Google-Translate-Chinese (Simplified) BETA Google-Translate-English to French Google-Translate-English to German Google-Translate-English to Italian Google-Translate-English to Japanese BETA Google-Translate-English to Korean BETA Google-Translate-English to Russian BETA Google-Translate-English to Spanish
Powered by

11/30/2009

31/11/2009




One day, they bought this mirror, with those so beautiful exotic waterfalls printed on it.
They put it on a wall in the living room. It was magic, like a daily holiday feeling.
But one day, waking up in the morning, they realized that this mirror didn't change their life into a sweet paradise.
Then they just put off the wall this mirror and throw it in garbages.
To get a little piece of paradise is sometimes more complicated than to buy a mirror and it is better like this because the day we will have to pay to be happy, most of us will not be able to afford it...;)

11/29/2009

29/11/2009



Spontaneous me, Nature,
The loving day, the mounting sun, the friend I am happy with,
The arm of my friend hanging idly over my shoulder,
The hillside whiten'd with blossoms of the mountain ash,
The same late in autumn, the hues of red, yellow, drab, purple, and
light and dark green,
The rich coverlet of the grass, animals and birds, the private
untrimm'd bank, the primitive apples, the pebble-stones,
Beautiful dripping fragments, the negligent list of one after
another as I happen to call them to me or think of them,
The real poems, (what we call poems being merely pictures,)
The poems of the privacy of the night, and of men like me,
This poem drooping shy and unseen that I always carry, and that all
men carry,
(Know once for all, avow'd on purpose, wherever are men like me, are
our lusty lurking masculine poems,)
Love-thoughts, love-juice, love-odor, love-yielding, love-climbers,
and the climbing sap,
Arms and hands of love, lips of love, phallic thumb of love, breasts
of love, bellies press'd and glued together with love,
Earth of chaste love, life that is only life after love,
The body of my love, the body of the woman I love, the body of the
man, the body of the earth,
Soft forenoon airs that blow from the south-west,
The hairy wild-bee that murmurs and hankers up and down, that gripes the
full-grown lady-flower, curves upon her with amorous firm legs, takes
his will of her, and holds himself tremulous and tight till he is
satisfied;
The wet of woods through the early hours,
Two sleepers at night lying close together as they sleep, one with
an arm slanting down across and below the waist of the other,
The smell of apples, aromas from crush'd sage-plant, mint, birch-bark,
The boy's longings, the glow and pressure as he confides to me what
he was dreaming,
The dead leaf whirling its spiral whirl and falling still and
content to the ground,
The no-form'd stings that sights, people, objects, sting me with,
The hubb'd sting of myself, stinging me as much as it ever can any
one,
The sensitive, orbic, underlapp'd brothers, that only privileged
feelers may be intimate where they are,
The curious roamer the hand roaming all over the body, the bashful
withdrawing of flesh where the fingers soothingly pause and
edge themselves,
The limpid liquid within the young man,
The vex'd corrosion so pensive and so painful,
The torment, the irritable tide that will not be at rest,
The like of the same I feel, the like of the same in others,
The young man that flushes and flushes, and the young woman that
flushes and flushes,
The young man that wakes deep at night, the hot hand seeking to
repress what would master him,
The mystic amorous night, the strange half-welcome pangs, visions, sweats,
The pulse pounding through palms and trembling encircling fingers,
the young man all color'd, red, ashamed, angry;
The souse upon me of my lover the sea, as I lie willing and naked,
The merriment of the twin babes that crawl over the grass in the
sun, the mother never turning her vigilant eyes from them,
The walnut-trunk, the walnut-husks, and the ripening or ripen'd
long-round walnuts,
The continence of vegetables, birds, animals,
The consequent meanness of me should I skulk or find myself indecent,
while birds and animals never once skulk or find themselves indecent,
The great chastity of paternity, to match the great chastity of maternity,
The oath of procreation I have sworn, my Adamic and fresh daughters,
The greed that eats me day and night with hungry gnaw, till I saturate
what shall produce boys to fill my place when I am through,
The wholesome relief, repose, content,
And this bunch pluck'd at random from myself,
It has done its work--I toss it carelessly to fall where it may.



Walt whitman


11/28/2009

28/11/2009



Weather report :

Grey, rainy, cold week-end...
Enjoy !!!

At least, when you don't know what to believe in this world, you know that the cold rain dropping on your face is real and true...

