love, relationship, love, relationship, love, rela....

Love is love.It is a but a mere emotion.Period.

Relationships on the other hand, oh my, what I can I tell you? They say they need to be healthy to work.As if, we didn't know that.
There are all sorts of theories on how to make a relationship work.Big words like honesty, accountability, trust, respect, equality and so on are evoked.Thing is, we all have our weaknesses and we sometimes fail to understand that love does not necessarily save the day.

The first half of the year saw me asking whether our relationship was enough to sustain love and the second part whether love was enough to sustain our relationship.We are hitting the 7 year itch, so will we make it? I don't have a damn idea.Is love still relevant? Yeah, most probably.

All I can do from my side is to hold on to values and freedom of thought.
What about romance in all that? Well, just another collateral damage.shit happens.

And through it all...

sings Robbie Williams.

I woke up early this morning, just to listen to the house breathe.
It felt reassuring to know that it all in all, it had witnessed a quiet year and that good care had been taken of it such that in return, it protected the whole family from (un) intended harm.
Home truly felt like the safest place to be in this year of the snake, knowing that quite a few tragedies were taking place out there in the big bad world. 2013 will not be wrapped with greasy paper nor tied with a golden ribbon. By now, we all ought to know that it's the way of the world that things go awfully bad or surprisingly well sometimes. The bad came with the demise of loved ones, the end of relationships, rejections, failures to launch and the good came in the shape of new found wisdom and peace of mind.

Projects for 2014? Well, the usual: Aim for the moon and with some luck fall on a star.

Chapter 41

(Chapter 41 is in fact chapter 40 revisited. Same will apply to chapters 42 - 49)

What happens from age 40 to age 41?

1) You realize that the company of a bottle of wine is sometimes better than that of a lover. You can see, swirl, sniff, sip and savor with no supervision knowing its languorous taste will flirt endlessly with your senses.

2) You decide to patch up with everyone.
You fear that middle age crisis will hit you straight in the face when you least expect it and since you are running out of time, you tell yourself that the only way out is to make amends. Tolerance becomes a key word in your vocabulary.

3) You remember there is something called a 'retirement plan' and decide to check its status. You hesitate between increasing it or plan another trip whilst you are still 'young'.

4) You eventually opt for the trip and leave the rest to destiny.

5) You start watching documentaries and think that there is something illicit about that new coziness

Les maux aléatoires

Les  mots n'ont pas d'importance.C'est la lumière dans mes yeux qui a de l'importance. Celle qui laisse transparaitre mon être à chaque fois que j'appuie ma joue contre ta poitrine et que j'entends les coups de ton coeur se mêler à la vibration des vagues sur le socle de mon île.
Tu es ma terre natale, ma maison, ma raison.

Je suis là, debout sur le sable chaud à regarder cette mer qui est d'un bleu qui déchire la vue. Un frisson me parcourt le corps, ce frisson qui donne la proximité de la vérité.

Tu finiras par partir toi aussi.

La rumeur, douce et glissante, est venue se déposer à mes pieds par l'écume des vagues.La vaste étendue de l'océan ne se trompe jamais.La mer est profonde, parfois malveillante et sa sentence est tombée:

Tu finiras par partir mais tu ne le sais pas encore.

Nous ne parlons pas.Juste quelques mots, comme une mélodie.Le vent du large est rude et tranchant. Il s'acharne à balayer ce moment pour qu'il n'y ait plus de poésie mais le soleil, le récif et les coraux, eux sont devenus nos vraies paroles et témoigneront de notre existence.

Le temps, impalpable nous recouvre de la fumée des rêves.Il n'y a pas d'avenir, pas de demain. Ce moment doit être éternel, virant lentement avec la terre autour de l'axe planté dans nos coeurs.

