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Adaptation théâtrale du roman "Kukum"
Il y a 2 semaines
samedi 17 avril 2021
lundi 29 août 2016
Lectures, prise 3 (dérivé du site Le Libraire)
http://le-libraire.tumblr.com/private/143459357427/tumblr_o69smlyK0Z1um0m4h
Lectures, prise 3
Puisque le temps se fait lourd, pour une pauvre petite page web, et que chaque ajout de lecture ajoute un supplice à cet ordinateur, je crée cette nouvelle page pour me simplifier la vie, et celle de Delli, par la même occasion!2016
*edit 4 janv.*
066- Schulz, Charles, Complete Peanuts: 1950-1952, Fantagraphics (cadeau)
*edit 5 janv*
067- Gosemick, Marie Eve, Poutine pour emporter, Stanké (emprunt, débuté vers le 30 novembre)
*edit 10 janv*
068- 00 Recueil, Le Livre Noir de Ta Mère, Éd. Ta Mère (débuté le 7 janv.)
*edit 11 janv*
069- 01 Raymond, Maxime, Je Pense Que Ce Recueil Est Pour Toi, Éd. Ta Mère (débuté le 10 janv.)
*edit 13 janv*
070- 02 Cloutier, Guillaume, American Épopée, Éd. Ta Mère (débuté le 11 janv.)
*edit 15 janv*
071- 03 Simon, Charles, Les Plus Belles Filles Lisent Du Asimov, Éd. Ta Mère (débuté le 14 janv)
*edit 24 avril*
-Éd Quartanier, coll. Polygraphe:
072- 03 Bock, Raymond, Atavismes (15janv-9fév)
073- 05 Coppens, Carle, Baldam l’improbable (10fév-2avr)
074- 06 Baez, Isabelle, Maté (3-22avr)
075- Loeb, Jeff & Sale, Tim, Batman: The Long Halloween, DC (14-18avr)
076- Miller, Frank & Azzarello, Brian, Dark Knight III: The Master Race (V.F.), Urban Comics (23 avril)
077- Desharnais, Francis, La guerre des arts, Éd. Pow Pow (23avr)
*edit 25 avril*
078- Zviane, Apnée, Pow Pow, 2010 (24avr)
079- Zviane, Pain de viande avec dissonances, Pow Pow, 2011 (24avr)
*edit 26 avril*
080- Desharnais, Francis & Cathon, Les Cousines Vampires, Pow Pow, 2014 (25avr)
081- Hellman, Michel, Mile End, Pow Pow, 2011 (25avr)
082- Tande, Leif, Motus!, Mécanique Générale, 2002 (26avr)
*edit 30 avril*
083- Cantin, Samuel, Vil et Misérable, Pow Pow, 2013 (29-30avr)
*edit 8 mai*
084- Grenier, Daniel, Malgré Tout On Rit À St-Henri, Quartanier, 2012 (23avr-8mai)
*edit 14 mai*
085- Gérandon, Christophe, Un Monstre, Éd. De Ta Mère, 2013 (9-14mai)
*edit 18 mai*
086- Morin, Olivier, Épopée Nord, Éd. De Ta Mère, 2016 (14-18mai)
*edit 28 mai*
087- Leduc-Primeau, Laurence, À La Fin Ils Ont Dit À Tout Le Monde D’Aller Se Rhabiller, Éd. de Ta Mère, 2016 (18-27mai)
*edit 17 août*
088- Lange, Richard, Dead Boys, Albin Michel (28 mai - 11 juillet)
089- Carver, Raymond, Can You Please Be Quiet, Please?, Vintage (14 juillet - 17 août)
*edit ...septembre*
090- Brisebois, Patrick, Trépanés, Éd. Quartanier, 2007 (18 août-...sept)
*edit 27 nov.*
091- Dominguez Leiva, Antonio, Youtube Théorie, Éd. de Ta Mère, 2014 (12-17sep)
092- Lanctôt, Jacques, Jean Leloup, biographie, Les Intouchables, 2016 (8-11oct)
093- Giard, Vincent; Turgeon, David, Les pièces détachées, Mauvaise Tête, 2013 (13oct)
094- Fontaine Rousseau; Samson-Dunlop, Pinkerton, Mauvaise Tête, 2012 (14-15oct)
095- Sharpe, Sam, Poop Boobs Poo, Yeti Press, 2014 (15nov)
096- Collectif, Série télé, saison un, Éd. de Ta Mère, 2014 (17sep-27nov)
jeudi 25 août 2016
25 août 2016 - Something about her knees
Alpert was in the living room with their guests. They had been there for a couple of hours then, and the evening was getting late. Capri came out of the bathroom when she heard Alpert ask their friends about how they moved together.