11/27/2009

27/11/2009



When you are a child, you can be fascinated by things that are very common for an adult glance. I remember how I was so facinated by water towers like this one, my mind imagining unbelievable stories about space invaders hidden inside...
To be able to create the most incredible thought from nothing...it is for me a magic thing about childhood, something I try to keep as an adult, even if the adult world is not allowing a so big room about it...

11/26/2009

26/11/2009



When you get the key that open someone heart's keyhole, it doesn't mean you got a permanent thing. In time, the keyhole can be removed, you can lose the key...
From learning that, I try now to use my key like if it could be the last time it will work and to make every single opening the most precious and unique I can.
It took me time to learn, to understand, to admit it, but then, things become easier...

11/25/2009

25/11/2009


As I always said...
Never eat a turkey you didn't see running before...
Now, you can see that I was serious saying this....
Happy thanksgiving anyway !!!.......;-))

11/24/2009

24/11/2009


I wonder why my eyewear dealer is now having sex toys in her shopwindow ?
Is it an economic crisis effect that push her to find other way to make money ?
Is there a new way to link sensuality of eyes with the whole body sensuality ?
Let me think about it....
I don't know if it works like about eyewear ? If we can try before to buy ? wow !!! ....;)

11/23/2009

23/11/2009



Un jour  gris et pluvieux, donnant aux couleurs un aspect fade et délavé.
J’aime à penser et à croire que ce sont des gouttes de pluie qui diluèrent cette morne journée.
Le visage trempé par la pluie garde pour lui le secret d’une hypothétique larme.

11/22/2009

22/11/2009



Love is creativity as creativity is love...
It is not easy to create a powerfull artwork as it is not easy to create a deep friendship...
Both are full of unknown parameters, full of mysteries, of surprises good or bad...
Not so easy to find the balance between to give and to receive...
Create an artwork as a friendship is to accept to take a risk, to show yourself to the other as you are, as you feel. A creator who put  just a choosen part of himself in his artwork makes just wall embellishment. It is the same about friendship. When you give a part of yourself (often just the best part), you will be loved, but it will be just  human decoration. I don't pretend to be perfect, I don't pretend to be a good artist, I don't pretend to be the best friend you can get, but I know that I can face myself and to be loved or not for who I am (good or bad). What is important for me in creation and friendship is not to be the most nice, the most pleasant, but to be the most true, because we can't give a more unique gift than this and there is not more deep friendship than when you know you are loved and you love the other fully, with the good and the bad side and it is important for me because I don't know anybody who only have good sides. 

11/21/2009

21/11/2009


A detail...
Most of you will just see there a detail...
Maybe I am the only one in this world who see over the detail ?
I hope not. It is scary to think this way...
A detail would not be important, wouldn't mean so much, would not give a sens to my nights and days...
One day, a person told me that all is written in stars, that nothing is a complete hasard in life...
I believed this person and until my last breath, it will never be a detail...never...
If stars are liars, so I want to die without to learn this truth before...

11/20/2009

20/11/2009


 An anonymous love declaration from a french citizen to his president...;)

11/19/2009

19/11/2009



 Every time the little ray of sunshine finds its way to come through  my night, it's magic ...

11/18/2009

18/11/2009


 This evening, I turned on the TV...
I heard people yelling in a violent way in the street and  I thought maybe we were close to something as serious as the world war 3...and then, I realized that it was just about a football match between France and Ireland...
I don't care about football. It is just 22 guys running on the grass with a ball, not a big shit...but I feel very angry when I see how french people are able to put too much nationalism, too much pride, too much hate about that.
The french team can win or lose...it will not make France being better, nor more respectfull, nor more rich. It is ridiculous for me to try to make reflect dreams and indentity of all a country into 11 guys and a  ball...It is ridiculous to put so much importance in a thing like that when you are really aware about what is happening each second in this world.
I wish that sometimes guys who are right now drinking their beer watching the TV, yelling to support their team and insulting the other team, the other country could realize that during the 90 minutes of this football match, 900 children will die from starving in this world. So seriously, how much important is to win a football match ?????

11/17/2009

17/11/2009



Mon fils, il viendra peut-être un jour où je t'expliquerai certaines choses, parce qu'il viendra un jour ou je les comprendrai.