Time stood still

I came back from Rodrigues, a place where every night you listen to the sea serenely narrating its day to you.There, the nasty world with its tentacles of rumours and fears cannot get hold of you.I sat by the jetty and watched the people coming back from fishing and I decided that I would hang on to that image. I will never dare share it with anyone.
I will not tell you about the lady with the glowing aura who laughingly told me that I was 'blanc kouma ene gato la krème'. I will not tell you about Zean Filip, that 10 year old kid with one slipper who initiated us to fishing. I will not tell you about my morning walk from Port Mathurin to the deserted beach of Baladirou and how alive I felt.I will not tell you about the gato sept fois, the boudoute, the politaine and the lady who asked my sister to buy her a pok pok. I will not tell you about the magic that came out of madam jeanette's pots.
I will definitely not tell you how I came back home leaving my spirit behind to wander under the filaos trees of Gravier.

Only feelings can understand the heartbeat of that island.

I went.I saw. I became.

The undeniable untruth

I was watching Cloud Atlas when I heard Sonmi-451 say: "Truth is singular. Its 'versions' are mistruths"
That was exactly the point from where all started 03 years ago for me when I set out on this quest to understand the 'why' & 'how' of samsara.

Il fait nuit et ma journée appartient déjà au passé. What did I learn today? qu'une vie riche n'est pas forcément une vie accomplie. Ma vie se doit d'être un immense graffiti où l'on pourrait tagger à tout va.

Vidange de l'âme depuis plusieurs semaines car lacune au coeur pour coeur laconique. j'ai eu besoin de repartir à la reconquête de moi même et cela se solde par la conclusion que je suis un esprit doté d'un corps et non un corps doté d'un esprit. Jack Kornfield disait: "Quand nous prenons la place qui est la nôtre, nous découvrons que nous sommes inébranlables". Tout est résumé, là, dans cette simple phrase.

A day in the life

I look at the world and I know that it is slowly turning
For each mistake I should surely be learning
That life is but a question of fine tuning
And I'd still be hurting

Road map

My private party

Your laughter is like the bubbles of the freshly poured champagne in a crystal glass.

Your body, the music that gently sways me across the floor.

Your arrogant airs, the tempestuous flame of a party candle that ignites my senses.

I am mystified.You are the double edged sword that will see me alive or dead before dawn.

You are my own private party

Requiem pour un rêve

j'attends chaque soir que la nuit vienne fissurer mes rêves
afin de voir à travers un clair de lune
la réalité éclipser les nocturnes de chopin

la nuit ne m'appartient pas
elle appartient à l'autre
pour qui je renais dans les songes

des fleurs pour mettre un peu de lumière
un feu de cheminée pour donner de la saveur
et un peu de musique pour parfumer la pièce
de là peuvent naitre toutes les possibilités

la pudeur et l'impudence,
la moiteur et l'indolence,
la candeur et l'insolence

l'esprit ainsi hydraté est lourd de conséquences

With a little help, hopefully...

Love lost its way

Hopefully it will be able to make it
To the house of charity

The roads of void won't help

'No entry' signs at every corner

'No waiting' on sideways

'No trespassing' on every property

If, at least it were trapped

'twould stand somewhere, still

It's wandering on the streets instead

Like a weirdo

Love's a weirdo

It used to enter everywhere

Not anymore

Hatred is the new love

It enters everywhere

Que sait-on?

Je pense à toi d'horizon en horizon car mes mots perlés ne servent plus à grand chose.
tant de bruit m'entoure et tant de silence te voile. je te perds à chaque réveil et je me perds à chaque réalité.cela est un fait.
que sait-on vraiment quand on prétend tant aimer? l'expérience n'est que le mirroir de toutes les fausses notes qui jalonnent un parcours prétentieux, pétri de mélancolie. itinéraire tout tracé de la bêtise.
je n'aspire plus à rien avec mes actes aussi décousus que mes dires.je suis l'à-peu-près de ce que j'aurais voulu être, le brouillon de ce qui aurait du être ma plus belle page.
que sait-on quand on ne sait rien faire? on prétend savoir afin d'exister au milieu de cette presqu'humanité. on se débrouille pour se faire valoir et pour mieux écraser les autres de notre bêtise.la voilà, la seule constance qui aide à tenir la route.
que sait-on quand on a les yeux levés vers le ciel et qu'on entend le néant?

on espère une réponse.