"Well, Julie and I weren't quite looking at that moment, to be honest", said Oliver.
"It kind of happened in a series of circumstances", said Julie. "Oliver and I were dating only since a month or two, but my mother was already eager to see us both settle."
Capri put a bowl of chips on the round table, in the middle of the room. Alpert wasn't wearing his glasses, she noticed. "Honey, what happened to your glasses", she asked.
"What", he replied. "Oh, I felt a headache coming, so I put them away for a while. Don't mind. Sit with us, for a moment" he said, in a silent voice.
Julie and Oliver continued to tell their story, side by side, like a routine they'd learned for some time.
"He was living in a very nice apartment, but with a cousin of his that wouldn't leave for no reason, even if he hated the city. Go figure."
"He wasn't from the city, to begin with. He never felt at home... Anyway. We started searching around and about. Something cozy, something alright to match both salary", Oliver told, with a look to his wife.
"And then, we had this amazing opportunity, with my best friend's husband, who was leaving this place. It was just in front of the market and it had this... Do you want me to help you with that" Julie asked Capri.
Capri flinched. She started to lift each drink to place coasters on the table. Her hands were moving in an upbeat fashion, as if the duty had to be done right away. "Don't bother, just be careful with those drink" Capri told their guests.
"This table is worth a lot, thanks to my uncle who really did a neat job on it. I just want it to be treated well."
"If you want," started Oliver, "we can hold our drink..."
"No," Alpert said in a hurry. "Please don't. It's no worry." He gave Capri an odd stare, and told them both to go on with their story.
"Really, I'll just hold my drink," suggested Oliver.
"No. No. It'll leave water stains on your shirt" Capri said in a clear voice. "Or, God forbid, on the couch", she mumbled.
"What's that?" Julie turned to Capri. "If your couch is so precious, we can leave. It'll stay dry, don't you worry." She was getting snappy, all of a sudden.
"Please, God, both of you, please stop," Alpert said, with his loud palm on the table.
The stomp made their cat run from under the couch to the master's bedroom. Oliver and Julie both gave a stare in its direction, before turning to each other. "I think it would be better if we leave", he gave, his voice was barely audible.
"How did you guys get married?" Alpert tried everything to make believe the evening was all okay. "Did you propose to her, or what?"
"We'll give you a call," Oliver said. "It's nothing personal, really. We got work tomorrow is all."
Alpert waited to hear them close the door of the building before pulling the chain on the security lock of their apartment. Plates were on the counter, in the cooking room, and there was nobody to be found in the living room. He gave a quick glance in the mirror of the hallway before moving to the bedroom. His girlfriend was sitting on the bed, arms crossed, legs straight in front of her. He tried to catch her attention, but nothing would do, she wouldn't budge. "Is it really about the ring the beers would've made," Alpert finally asked. "Or is it because you just don't like your friends?"
"I don't hate them. Gosh! What do you think" Capri yelled.
"Then it's something I did" Alpert said. "I alone must suffer the consequences of its Highness of..."
"Your SO funny, aren't you", Capri let out.
"You know what, rock yourself to sleep, tonight."
Alpert left the room, hearing Capri whisper something he couldn't make up, and open the light in the bathroom. The cabinet popped open. He took the clipper, and put it on one inch before getting his hair done by himself. It took him an hour or so to get done with it, and then again, he had to use a sharp razor to finish the job. But he was getting tired and felt like it wouldn't matter. Either if he finished the job that night or in the morning, the message was gonna get through. Capri entered the room just as he was placing the clipper back in the cabinet, beside the after shave.
"When are you done?" she asked.
"What do you care about it?" he asked back.
"What?...You know what, fuck you" she let out.
"Gee, thanks. Thanks a lot. Good night to you too, sweetheart", Alpert said.
"Oh I'm sorry. Have I hurt your feelings? Humm, maybe I, too, should be asking strangers how they propose to each other, so that I'll feel less awful about a rejection!"
"What are you even... I wasn't... They are not strangers, they are your, Your, friends. And I was trying to save the evening, in case you were too preoccupied with those fucking coasters of yours!"
