shit to this movie. But yet there was Tom Hardy.

Voilà this is it.

I actually miss writing here, but the truth is , I don’t have a life ( but Tom hardy, so expect hearing from me around his next movie ) .

Bisous Bye Bye.

Capricorn

…and suddenly , something happened.

Something that make other things look real again, which make things I usually find so important, not so relevent any more, and at the same time make things I barely care about,  feel true again.
Should it be difficult to explain, and yet as clear as crystal to get.
Because we all know, somehow, what I am talking about.
And here, it is just what matters.

I hope every single one of us will get what they want, will do what they love, and will understand what’s really important to them.

Cause at the end of the day, it’s just us; and the rest of what we use to be, just are memories, what we leave behind, our legacy.

Peso

Aside

Lately my life kinda tastes like milk.

It looks good, sooth and white from the outside.

It tastes oilish and digusting in the mouth.

And there is just no way for me to digest it.

God knows that i’m lactose intolerant, but what about life intolerant ?

I don’t dance

Je reviens de vacances.
Or je n’ai été nulle part, mais je suis partie quand même.
Un petit débranchement surprise, des libertés que l’on prend soi-même , sinon on se fait bouffer.
Pas une migraine en 10 jours, et là , voilà que ça me torpille l’esprit.
Je suis un vrai produit des réactions psychosomatiques, apparement.

Comme d’habitude, chez moi le moins fais le plus, les longues nuits sériesphages, les longs diners enfumés, les quelques minutes de sport pour la bonne conscience, courir les blockbusters, et se complaire dans l’oisiveté offerte par les joies de la capitale comme finir à deguster un burger au lieu de se taper 2 heures de queue au Grand Palais pour voir les expos les plus courrues du moment à savoir  Newton ou encore Monumenta.
Prendre des kilos, perdre des kilos, gagner de l’argent, dépenser de l’argent, s’etourdir de music toute la nuit dans ce que Paris à a offrir en terme de divertissement pour sa jeunesse dorée, argentée et même bronzée des fois…

Vivre une vie sans sens, c’est pas marrant, mais vu que nous sommes rien d’autres que des rejetons de la machine, avons-nous vraiment le choix?

Voilà c’était des vacances, et ce fut bien sympas.

 

 

Heavyweight

Je suis un monstre.
Un monstre de flemmardise, je suis tellement montrueuse de flemmardise que c’en est effrayant.

Je suis une fille effrayée.

De toute façon, ça c’est clair et ce n’est plus à prouver.
Je passe tranquillement à côté de ma vie.
Ma vie, et la votre aussi, c’est simple, c’est une ligne , longiligne, courbe, en zig zag, morcelée, longue , ou courte, bref, c’est une ligne, et moi  je marche à côté de la mienne.
Je dis souvent, ” j’aimerais bien qu’il existe des CD avec plusieures de nos vies parallèles compilées dessus pour voir où les differents choix qu’on a pu faire aurait pu nous mener” , comme dans l’Effet Papillon ou Mister Nobody, pour celles qui, comme moi ont une profonde culture Kutcher/Leto…. blablabla, je digresse, donc c’est débile.
Et bien ça ne sert à rien, toute cette reflexion,  étant donné que de toute façon je n’ai aucun mal à savoir ce qu’aurait pu être ma vie , mon autre vie, vu que je marche à côté, tout près, et que du coup je vois ce que l’autre moi est entrain de faire, et que moi je ne fais pas.

La seule différence, c’est que Ma Vie s’étend un peu plus loin, je sais pas ou elle va, ni à quelle point elle est longue, merci je ne suis pas dieu, mais la ligne sur laquelle je marche, qui est ma vie paralléle, mais qui est enfaite ma vraie vie , vu que c’est celle que je vis, elle, elle avance au rythme de mes pas, parce que je ne sais pas ou je vais, et parce que je vis sous l’illusion quotidienne q’un jour elle va se perpendicularisée, et se confondre avec ma-vie-que-je-ne-vis-pas.

Mais je suis une fille effrayée.
Qui, en vrai, n’a peur de rien sauf de la mort, dont d’ailleurs je n’ai pas peur, mais qui m’énerve parce que c’est la fin de tout ce que je connais.
Bref.
Mais comme je vis en faux, alors je suis effrayée.
Et le pire c’est que la majeure partie du temps, ça ne me pose aucun problème.

Head Bangers

Live fast die young bad girls do it well.

(Not linked to the article, just my daily earworm- this word ‘s disgusting.)

Have I told you all, I was in New York few weeks ago?
Not me toute seule. Me and a part of Family Depore.
This is our foretaste for 2012, one of our ten most fucked up days for a while.
Our sleep hours were messed up, the food was poisening, New York’s just a city,  the nightlife actually is a eveninglife, and eventually the Fashion Week … well that was not Paris.
Though, guess what ?
It was great.