Beauty with a prepuce

For years, I had sworn never to attend our local beauty contest, even if I were to be paid for. Well, guess what? There I was in the middle of the crowd at J&J auditorium tonight to watch the Miss Mauritius beauty pageant just because my friend Daniel did not want to go alone. I desperately tried not to be cynical but it was to no avail, I couldn't resist it. Let me appeal to my compassionate heart. The organization was good, the contenders seemed promising, the entertainment by Club Med was of standard level and I was about to review my prejudiced opinion & swallow my past judgements until the girls reached the final round of questions.

Disaster!

To a question relating to road safety measures and the reduction of accidents on our roads one Miss missed the train when she started to elaborate about her studies in London and how thankful she was towards the organisation, how much the country had evolved, that we were the tiger of the indian ocean bla bla bla, then around the very end  mentioned something about busses blocking the road in the morning,  something completely incoherent and nonsensical that the whole nation is still trying to decipher.

This whole round of answers tangoed between pathetic and comical and to me with none of the contenders for the crown understanding the concept of beauty with a purpose. Beauty with a prepuce to hide their brains in would have sounded more appropriate, especially when the freshly crowned queen expressed how 'émuse' she was while being elected.

Ayo mama, fouf! Never again...never, I say!

Oh Nina, you nailed it!

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ElwCOX3AiIs

Grosse envie d'écrire ce soir mais ne sais pas quoi écrire. zero inspiration + zero talent, on ne va pas bien loin avec. je me suis dit qu'un verre de vin rouge et de la bonne musique ne seraient pas de trop pour voir où me mèneront mes doigts.Un red blend et le streetbeat de david hewitt donc pour m'accompagner. 03 minutes de pur bonheur, de délice enivrant.Je lève mon verre à ma reflection dans le mirroir, ce moment m'appartient, il est à moi et à personne d'autre.
soyons fous chère âme, cher coeur, cher esprit:
If you know how to make me laugh, why do you make me cry? your tainted violet hand touches mine and i long to secretly live inside your pocket where everyday you will look for me. you will find me though you will not love me.there is no north,south,east,west inside a pocket, just darkness and dampness.one day your clothes will get old and you will throw them away forgetting me inside the pocket. who will be to blame? you? for getting me in there as a one time favorite distraction or me for having chosen to be there to entertain you?
i have been in so many pockets, each time loving to be there. some clothes got old and used while others never ran out of fashion. i would like to think my place is in a tuxedo but the comfy smell of an old pair of pyjamas suits me perfectly.what matters is that the pocket is close to the heart which i will warm night and day.

ad vitam aeternam

Les plus belles rencontrent ne sont-elles pas parfois celles qui sont les plus inattendues? la question se pose et la réponse se fraie un chemin jusqu'à ma tête. mais oui, mais oui, mais oui, c'est tout bonnement une évidence.

et si au détour d'une rue, je venais vers toi,
dans un clair de lune 
et si j'arrivais là où la ville s'arrête et la vie, 
la vraie, commence
et si je te regardais avec mes grands yeux rieurs
comprendrais tu que cette rencontre métaphysique 
serait inscrite dans l'espace temps à tout jamais?

Mes plus belles ratures

Quelle exquise douleur que celle qui gagne la paume de ma main et de mon poignet lorsque je donne naissance aux mots sur un brouillon. Chaque page remplie est ponctuée de fautes, d'erreurs et de ratures, certainement les plus belles de ma vie.
De mes mots découlent mes pensées, mes intentions, mes habitudes, mon sommeil, ce fameux sommeil de l'âme. La conscience,elle, n'a point besoin de mémoire quand elle se pose aussi gracieusement sur et entre les lignes.Elle est susurrée quand la bille du stylo se met à valser sur le papier.
Lignes de vérités éclatées après des moments hésitants et lâches, vérités qui vous rattrapent au détour de chaque phrase. Si l'esprit est bohémien, l'émotion quant à elle est diva et l'intention burlesque, tous swinguant sur le même tempo.