"So, they're not your friends, anymore, is that what you're trying to say" Capri said, her voice now broken.
Alpert let the clipper fell onto the floor before trying to leave the room but Capri wouldn't let him. Her arms were stretched firmly on both sides of the door. She knew he wouldn't push her to get outside. Alpert grabbed her form under her belly and tossed her on the floor with a loud thump. "And don't try to follow me," he gave her, his finger pointing her.
It was already pretty dark, outside. Alpert took out his phone and texted Oliver and Julie to know their whereabouts. As it turned out, they went out for a drink, just a block away from their apartment, at this bar he once went to. He texted back to tell them he'd join them after he'd buy a pack of cigarettes. Oliver texted Alpert could have some of his, if he went straight for the bar; he wouldn't mind. If he gave some explanations, that is.
The bar was wide, yet the roof was pretty low, Alpert thought. He found the two love birds at first glance, sitting at the counter.
"You look different," joked Oliver, staring at Alpert's shaved head.
"I shave when I get cranky" told Alpert. "Wanna know about it?"
"Easy, man. Don't get all bitchy, alright?"
Alpert ordered a beer in a large glass, before laying his hand out to Oliver's pocket, the one he knew he had his cigarettes in, with a slight "Please" he grinned. A moment passed. They each drank silently while they smoke, as the television broadcast an old David Letterman show. Tom Waits was performing.
"I like that dude" Oliver said. "That song's a killer. Really."
"I don't know" Alpert said. "He's got that attitude thing... I don't really care for things like that."
"Did Capri say anything" Julie asked. "I've never seen her this uptight about stuff like water rings before."
"She didn't say anything, okay," Alpert said, drinking his beer, his eyes still on the television on the side of the bar. "She hadn't eaten well, lately, I don't know."
"...Did you say anything to make her get this mad", Julie asked again.
"Geez, what do I know. Maybe I did say something to get her this mad. What if, huh? What if, Julie?" He kept his head turned to the television set, his hand reaching blindly for the cigarette butt he left in the tray.
The couple stayed silent, in hope their host would apologize, explain what happened at their house, and at this bar, even. But the room would stay still, only the sound of the balls on the pool tables would fill the silence, with the roachy voice of the old singer on the television show.
"It's nothing" finally said Alpert, after a few sips. "She just gets cranky, sometimes, when it gets cold. Or hot. I never remember. Or just humid. You know, humidity... with the accident, and all. Something about her knees. Anyway. Sorry, guys. I should've felt it before you got out, should've texted you to stay at your place."
The couple shared a match for their cigarettes. Oliver put a hand on Alpert's shoulder, a pat of some sort.
"Oliver told my father before we went on the west coast" Julie said, with a grin. "He asked him if it was okay." She wanted to laugh.
"Yeah, well," started Oliver. "I wanted the coast to be clear, so to speak. If he was okay, with it, and all..."
"Just shut up, you just want to seem romantic" Julie said, now smiling widely. "Anyway, I knew something was up, so I asked some questions to this guy..."
"You blasted me with millions of questions", Oliver added.
"Whatever! Lemme finish... So I asked him what was up. But yeah, in the end, I got fed up, and told him to just drop it."
"What?" Alpert, also smiling, asked silently another cigarette from Oliver.
"Just drop it, I said" Julie said. "And he did. Well... Kind of."
"I had enough of her being mad and all, so I accepted to drop the idea, whatever it was."
"So I asked him, well, now that you've gave up, can you tell me what it was, but he wouldn't breathe a fucking word."
"I thought, at least, if I don't get to propose to her at that time, I'll still have the element of surprise for another time. She doesn't know, right", Oliver was shaking his head, his cigarette perched at the end of his left hand, his right hand reaching for Julie's thigh. Her hand reached his. Alpert noticed it.
"He's so stupid. Of course I knew you wanted to propose. It was the same thing as when we went to London." She smiled at the back of his head. "You get that dumb face of yours, when you have a plan in mind. You know you can't lie to me!"
"Aw come on," he gave her, as he looked up. Alpert didn't care for that face, he thought it was a phony face.
"You really can't keep a straight face, can you" Julie asked.
"So anyway," she continues, "he finally proposed to me that night, like a week before our trip. But it wasn't even a proposal. He was all, like, Huh I was like huh suppose to huh anyway hmm yeah that was the ring, I was supposed to ask you in front of huh the whales you know hmm."