I enjoyed every minute of this journey.
We were our genuine fucked up ourselves, fucking up NY subway, I believe Line 1 is still dealing with some kind of Ptsd, taxi drivers retailiated enjoying themselves driving us crazy.
We became in a matter of few days Barney’s most loyal customers, stealing this leadership from Idontknowhat upper eastsiders long-time clients.
Most New Yorkers were close to do the remake of 1773 Boston Tea Party cause we were trying to figure out how much exactly they were serious about this anti-smoking thing ( they really are) , and most restaurant retailiated by giving us only food which was solely prepared in Fukushima.
But we are brave and stuff, so we took our purple (-well chocolate/strawberry) swag from Brooklyn ( which is a ghost version of Berlin-Prenzlauerberg, which itself is a ghost version of a city), to the not so high Empire State Building, to the nice Soho, and China-tout-court, not forgetting a serious time laughing just front of 9/11 memorial, ( the giggles and the 9/11 ARE NOT related ) I want to precise that, since we have serious concerns about an office ( the FBI apparently) which may be watching us.

I’m tired.

Check out the video.

To summ up I have lost 2kg, so what is it to complain about ?

All credits : To Fanny.

Starring: Well, The Depore family.

Gallows

Aside

 
I tend to be quite narrowminded when it comes to trends.
I know it sounds odd for a fashion lover like me.
Whatever, it has nothing to do with fashion.
But oui, I hate trends, and pretty much everything related to social turmoils.
I always swear to myself I won’t be writing about fashion for example (even if obviously i can’t help it) , because of the really simple fact that EVERY BODY DOES SO.

Every single soul in this planet seems to be attracted to fashion, the SAME WAY I mean.
Posting mood board about the same things, having the same crush about the same miu miu what, and celine who, wanting the same hair do as an anna something ( there are plenty, pick one) , or the same make up statement as a shithole extracted underage girl became fashion icon.

Moui, this is more or less what I mean.

I have to spill it the way it is, I hate loving , even being slighlty attracted to the same thing a mass of people may like too.
It’s just who I am.
I dislike this tendency people have to drop the name of the books they read, cause all fucking other hipsters are, or how they drink only soy milk because they all happen to be be lactose intolerant, or how they find themselves obsessed with a sport nobody was talking about few months before.
And they shall bragg about it everytime, everyday , everyway all over this fucking place named internet.

I rather not be related to them.
And non I won’t say ” look it’s funny i’m just like them, and I have a somewhat inner psychic issue that makes me hate everything looking like me , but somehow I’m the same as them”

Cause I’m not.
I’m some kind of an elitist, anti mass-phaenomenom, misanthrop born.
It’s kinda hard to cope with that en vrai, but I’m cool enough to be able to cope through the decades and being still able to have a social existence.
Seriously.
It’s not easy to hate everything an important amount of person seem to love.
What does that says about you as a person ?

Really I don’t know, it’s somewhere inside me.
I like things being anonymous, disclosed just between a few people who would share it together.
I like feeling true passion in interest about a subject.

I like not understanding why ones loves old cars, or 19th century architecture, or odd south pacific whatever rare fish way of life…
I like feeling people are not all the same.
And that ‘s it.

Maybe i’ll change.
I don’t know if this is a lifetime statement.
Maybe my four-decades old me would thing, Jeez, I was so full of shit back on the time.
Maybe.

Ignorant Art

My life is a lot about food.
I like food, it’s simple.
My relationship with food is really easy.
Sometimes it gets a bit  messed up and we can’t deal with each other for a little while, but in the end, we work things out, and we can get back to where we stopped.

Me and Food, we have our habits, our schedules, our favorite rituals but we still like to surprise each other time to time.
Being impredictable sometimes, is always helpful in a relationship.
This way, it never gets boring…  even though, you know, it’s hard to keep the passion flammes vivid every day.
But it’s not as if there’s a chance in this world we may end up split away.

Food is comforting.
Yet, i’m about to talk like desperate-teenagers/middle-aged-women, ( oui, I’m desperate, but non I’m not so much of a teenager anymore my age also says, neither middle-aged-whatever), anyway, my point is  food does not lie to you , food does not deceive you ( yes it’s not food that makes you believe you won’t gain weight, it’s your retarded mind), food does not show up late , food does not forget about you, trust me on this one.
Basically, Food is like a best friend you can eat.

There’s an incredible amount of food i just hate, but the ones i love… it’s just hard to find the words.

 

Happy Birthday to me.

Nuit

At some point i’ll have to make it become true.

The whole thing about going far away, not only kilometers, even if kilometers are part of the whole thing.
But first, i’ll need to deport myself off the comfort zone.
This really one I, and so many of us kids have spent this last twenty years in.
At some point i’ll have to let the leash go, let the security go, let the love, even, go.
Screwing these boundaries and finding new ones… or finding none.
Being up the hill and scream everything out my lungs and whatever’s down there.
At some point i’ll have to come clean about what i really am, and what i really want.
I want to witness everything, i want to feel lost but feeling as I belong at the same time, i want to cry over beauty, i want to feel hate over the worst.
I want to feel again.
I want to be deafened by silence.
I want to spend time doing absolutely nothing.
Nothing.
And since i believe there’s no such thing as doing nothing, i’ll enjoy spending time doing nothing.
I’ll enjoy every minute of understanding what time means.

And since it’s not about betraying myself, I will drink tea in odd places, and keep sleeping at the wrong hours.

At some point i’ll need to do this to fulfill this something inside of me.
But not tomorrow, I guess, I have some business to attend.