Holidays in Cape Town

Just came back from a spree in Cape Town. Holidays or holy days as I would rather call it.
it was cold and at times rainy making the town even more special to my eyes. countless little moments which i can hardly describe here (a lunch under the winter sun in company garden, obviously in the good company of...squirrels, breathtaking views from cape point and table mountain, exquisite wine and cheese tastings with my best friend in the wine lands, a memorable drive at 165kms from Ceres, enjoying being a crazy zingarian for an evening, smoking pot, struggling with a dysfunctional gps which brought us back to the airport one evening...)

Being away for a few days made me realize how short life is and think about all the things that I would like to fix before leaving and which I unfortunately can't. As I observed my friend earnestly rebuilding a broken relationship, I could not help but stare at my own failures. If success in life is about timing, dosage and equilibrium, about patience, wisdom and detachment, how come I have learned so little in all these years? why is it that knowledge too often implies suffering? do we really need to suffer to grow? is there no other path to attaining wisdom than stumbling, falling and...crashing? is it ever safer just  to give up or does one need to die trying making amends?

Letting go or letting soar?

The spectators have all left the room and I have no audience left. So? Where do we go from there?
After having been pointlessly restless for years, I am suddenly faced with a strange reality; that of having time to spend.

Does it all come down to a plain question of letting go or is it not really about letting soar,after all? I wonder. Sometimes as you make that one leap at the edge of the cliff and expect to fall, your wings suddenly spread wide open and you reach for the sky - UTOPIA!!!

Another morning in may with the sun and the smell of chacha Wahab's freshly trimmed bamboo hedge. I stand at the door, watch neighbours, acquaintances, friends all go by and pretend I don't hear my own heartbeat. Nothing looks the same in the morning light.

A close encounter to the only kind

...I've known for the past 30 years; that of unconditional love for Momonne, a disabled lady who is to turn 70 this year. For 03 decades we've sat together, enveloped in our world, chatting, laughing, understanding, loving each other.

Yesterday evening we were talking about those" little nothings which mean big somethings to us" and we froze at how frustrating it is to play crosswords armed with dictionaries and still not be able to find that elusive 'across' 4 letter adjective. I had to leave but I wish I could have stayed longer. The conversation had started earlier on about the precise dosage of ginger to use in a tea infusion to combat a cold. Actually, she did have a cold and I had asked her if she wanted me to rub her back with termozèn (tiger balm). we couldn't find any so I massaged her hand throughout our conversation and felt as if I was 10 again, back to the innocence of childhood.

I was in primary school when Momonne and I befriended each other and I spent the following 15-20 years decorating her xmas tree and helping her out with her greeting cards. If I recall I must have penned wishes to approximately 500 persons on her behalf - so much for my good karma. Over the years, the decoration on the xmas tree slowly metamorphosed from mundane & boring tones to flashy acid colored ones culminating in a 1992 masterpiece worthy of Lady Gaga's admiration had she been around at that time. The angels looked like vicious little cross-dressers and Virgin Mary for some unknown reason and to her dismay and disapproval donned a pink fluo cape. She did look pretty upset under that tree but...whatever, our eyes gleamed with pride and delight as the peach melba star shimmered atop the tree. Those garlands and other pieces of art were the only affordable 'made in china' stuff we could get from the stores. That was long before Chong & Sons became the go-to place we know now.
 