"Shut up! You can't even do it properly. I didn't stutter one bit. You always have to exaggerate" Oliver said.
"Anyway, so yeah, I said, I knew what you were up too. I said, that's ring's not what I like. I said, it's not that I don't want, it's just not how you should have done it. I told him, you have to be upfront with me, you know I hate surprises." She passed her right hand under his arm.
"So?" Alpert felt like something was missing, like he had been thrilled for nothing, in the end. "Is that it? You said, no, not the right time, bla bla? Like, that's it?"
"No," answered Oliver. "Of course not. We got to chat about it. How we felt about it."
"We also looked at some rings on Pinterest. Stuff I liked. Stuff I would like."
"But you still said no." Alpert was getting angry himself.
"Yeah, but it got me thinking. And I didn't say NO, per se. I just told him to wait."
"And the wait wasn't so long" added Oliver, with a thin smile. Authentic, this time.
"We went for a cup of ice cream, and I just asked if, IF, we get engaged..." started Julie.
"You used the word officiated. You couldn't even say engaged" ended Oliver.
"Yeah well, duh, okay, lemme tell it, you suck at telling things. So I asked him if we get officially together, or whatever... Who would you invite."
Oliver just looked Alpert with a smile, getting larger and larger.
"...What?" Julie punched Oliver in the sides. "What's that look suppose to mean?"
"I don't know, I just... I loved how you said it. That's all."
"... So there you go. Was it worth the fight with Capri?"
Alpert asked for another smoke, while the last inch of his drink got warmer. He grinned, lighted his cigarette, and gave them a cold look. "Don't mind her. It's just the cold. Or the hots. Something with her knees. It'll pass. Don't mind her. I just wanted to change subject, up there. You didn't have to get so jumpy about it, though."
He took a ten dollar bill from his pocket and placed it under his glass. He repeated to not worry about her wife. Soon enough, they'll call them again to play Scrabble or some other game. Someday when it wouldn't be so thick out there.
---------------
© Jean Derome, 2016
"Well, Julie and I weren't quite looking at that moment, to be honest", said Oliver.
"It kind of happened in a series of circumstances", said Julie. "Oliver and I were dating only since a month or two, but my mother was already eager to see us both settle."
Capri put a bowl of chips on the round table, in the middle of the room. Alpert wasn't wearing his glasses, she noticed. "Honey, what happened to your glasses", she asked.
"What", he replied. "Oh, I felt a headache coming, so I put them away for a while. Don't mind. Sit with us, for a moment" he said, in a silent voice.
Julie and Oliver continued to tell their story, side by side, like a routine they'd learned for some time.
"He was living in a very nice apartment, but with a cousin of his that wouldn't leave for no reason, even if he hated the city. Go figure."
"He wasn't from the city, to begin with. He never felt at home... Anyway. We started searching around and about. Something cozy, something alright to match both salary", Oliver told, with a look to his wife.
"And then, we had this amazing opportunity, with my best friend's husband, who was leaving this place. It was just in front of the market and it had this... Do you want me to help you with that" Julie asked Capri.
Capri flinched. She started to lift each drink to place coasters on the table. Her hands were moving in an upbeat fashion, as if the duty had to be done right away. "Don't bother, just be careful with those drink" Capri told their guests.
"This table is worth a lot, thanks to my uncle who really did a neat job on it. I just want it to be treated well."
"If you want," started Oliver, "we can hold our drink..."
"No," Alpert said in a hurry. "Please don't. It's no worry." He gave Capri an odd stare, and told them both to go on with their story.
"Really, I'll just hold my drink," suggested Oliver.
"No. No. It'll leave water stains on your shirt" Capri said in a clear voice. "Or, God forbid, on the couch", she mumbled.
"What's that?" Julie turned to Capri. "If your couch is so precious, we can leave. It'll stay dry, don't you worry." She was getting snappy, all of a sudden.
"Please, God, both of you, please stop," Alpert said, with his loud palm on the table.
The stomp made their cat run from under the couch to the master's bedroom. Oliver and Julie both gave a stare in its direction, before turning to each other. "I think it would be better if we leave", he gave, his voice was barely audible.
"How did you guys get married?" Alpert tried everything to make believe the evening was all okay. "Did you propose to her, or what?"
"We'll give you a call," Oliver said. "It's nothing personal, really. We got work tomorrow is all."