(Hanif Kureishi)

11/16/2009

16/11/2009

Well, lets say that I will take it easy in this begining of week. 
No pics, no words from me today...;)

So, dear readers, feel free to make this post of the day your own post. 

Use comments bellow the post and publish, write, express what you want on this page and then for one time, it will be me the reader...;)

Be inspired...;)

11/15/2009

15/11/2009



What is it to feel intimate with someone ?
Can we reduce intimacy just about sex ? just a lover's thing ?
Intimacy can't be shared without sexual desire ?
Today, I was questioning what is to share intimacy for me.
Of course, as a man, as a human being, to give and to receive things about the skin, the body, the smell are things about intimacy; but over all those things, just to feel in a glance, in a said word, in a smile shared that you exist for the other as a precious, unique person is also a form of deep intimacy. For me, intimacy is when 2 persons are able just from those simple things to make feel to each other that at this right moment when this glance is shared, it is unique, precious and could not be just exactly the same with an other person.
To share intimacy could be just a kind of deep mutual understanding, a deep link...much more complex than just to be in a bed with someone else...

Intimacy generally refers to the feeling of being in a close personal association and belonging together. It is a familiar and very close affective connection with another as a result of entering deeply or closely into relationship through knowledge and experience of the other. Genuine intimacy in human relationships requires dialogue, transparency, vulnerability and reciprocity. (© Wikipedia)

11/14/2009

14/11/2009


To put our hands in front of our eyes can be a way to hide ourselves from the reality. But  to refuse to see the reality never make it disappear. We can't see it, but it still there....
We have two options : We can decide to face it, to deal with it, to make something from it or to keep our hands in front of our eyes with the expectation that this reality will disappear in one day, one month, one year...
I will not put my hands on my eyes. Would be easier but I wish to face the reality in its good or bad sides...because reality is life...life is reality...

11/13/2009

13/11/2009


I was thinking about what you said...
I was looking at this old photograph of my big brother wearing a pale pink shirt in the late 70's...
Well, maybe the similarity with skin color would make me feel like naked...or maybe black is just the perfect social mask for me...who knows ? A good question to ask to a therapist ha ha...
Please, just don't make me the surprise to offer me a pale pink shirt for my birthday...;)

11/12/2009

12/11/2009


I woke up this morning...had a coffee...a cig...listened a song...and just felt wrapped in a simple and pure happiness...
Sometimes, we spend too much time and lose too much energy from expecting big things, great happiness, amazing stories that maybe will never come true. Our life is filled up with many little and simple things, short moments of happiness and sweetness that finally give us a true reason to feel happy, to feel loved when we take the time to catch them up...
I woke up happy this morning...

11/11/2009

11/11/2009


The 11th of november...the anniversary of the end of the world war one...
The Great war, the last of the last as they called it...
It was an infamy to push young guys to go to lose their loves, their dreams, their lifes in 1914 for some bullshits, to keep safe money of those who decided this war...
In 2009, young guys still continue to die just because an other guy well hidden behind his desk and who will never risk his own life will decide it for reasons that are often not enough good reasons to justify to lose a human life. And because my voice will be never as deep as the voice of those who lived that, I will let you read bellow lyrics translated in english of "The Craonne song"...

When at the end of a week's leave
We're going to go back to the trenches, Our place there is so useful That without us we'd take a thrashing. But it's all over now, we've had it up to here, Nobody wants to march anymore. And with hearts downcast, like when you're sobbing We're saying good-bye to the civilians, Even if we don't get drums, even if we don't get trumpets We're leaving for up there with lowered head.
Good-bye to life, good-bye to love, Good-bye to all the women, It's all over now, we've had it for good With this awful war. It's in Craonne up on the plateau That we're leaving our skins, 'Cause we've all been sentenced to die. We're the ones that they're sacrificing
Eight days in the trenches, eight days of suffering, And yet we still have hope That tonight the relief will come That we keep waiting for. Suddenly in the silent night We hear someone approach It's an infantry officer Who's coming to take over from us. Quietly in the shadows under a falling rain The poor soldiers are going to look for their graves
Good-bye to life, good-bye to love, Good-bye to all the women, It's all over now, we've had it for good With this awful war. It's in Craonne up on the plateau That we're leaving our hides 'Cause we've all been sentenced to die. We're the ones that they're sacrificing
On the grands boulevards it's hard to look At all the rich and powerful whooping it up For them life is good But for us it's not the same Instead of hiding, all these shirkers Would do better to go up to the trenches To defend what they have, because we have nothing All of us poor wretches All our comrades are being buried there To defend the wealth of these gentlemen here
Those who have the dough, they'll be coming back, 'Cause it's for them that we're dying. But it's all over now, 'cause all of the grunts Are going to go on strike. It'll be your turn, all you rich and powerful gentlemen, To go up onto the plateau. And if you want to make war, Then pay for it with your own skins.