Momonne was not the only friend I had at La Maison d'Entraide, Avenue des Talipots. Gladys, Marguerite, Lise and Denise were there also. Gladys and Marguerite have passed away and Lise has left to find an apartment of her own. Momonne was my instant coup de foudre amical right from the beginning; a jovial, fun loving, crazy, generous, good-hearted, open-minded individual who remains unique in every possible manner, my karmic connection in this world.  She is a wonderful soul who chose to hold my hand and help me define the person I was meant to become. No wonder she holds a irreplaceable spot in my heart and will always be my favorite human being.

Délectation alors que le coeur n'y était pas forcément

Hier soir je me suis rendu au concert de ziskakan alors que l'ile était plongée dans la tourmente à cause des évènements liés aux intempéries. Alors que le coeur n'y était pas réelement au tout début j'ai fini par me laisser happer par l'atmosphère des lieux et je me suis délecté d'un breuvage concocté par Pounia et sa bande.

Guitares aux reins cadencés soutenues par une sonorité recherchée, ce fut pour moi une rencontre étonnante avec une musique riche et colorée. Balade des ilois sur océan de nostalgie, cette musique retrouvée et si magnifiquement retransmise a fait de moi un être nomade dans ma tête, j'ai senti la lune frémir dans le ciel l'espace d'une heure. Les mots, les phrases, les formules empruntés de l'univers de 'l'ami', de l'autre, c'était insensé et magique.  Du tempo maloya au jazz créolisé, de la subtilité et fragilité des textes au rock en vadrouille ziskakan encense les mots et ne tombe jamais dans le superflu ou l'extravagance.une sorte de ligne directrice est respectée. tout comme l'est le public.

Je suis rentré triste et heureux.
comme d'habitude.

Samedi 30 Mars

Sombre journée pour mon pays, pour mon peuple. Quelques heures auront suffi pour tourner le coeur des hommes violet. Des vies emportées par les flots, ravages d'une nature sans clémence. Que reste-t-il d'autre que des sentiments et des bras pour reconstruire et se reconstruire?

Une prière pour les défunts:

Absent de mon corps, présent avec Dieu
N'allez pas sur ma tombe pour pleurer,
Je ne suis pas là, je ne dors pas
Je suis l'éveil des oiseaux dans le calme du matin,
Je suis l'étoile qui brille dans la nuit,
N'allez pas sur ma tombe pour pleurer,
Je ne suis pas là, Je ne suis pas mort !