Alpert waited to hear them close the door of the building before pulling the chain on the security lock of their apartment. Plates were on the counter, in the cooking room, and there was nobody to be found in the living room. He gave a quick glance in the mirror of the hallway before moving to the bedroom. His girlfriend was sitting on the bed, arms crossed, legs straight in front of her. He tried to catch her attention, but nothing would do, she wouldn't budge. "Is it really about the ring the beers would've made," Alpert finally asked. "Or is it because you just don't like your friends?"
"I don't hate them. Gosh! What do you think" Capri yelled.
"Then it's something I did" Alpert said. "I alone must suffer the consequences of its Highness of..."
"Your SO funny, aren't you", Capri let out.
"You know what, rock yourself to sleep, tonight."
Alpert left the room, hearing Capri whisper something he couldn't make up, and open the light in the bathroom. The cabinet popped open. He took the clipper, and put it on one inch before getting his hair done by himself. It took him an hour or so to get done with it, and then again, he had to use a sharp razor to finish the job. But he was getting tired and felt like it wouldn't matter. Either if he finished the job that night or in the morning, the message was gonna get through. Capri entered the room just as he was placing the clipper back in the cabinet, beside the after shave.
"When are you done?" she asked.
"What do you care about it?" he asked back.
"What?...You know what, fuck you" she let out.
"Gee, thanks. Thanks a lot. Good night to you too, sweetheart", Alpert said.
"Oh I'm sorry. Have I hurt your feelings? Humm, maybe I, too, should be asking strangers how they propose to each other, so that I'll feel less awful about a rejection!"
"What are you even... I wasn't... They are not strangers, they are your, Your, friends. And I was trying to save the evening, in case you were too preoccupied with those fucking coasters of yours!"
"So, they're not your friends, anymore, is that what you're trying to say" Capri said, her voice now broken.
Alpert let the clipper fell onto the floor before trying to leave the room but Capri wouldn't let him. Her arms were stretched firmly on both sides of the door. She knew he wouldn't push her to get outside. Alpert grabbed her form under her belly and tossed her on the floor with a loud thump. "And don't try to follow me," he gave her, his finger pointing her.
It was already pretty dark, outside. Alpert took out his phone and texted Oliver and Julie to know their whereabouts. As it turned out, they went out for a drink, just a block away from their apartment, at this bar he once went to. He texted back to tell them he'd join them after he'd buy a pack of cigarettes. Oliver texted Alpert could have some of his, if he went straight for the bar; he wouldn't mind. If he gave some explanations, that is.
The bar was wide, yet the roof was pretty low, Alpert thought. He found the two love birds at first glance, sitting at the counter.
"You look different," joked Oliver, staring at Alpert's shaved head.
"I shave when I get cranky" told Alpert. "Wanna know about it?"
"Easy, man. Don't get all bitchy, alright?"
Alpert ordered a beer in a large glass, before laying his hand out to Oliver's pocket, the one he knew he had his cigarettes in, with a slight "Please" he grinned. A moment passed. They each drank silently while they smoke, as the television broadcast an old David Letterman show. Tom Waits was performing.
"I like that dude" Oliver said. "That song's a killer. Really."
"I don't know" Alpert said. "He's got that attitude thing... I don't really care for things like that."
"Did Capri say anything" Julie asked. "I've never seen her this uptight about stuff like water rings before."
"She didn't say anything, okay," Alpert said, drinking his beer, his eyes still on the television on the side of the bar. "She hadn't eaten well, lately, I don't know."
"...Did you say anything to make her get this mad", Julie asked again.
"Geez, what do I know. Maybe I did say something to get her this mad. What if, huh? What if, Julie?" He kept his head turned to the television set, his hand reaching blindly for the cigarette butt he left in the tray.
The couple stayed silent, in hope their host would apologize, explain what happened at their house, and at this bar, even. But the room would stay still, only the sound of the balls on the pool tables would fill the silence, with the roachy voice of the old singer on the television show.
"It's nothing" finally said Alpert, after a few sips. "She just gets cranky, sometimes, when it gets cold. Or hot. I never remember. Or just humid. You know, humidity... with the accident, and all. Something about her knees. Anyway. Sorry, guys. I should've felt it before you got out, should've texted you to stay at your place."
The couple shared a match for their cigarettes. Oliver put a hand on Alpert's shoulder, a pat of some sort.