11/10/2009

10/11/2009


 Sometimes the trip seems so long to make...
It would be so good to feel that the meeting point could be in the middle...at the an equal distance between the desire to give love and the desire to receive love.
We could call this meeting point : a shared love...
But I never get tired from long trips. I am a constant love walker who doesn't take care if the meeting point is in the middle or not when the meeting point at least exist...

11/09/2009

09/11/2009


 I took this pic while I came out from a meeting this afternoon.
It reminded me this fantastic novel :"The goalie's anxiety at the penalty kick" by Austrian existentialist writer, Peter Handke. Day after day, I can feel that I let less and less place in my life for fears. Fears prevent you to act but not to be hurt. I am on my way to realize what I want to do, how I want to live and have no intention to let stupid fears steal my dreams.

11/08/2009

08/11/2009


 Can you see it ? There, just over my finger. No ? 
No, of course, there is nothing to see over my finger. I tried to show you something invisible, something that can't be pictured. 
Now, close your eyes. 
Can you feel it now ? Can you feel this energy ? this wave of sweetness invading your soul ?
Now, you know what I wanted to show you. You know that it is here. A permanent thing that will never die. Something that make the fact that full dark is never fully dark. 
No need explanation.

11/07/2009

07/11/2009


Swim.
Swim into the deep blue.
Get lost between waves of sheets.
The bed.
The ocean is the bed of my dreams.
Dive into the memory of feelings.
Sweet wetness from a dream about ocean made in a bed.
For ever blue.

11/06/2009

06/11/2009


Les mots. Words.
Les mots rendent visible le coeur.
言葉
Translate emotions into words.
Ecrire avec la plume de son coeur.
λέξη
Need sometimes words to read the heart.
I wish I could let touch and feel directly my heart. 
слово
Alors, plus besoin de mots.
To live.
शब्द
Ne plus écrire. Vivre au plus près du coeur.

11/05/2009

05/11/2009


 Hareng saur...kipper as we say in english...
Of course, it smells so strongly like death that you have to cook it all windows open...of course, if you want to have a romantic dinner with a charming woman you dream to kiss after meal, it is not the most appropriate thing to prepare to warm up the night...but beside that, just accompagned with potatoes, bread with butter and a good glass of white wine it is one of my favorite meal when I am sure I will not have to kiss a girl after...(that could feel like the kiss of death for her...;)

11/04/2009

04/11/2009


Not so easy to talk about flowers.

Not so easy when looking at your garden, you realize that you should let time for flowers will grow up again and will make explode their perfume in the air...
I am gardening in stars, keeping my heart beating as quietly as I can, using Cummings words to end this post with right ones that I feel not able to find by myself tonight...



Thy fingers make early flowers


      Thy fingers make early flowers
      of all things.
      thy hair mostly the hours love:
      a smoothness which
      sings,saying
      (though love be a day)
      do not fear,we will go amaying.


      thy whitest feet crisply are straying.
      Always
      thy moist eyes are at kisses playing,
      whose strangeness much
      says;singing
      (though love be a day)
      for which girl art thou flowers bringing?


      To be thy lips is a sweet thing
      and small.
      Death,thee i call rich beyond wishing
      if this thou catch,
      else missing.
      (though love be a day
      and life be nothing,it shall not stop kissing).


          e.e. cummings

11/03/2009

03/11/2009


Shitty rainy day !!! I spent my time to feel as wet as a baby in his bath...
I love to take a bath...but not in this way...;)

11/02/2009

02/11/2009


 A picture of me.
Not me, just a blurred picture of me.
Not the reality, just a cropped picture of me.
Reality can be as blurred as confused than this picture...
But it is so much more passionating because you can go out of the border of the picture...

11/01/2009

01/11/2009


Six to five
Five to six
To expand time to touch your soul with fingertips of the moment
Then synchronize it with heart beats
A wave came to end its trip on my stomach
Love as a landscape
A landscape out of time
Gardening of time in a field of love