mo langaz préféré

• Ene galimatia
• Manze ene bouillon galoupé
• Sipek sinwa
• Ene kari ti vitesse
• Lagli lagli
• Papier sablette
• Gato madrier
• Ene gro feye
• Lestoma pe kriye loraz
• Mine bouye gro pwa
• Tanga
• Passe brito lor sali
• Sapesiwaye
• Boulekaskot
• Kissmekwik
• Socette arabe
• Régard ine cassé
• Koulayr la souffrance
• Gopia
• Kalamindass
• Piksidou
• Mayepokpok
• Pannon (billboard)
• Nek line allé, nek line fer sa
• Mone prend dépi ici mone alle dépi laba
• Compote tambarin
• Ou kasse kintour kot la krwazé
• Pasti la mente
• Bizin ale marque darte (eczéma)
• Gato manioc
• Oundé
• Mo pé desann en ville
• Nek tone vini, non?
• Biscuit cabine
• Dilo dire oui
• Boite condané
• Gato kanett
• Line kil mo parade (kas konté)
• To pa pou arete manze gonaz?
• Line mette ene kozé
• Létan margoz
• Ti pé pousse ene bord
• Prete mwa to batt (raquette)
• Line réci pose ene BM dan lacour
• Li bon li gagne ene Ti place travay, li kapav gagne ene TI kas, li asster ene TI lainz, li manze ene TI manzer, li ale ene TI promener, li fer ene TI laniverser
• Mazavaroo
• Makatia
• Jagmaga
• Zokriss
• Bouletangue
• Line mette ene zippe godé (évasé)
• Line ale tire ration
• Ene bourette (brouette)
• Line mett ene tricot gropale
• Noir touni
• Anse Zonché
• Pottsamm
• Lamoress
• Mett ene goudrine
• Ene pogné douri
• Li kontan guett dan zar
• Boursac
• Ale guett cinema
• Pren mo kodak tire to portré
• Martin va/foutoourva
• Inne dekouyone so farce
• La samme bain
• Mett so pagne
• Poukni
• Inn mett ene dibri
• La gazette siffon blay
• Ene manzé arranze la bouss
• Cocorongue
• Li pe fer ene ta comméraz
• Bizin souk li avant nou perdi li
• Kaïlouss
• Guett douri tire kari
• Zozomaniok
• Kouma dire ine dimann diab dilo béni sa
• Zoulou tamtam
• Mone dire mo modisse garde ene coupon
• Li tire ene berte kan li peigne so sévé
• Tchommbo
• Gadjak
• Gato moutaye
• Balayé coco
• Savatte dodo
• Toukmaria
• Linne koiffe so tignasse
• Are mwa to dal pa pu kwi
• Ene vava (barette)
• Mousstass kouma dire také boite ciraz
• Karabi kouma dire kouto mastik
• Quante meme oualé bon dire
• Arrete zazé
• Linn vire cozé
• Noune ale ene gamatt
• Travaye dan ene sele l'accorité
• Linn mett so dé batana dans so la main
• Noune alle ene mariaz  lasall
• Zouzou ménaz
• Lainze la pe kresspone
• Ferme la porte lentouraz
• Ine gatt zamis
• Biskwi la kram kram
• Mett madjah
• Pitaye
• Kolkamani
• Bilo lalo
• Panetière
• Lékor ine rayé
• Ki manière monwar?
• Faye patt san kler
• Zott bien dan pop
• Allé, lot lokazion nu zwenn
• Tourne ki vire, vire ki tourne laye mort dan lalampe
• Mo bourzwa travail lor tablissement
• Line tappe accident
• Baté rendé pa fer dimal
• Kouye bouye
• Baye louké
• So zalou fermal
• É oula matelo, éna zafer ladan
• Line ale gett longaniss
• To lipié longue
• La main kétrin
• Ene Mama Singini/ Ene Mama Kit Kit
• Fami la graiss, etranger la poussiere disel
• So la roue va voiler
• Bourrer nene ouvert
• Ene Sasikala / ene Lalita Pawar / ene Bindu
• Ene ventouze k..
• Lake tourne helicoptere, li frotte sabots li bourre derriere nous

The long elated wait

My life belongs to a friend called Death. I was part of the luggage that he carried to the other side when he accidentally dropped me. I guess he forgot to come back. Or was I probably like the excess luggage that we choose to leave behind?

His foolishness, my curse.

The long elated wait is now coming to an end.My friend will soon be back.He knows that I have outwalked the furthest miles, unable to find what I have been looking for.

No, I did not find humanity within me and I am ashamed to leave knowing that I did not do my best.It's sad to fail so miserably.

Death is nothing more than a travel companion to whom I forsake my soul. He does not speak, he does not listen, he does not judge.I guess I can say that I am lucky, the journey will be a quiet one.

I had hoped to leave with a smile.hard luck.

Those half remembered dreams

Creating a persona,                                          
Bold & strong                                                                                        
While struggling to be myself,                
Vain & shallow                                                
                                       
                                  Crossing the boundaries
                                   & committing to memory
                                   Those half remembered dreams
                                   Are cold familiar strangers

                                                             
                                                                                  Poisonous souvenirs
                                                                                  Of a by gone time
                                                                                  Weighing on a dying heart
                                                                                   & tearful blinking eyes


                                                                                             
                                         
                                         

Lettre de mon moulin (à paroles) à quelqu'un qui m'a laissé sans voix

Cher William,

...

A

Thank you my badoune for being there, no matter what. I love you.

When you love you should not say, "God is in my heart,"but rather,"I am in the heart of God."