"Oliver told my father before we went on the west coast" Julie said, with a grin. "He asked him if it was okay." She wanted to laugh.
"Yeah, well," started Oliver. "I wanted the coast to be clear, so to speak. If he was okay, with it, and all..."
"Just shut up, you just want to seem romantic" Julie said, now smiling widely. "Anyway, I knew something was up, so I asked some questions to this guy..."
"You blasted me with millions of questions", Oliver added.
"Whatever! Lemme finish... So I asked him what was up. But yeah, in the end, I got fed up, and told him to just drop it."
"What?" Alpert, also smiling, asked silently another cigarette from Oliver.
"Just drop it, I said" Julie said. "And he did. Well... Kind of."
"I had enough of her being mad and all, so I accepted to drop the idea, whatever it was."
"So I asked him, well, now that you've gave up, can you tell me what it was, but he wouldn't breathe a fucking word."
"I thought, at least, if I don't get to propose to her at that time, I'll still have the element of surprise for another time. She doesn't know, right", Oliver was shaking his head, his cigarette perched at the end of his left hand, his right hand reaching for Julie's thigh. Her hand reached his. Alpert noticed it.
"He's so stupid. Of course I knew you wanted to propose. It was the same thing as when we went to London." She smiled at the back of his head. "You get that dumb face of yours, when you have a plan in mind. You know you can't lie to me!"
"Aw come on," he gave her, as he looked up. Alpert didn't care for that face, he thought it was a phony face.
"You really can't keep a straight face, can you" Julie asked.
"So anyway," she continues, "he finally proposed to me that night, like a week before our trip. But it wasn't even a proposal. He was all, like, Huh I was like huh suppose to huh anyway hmm yeah that was the ring, I was supposed to ask you in front of huh the whales you know hmm."
"Shut up! You can't even do it properly. I didn't stutter one bit. You always have to exaggerate" Oliver said.
"Anyway, so yeah, I said, I knew what you were up too. I said, that's ring's not what I like. I said, it's not that I don't want, it's just not how you should have done it. I told him, you have to be upfront with me, you know I hate surprises." She passed her right hand under his arm.
"So?" Alpert felt like something was missing, like he had been thrilled for nothing, in the end. "Is that it? You said, no, not the right time, bla bla? Like, that's it?"
"No," answered Oliver. "Of course not. We got to chat about it. How we felt about it."
"We also looked at some rings on Pinterest. Stuff I liked. Stuff I would like."
"But you still said no." Alpert was getting angry himself.
"Yeah, but it got me thinking. And I didn't say NO, per se. I just told him to wait."
"And the wait wasn't so long" added Oliver, with a thin smile. Authentic, this time.
"We went for a cup of ice cream, and I just asked if, IF, we get engaged..." started Julie.
"You used the word officiated. You couldn't even say engaged" ended Oliver.
"Yeah well, duh, okay, lemme tell it, you suck at telling things. So I asked him if we get officially together, or whatever... Who would you invite."
Oliver just looked Alpert with a smile, getting larger and larger.
"...What?" Julie punched Oliver in the sides. "What's that look suppose to mean?"
"I don't know, I just... I loved how you said it. That's all."
"... So there you go. Was it worth the fight with Capri?"
Alpert asked for another smoke, while the last inch of his drink got warmer. He grinned, lighted his cigarette, and gave them a cold look. "Don't mind her. It's just the cold. Or the hots. Something with her knees. It'll pass. Don't mind her. I just wanted to change subject, up there. You didn't have to get so jumpy about it, though."
He took a ten dollar bill from his pocket and placed it under his glass. He repeated to not worry about her wife. Soon enough, they'll call them again to play Scrabble or some other game. Someday when it wouldn't be so thick out there.
---------------
© Jean Derome, 2016
mercredi 15 janvier 2014
dimanche 23 juin 2013
23 juin - Let no one in
First, there was this song: For No One, by Azure Ray.
--
I don't think we've ever even touched each other. Whether it's a hand, or shoulders. We definitely talked, but never really, really like mature adults.
Most of the time, it was mainly like that.
And, you know... I don't feel angry about it, about that picture in particular, anymore. It used to annoy me that this kind of guy could go out with such a hottie, but then again, I haven't dated one at that time. I didn't know what it was. Now, maybe I can say, I could say, that I know what it feels... But not the afterwards. You know, the part when she becomes famous, and stuff, and I go like, yeah whatever man, but inside I'd feel completely like broken glass. Maybe, because it was with her, and not with you. And kill me now, God, oh god, please strike me now if she knows aboutthis blog this WHOLE situation... I don't want things to get even weirder, even if it already is pretty messed up.
Again, it feels like this wedding's blues is still playing on me... It's like it follows me, at home, at work, in my tv shows...
I felt scared as shit that at my own, if it ever happens, I might joke to her about how the next ones will totally be cool or cooler, or how much I could get scared of marrying the wrong woman, so freaked out that I couldn't even tell my brother, nor my best friends, shit-pants-scared they would judge me... And then I'd be thinking to myself about me right now: "I'm not not dating by choice. I just don't get the attention from the girls I'd like to date, to know, to talk to."
--
Oh god... and, there you are. And then we joke. Hey sis, hey broski. Sup. Sup. Oh you slept with L. cool. yeh, sex. Last night, you were at G's apartment? cool, cool. yeah, good thing i dont have an apartment, you'd totes be sleeping here all the time. Oh no, that's right, I HAVE, it's just that you don't feel this way... when it's only me. Because when heeee's here, now you're all... Oh, good, god. Why are you in my head this much...
--
Why haven't we even shake hands, since the two years and half we know each other?
--
I'll love no one, and let no one love me.
---
--
JD
23, juin, 2013, 23h30
--
I don't think we've ever even touched each other. Whether it's a hand, or shoulders. We definitely talked, but never really, really like mature adults.
Most of the time, it was mainly like that.
And, you know... I don't feel angry about it, about that picture in particular, anymore. It used to annoy me that this kind of guy could go out with such a hottie, but then again, I haven't dated one at that time. I didn't know what it was. Now, maybe I can say, I could say, that I know what it feels... But not the afterwards. You know, the part when she becomes famous, and stuff, and I go like, yeah whatever man, but inside I'd feel completely like broken glass. Maybe, because it was with her, and not with you. And kill me now, God, oh god, please strike me now if she knows about
Again, it feels like this wedding's blues is still playing on me... It's like it follows me, at home, at work, in my tv shows...
I felt scared as shit that at my own, if it ever happens, I might joke to her about how the next ones will totally be cool or cooler, or how much I could get scared of marrying the wrong woman, so freaked out that I couldn't even tell my brother, nor my best friends, shit-pants-scared they would judge me... And then I'd be thinking to myself about me right now: "I'm not not dating by choice. I just don't get the attention from the girls I'd like to date, to know, to talk to."
--
Oh god... and, there you are. And then we joke. Hey sis, hey broski. Sup. Sup. Oh you slept with L. cool. yeh, sex. Last night, you were at G's apartment? cool, cool. yeah, good thing i dont have an apartment, you'd totes be sleeping here all the time. Oh no, that's right, I HAVE, it's just that you don't feel this way... when it's only me. Because when heeee's here, now you're all... Oh, good, god. Why are you in my head this much...
--
Why haven't we even shake hands, since the two years and half we know each other?
--
I'll love no one, and let no one love me.
---
--
JD
23, juin, 2013, 23h30
mercredi 5 juin 2013
5 juin - This is not a haiku
This city has rejected me in so many different ways I cannot explain, and it fills me with anger that I can't express, so I just sit there. In the middle of the way home, on a bench. Letting the music get me to an emotional state, which one, I don't really know anymore. Should I scream, or laugh. Or just react with the least honnesty as possible, faking not a smile, but a nothingness, while all I think of are many many different plagues of that heart of mine.
I wish that everything I can think of, when I come back home, would vanish right at the corner of that empty street, filled with strangers. I am the ghost everyone keeps crossing by. "He must wait for someone". I am so patheticly waiting for a person to ask me what is wrong. And I know, that is a fantasy that can't happen, if I don't make it happen.
The clock in my room is bouncing its red light on my empty cellphone that no one would revive with a call or a text. No one needs anyone at ten thirty, a wednesday. No one, except you, when you need advice for first date clothing. And it kills me not to know who's going to be the next lucky guy.