And think not you can direct the course of love, for love, if it finds you worthy, directs your course. 

Garçon! One Pink Martini s'il vous plait.

The Sensational 80s

With time one does not only gain experience but also becomes proportionally idiotic. I have been senselessly foolish to create a universe of my own in my head, that which people usually call dreams but which are mere fantasies, weird ones. 

I am caught somewhere between the sky and the ground, listening to Little lies by Fleetwood Mac.

Years ago I ruined my tape by overplaying a 'Best of' of this legendary band. I discovered 'Rumours' very late in time and though the album is an absolute feast, Tango in the night was the album which I had a soft corner for. I was 14 and could not stop listening to Little lies and Everywhere. Christine McVie's voice worked magic on these timeless records. But then so does Stevie Nick's voice when I hear the first notes of Dreams from the Rumour album. It is so hauntingly beautiful. 1987 was also the year I came across Suzanne Vega's Luka. Sadly, it took me a whole decade to understand the full meaning of the lyrics.

Looking back, I remember no internet, no mobile, no cable tv, no fm, no digital camera. The following are the fondest souvenirs of my teenage years:

- Listening to my all time favorite gal on the air - Dame Marguerite Labat and her Chronique de L'Etrange
- Intercollege Games at Rose-Hill stadium
- Summer holidays at Pointe D'Esny - the crystal clear lagoon and the serenity on the beach
- The smell of the yellowish pages of old bibliotheque verte books
- amar chitra katha comics and litchi trees at barkapapa's place
- dad bringing us to Le Printemps bookshop - marvel comics and gaston lagaffe
- the badminton tournaments & saturday training sessions
- jogging at colline candos - my adidas with fluo laces
- Vicky, my teenage inspiration
- waiting for the mcgyver episode 
- exchange of the first 'billets doux'
- diva dancing to madonna's "into the groove" & mj's BAD in front of the mirror 
- school concerts, fancy fairs, classical music concertos at conservatoire francois mitterand
- shows and plays at plaza
- hiding porn magazines inside schoolbook covers
- climbing on the huge mango tree in the garden and whistling to passers on the street
- waiting for the kulfi malai vendor on his bicycle on hot summer nights (marssand paink painkoo)
- scaring the shit out of my little cousin with stories of bolomm sounga...lol
- my cousin Antish staying over during holidays
- the total blast with my sister while my parents were abroad
- saving up to buy the latest smash hits issue
- football on the street with the kids of the neighbourhood
- rides on my chopper and bmx
- speciales vacances outings
- cheap tickets at cinema royal
- cheating on my grades mark in my report book
- french literature class at school - how passionate our teacher was
- desperately trying to understand anything in additional maths class
- desperately trying to understand the chemical reactions inside my own body
- watching Queen perform at live aid and totally understanding that a part of the history of music was being written
- watching Big League Soccer and supporting Liverpool FC

Yes, I remember the frenzy energy of the 80s as opposed to my sloth and torpor when it came down to studying. Things were not always easy but words will never be able to describe how happy I felt growing up in an era where pop culture and style gave a sense of freedom to people and as much as I was fulfilled then, I still look forward everyday to enjoying all the aspects the present has to offer, namely in love. and if there is anyone out there reading this, i hope you could help me figure out what cos, sin and tan is about. Qui voudrait mourir idiot?

Les mots qui font une vie

- Désillusions
- Déceptions amoureuses
- Cinéma
- Voyages
- Tourisme
- Zone de confort
- Sexualité
- Bouddhisme
- Reiki
- Blind faith
- Amour
- Words,words,words
- Famille
- Lire
- Ego
- Potentiel

Et si j'étais arrivé au bout de mon écriture et que je n'avais plus rien à dire?
Quel courage cela requiert-il d'aller chercher encore plus loin en soi pour ensuite venir se ré-inventer?

Les livres, les films, les gens, la religion, l'expérience, les blessures, tout, absolument tout me ramène à la même et unique conclusion: Le bonheur se résume simplement à rendre les autres heureux tout en se suffisant émotionellement à soi-même. La voilà mon ultime, mon unique vérité.

Se déconstruire, se reconstruire, désapprendre, réapprendre, se déformater, se reformater.

1er février - Commémoration de la libération des esclaves

Je voudrais pouvoir me libérer de la personne que je suis afin de devenir la personne que je suis.

Je demeure dans un état "d'esprit es-tu là?" avec mes humeurs enclavés dans mes émotions.

Je suis point de bascule qui oscille entre electron libre et mots interdits.

Je

Je

Je

Effacer ce 'Je' de ma vie en me réveillant et être enfin libre.

 bouteille de vain vidée
  car j'ai creux en moi

                                            juxtaposition des émotions
                                                 sentiments incolores

                   condescendance aseptisée
valeurs rétrogrades

                                     (désa)voué à l'échec
                                          l'amant table

                                                                 sur
                                                                      infâme
                                                                               érosion
                                                                                          de
                                                                                              l'âme

Heaven

Aaaw! This unplugged version shakes me to the core.

Mon immacriture voile mes pensées
Tel un silence drapé de honte
Voilà donc l'imposteur que je suis (à) découvert
Touché!
Balancé!
Grâcié?
La peine
Elle est capitale
Dans toute vie

Laisse moi ensoleiller tes désirs
Toi dont les épaules soutiennent mes rêves
et ne t'éloignes pas de ma conscience
car je suis avide de ton innocence

Les nuages cloitrés dans ce ciel si longtemps angoissé
Se déplient et entrouvent la brêche vers notre devenir
Il suffit de comprendre que deux présents valent mieux qu'un passé
Englué dans la solitude des malentendus

Insoumise illusion que nous balaieront d'un revers de la main
Est-il possible que l'enchantement soit au bout du chemin?

Good wine is a good familiar creature, if it be well used - Shakespeare

Othello, Act 2 Scene 3

Late lunch on my own in a coffee shop on a saturday afternoon and I feel like a debauché.
I lean against the table and let my mind set adrift. The waiter brings me the sunset in a cup like in dickinson's poem and it tastes like an air of remembrance, the sweetish / sour-ishness of teenage years. ahem,ahem, i was once young.

My favorite Beatles tune playing in the background, strawberry fields for ever. The restaurant manager tells me more about the song, how Lennon donated money to a convent or orphanage called strawberry fields where he used to stroll by when he was young. this makes my day, someone at last talking Beatles.

I'm finding it hard to connect to people around me these days, I feel alienated and misunderstood at different levels. I don't share the same tastes and opinions of any person in my close environment and I simply cannot connect with any of them. Am I an old fart who lectures people or a mentor who gives advice? probably both, depending on the recipient at the end of the line.

That said, à quoi bon essayer de se suffire à soi même? croire à une nouvelle aube et à la sérénité et l'espoir qu'elle pourrait, qu'elle devrait porter. Pourquoi continuer à croire que tout n'est qu'évidence quand tel n'est plus le cas? je pourrais évoquer une rédemption afin de me tirer d'affaire mais soyons honnête, je m'invente simplement une réalité parallèle afin de me sentir mieux dans ma peau.

J'ai envie d'être et je n'ai plus envie d'être à la fois.

Demi/Mesure

Il m'est un chant éloquent, porté par l'aurore et convoité par le désir.
Un chant, qui comme un enfant accourant vers son innocence dénonce toutes ces fractures dont se parrent les êtres insipides. Chant atride qui cadence ma vie et tel un regard insoumis ne cherche plus ses racines, erre dans les silences d'une vérité indomptée, se dévergonde sous une lune flouée et hante les mémoires jusqu'à en devenir chant plaintif.
Tout n'est que démesure dans un chant qui me ramène vers un souvenir ébloui et oublié.
Je suis l'improbable et non l'impossible.