---
When all else fails
Focus on the good sides
Never fail yourself
This is not a haiku, it's how much I'm crazy about you. How amazed I am by the way you talk, that fashion of yours of always being serious and goofy at the same time, the look of understanding in your eyes.
dimanche 2 juin 2013
2 juin - An evening with Jack Tennenbaum
Je ne lui ferai pas ça. Pas à elle. Je veux une proximité sans pensée, voire sans émotion, juste une connexion physique. Elle, je le sentais clairement, semblais vouloir autant le support moral que physique. Je ne peux pas lui donner seulement une partie. C'était tout ou rien, ça le reste aujourd'hui, pour elle. Même à petite dose. Et je sais que je n'en serais pas capable. Surtout après une grillade de poulet qui reste comme un poing sur l'estomac.
On s'est rapprochés, on s'est frôlés, mais ça ne venait pas de soi. On restait las, de nous, de tous. Et comment en aurait-il pu être autrement. Après ce rêve où je l'imaginais se faire des illusions sur le fait que j'étais toujours attiré par elle, je me sentais sécure de toute folie. Quelle surprise que de la découvrir dans de si belles jambes, longilignes, and yet, bien fermes, le jeans coupant à peine à la culotte que j'imaginais coquette. T'as toujours aimé porter du linge cute pensant que personne ne voudrait le voir, l'apprécier surtout.
Tout est pour le mieux. Il n'aurais pas fallu tomber dans la remise en question, le couple, oui ou non, les enfants qu'est-ce que t'en penses, et quel genre de fille tu cherches, tout pour me prendre dans un cul de sac. Essayer de s'en sortir sans mentionner la phrase tueuse: "Tout sauf toi", y aller plutôt pour la subtilité: "Oh tu sais, juste un Salut jeté comme ça en entrant dans le magasin, dit avec une légèreté, Ou plutôt, oui plutôt une comédienne, une qui sache ne pas être gênée devant un appareil photo, de jouer des games, plutôt que de toujours être soi même et nous ennuyer avec nos vies pathétiques de personne de second rang qui ne pogne jamais tandis que nos amis s'envoient en l'air à tous les mois." Non, je voulais lui offrir une bonne soirée, pas de tracas, pas d'engueulade, montrer qu'on peut discuter raisonnablement, et que je reste un bon ami, non pas juste un mec en manque de cul qui lui claque les fesses avant de me prendre un poing dans la figure. Me connaissant, il aurait suffit d'un argument d'un côté comme de l'autre pour que le bordel prenne.
J'ai terriblement peur du bordel.
Il me faut soit une petite femme qui sache ne pas me poker trop intensément, que la chicane ne ruine pas une soirée.
Mais me connaissant, je n'aurai jamais ce luxe. Avec ma chance, ma putain de chance...
On s'est rapprochés, on s'est frôlés, mais ça ne venait pas de soi. On restait las, de nous, de tous. Et comment en aurait-il pu être autrement. Après ce rêve où je l'imaginais se faire des illusions sur le fait que j'étais toujours attiré par elle, je me sentais sécure de toute folie. Quelle surprise que de la découvrir dans de si belles jambes, longilignes, and yet, bien fermes, le jeans coupant à peine à la culotte que j'imaginais coquette. T'as toujours aimé porter du linge cute pensant que personne ne voudrait le voir, l'apprécier surtout.
Tout est pour le mieux. Il n'aurais pas fallu tomber dans la remise en question, le couple, oui ou non, les enfants qu'est-ce que t'en penses, et quel genre de fille tu cherches, tout pour me prendre dans un cul de sac. Essayer de s'en sortir sans mentionner la phrase tueuse: "Tout sauf toi", y aller plutôt pour la subtilité: "Oh tu sais, juste un Salut jeté comme ça en entrant dans le magasin, dit avec une légèreté, Ou plutôt, oui plutôt une comédienne, une qui sache ne pas être gênée devant un appareil photo, de jouer des games, plutôt que de toujours être soi même et nous ennuyer avec nos vies pathétiques de personne de second rang qui ne pogne jamais tandis que nos amis s'envoient en l'air à tous les mois." Non, je voulais lui offrir une bonne soirée, pas de tracas, pas d'engueulade, montrer qu'on peut discuter raisonnablement, et que je reste un bon ami, non pas juste un mec en manque de cul qui lui claque les fesses avant de me prendre un poing dans la figure. Me connaissant, il aurait suffit d'un argument d'un côté comme de l'autre pour que le bordel prenne.
J'ai terriblement peur du bordel.
Il me faut soit une petite femme qui sache ne pas me poker trop intensément, que la chicane ne ruine pas une soirée.
Mais me connaissant, je n'aurai jamais ce luxe. Avec ma chance, ma putain de chance...
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