RIEN

[English texts only. See RIEN French texts in the PAROLES section of this website FR.]

ARBITRARY SIGNS
Hi, welcome the surface of time. In this place and for a while, words will spread around together with some sounds, as many arbitrary signs, all with no ground.
I see arbitrary signs all over the place. Together they draw a line, a shape which has no surface. It’s when you chose not to ask why, for it is a self-evidence. It’s our ultimate common ground, the good old cloud of common sense. It’s in the texture of the time that anything could at once take place, and in the nature of the mind to look behind and try to make sense. But words repeat most of the time, instead of more, they make us wonder less. But you can go at any time or stay and finally find some rest. There at a point where you don’t mind about what’s gonna happen next.
Words are sliding on the mind, but how deep is the surface ?
One day i heard a boy asking : “mommy how long is 5 minutes ?”. And since then i keep wondering, i find no answer sufficient. Time is very astonishing, as persistent as it is incoherent. It’s only the human beings who made it constant, efficient. They made it the truth of it all, they made it the lines in your hand as if there was some kind of goal, as if everything had an aim, as if one could explain it all by a reasoning of the brain !

IF I WERE ABOUT TO LIE
If i were about to lie, if i were about to lie, I’d say how much i mind about what is in your mind. I would say we live in a paradise made of consent and compromise. You can only loose when you play dies. It is all collapsing right under your eyes.
I would say not to worry it is all fine. I would say not to hurry we are on time.
I would say you are so special or i would say you’re not, not at all. I would say that together we form a whole or i would say that together we’re bound to fall of being so comfortable, of being so normal, trying to be original, personal, natural and beautiful.

PRIVATE PROPERTY
Sometimes I wonder how we came to private property. There’re some people that explain it in this way : God originally created us as his properties, therefore we should have the duty to protect ourselves, but today Sir there is no God ! So why should be private property ? There is here no thing necessary.
And I wonder on the beach when I enter in the water, I always think that the see is freezing me. I never imagine that I am also making it warmer. It is like seeing a real thing only in 2D when today Sir we have 4 ! So why should we have two eyes only ? There is here nothing necessary. There must be more capacities in a human body.
Hey! Can you see where it is going but not according to where it does usually ?
Hey! Remember ! Remember what never was !
Can you understand what this could possibly mean ? Can we at once pretend that we can imagine a future that wouldn’t have already been ?
Hey welcome to the good old new ! Hey welcome to the good old new !

CHOP CHOP
Rien rien j’aime mieux qu’un petit peu.
Shed a tear before you tear to shreds the shapeless fear by which I am led. Chop chop dear, chop off my head, interfere and tear the leash to shreds of the mental gear in the bottom of my head.
Prends mon désir je te le cède, te donnant mon empire j’y accède.
Take my fear and tear it to shreads. Chop chop take me dear, remember what we said: chop and change dear about who’s in your bed. Tear me to pieces till dry I am bled. It was once upon now.
Smoke instead of finding possibilities and lose your way to go where nothing is cause it is nothing that explains all what was, will be, is. It’s in our brains or is it in our ears ?
It was once upon now.
Hey dry your tears and tear them to shreds. Chop chop come on dear, remember what we said : we drop our beers and we smoke more instead, it won’t be clear,
no it won’t go straight ahead.
Let’s walk down the unknown way, we are all homeless anyway!!

CONTINGENT CONTINUITY
Cause there is no one, no one good story. There is only contingent continuity.
Anything can be said. Anything can be said. Any game can be played ss long as the game has no end.
SAYING WHAT I’M DOING IS THAT THAT I AM DOING
SAYING WHAT I’M DOING IS THAT THAT I AM THINKING OF
STANDING WHERE I’M STANDING IS THAT THAT I AM DOING
STANDING FOR WHATEVER THING IS THAT THAT ONE IS WILLING
WILLING TO MEAN SOMETHING THAT ONE CANNOT BE MEANING
BY KEEPING ON TALKING BY CERTAIN RULES ACCORDING
ACCORDING TO CERTAIN PRINCIPLES THAT ARE CHANGING
KNOWING AND NOT KNOWING IS THAT THAT WE ARE MIXING
UNDERSTANDING IS NOT OVERSTANDING
IT’S STANDING ON A STRING BETWEEN WILL AND FEELING
IT’S LOOKING AT SOMETHING AS IT GOES OUT AND IT COMES IN
IT’S WISHING TO GET INVISIBLE DISAPPEARING
AND BLOWING IS THE WIND OUT THERE WHERE WE ARE LIVING
AND THE WIND IS BENDING THE BRANCH WHERE WE ARE SITTING
I HAVE SEEN THAT SCENE BEFORE. WAS IT IN A DREAM ?

CONTRE LE FUTUR

NOT A BIG DEAL (3’47)
To be here now, to know what but not how, to say a word and say a second word, to raise my hand, to walk barefoot in the sand, to imagine language as a slow machine, not to know the aim, to see differences in the same, and to know the end, but to keep on playing the game, to say « hello! How are you ? », not to know how to go on but to continue, to continue, to change my mind, to answer « fine », to undress here, to feel far when you are near.
What is the big deal ? What is the big deal ?
To find a cold grain in the sand and keep it warm inside my hand, to try to do nothing, not to want to have everything
It’s not a big deal ! It’s not a big deal ! It’s not a big deal ! A big deal ! A big deal ! A big deal ! A big deal ! A big deal !…

I AM LAZY (4’28)
I am lazy. When I’m alone I prefer not to do anything.
I will never understand why should these words ever be sang. Parfois, les mots je n’en ai que faire, c’est là qu’il m’arrive de les faire taire. Is it something like a prayer ? That would be far too hard to bear ! Le poid de ma tête resent la terre, comme ça, je m’occupe de ne rien faire.
Pas la peine de juger ce que tu fais. Pas la peine de savoir ce que tu veux. Pas la peine de dire, my dear.
I don’t need to understand all the causes supposed to explain it all. Toute façon à quoi ça mène ? C’est quoi qu’être identique à soi-même, si ce n’est là, tout se suite à cet instant même, quand la voix reprend le chemin des veines ? There are voices inside telling me that they wouldn’t want to hide anymore.
There is no need to judge what you’re doing. There is no need to know what you’re willing. There is no need to do what you’re knowing. There’s no way to say. Stop hypermentalizing, hey girl, just nothing !
J’peux pas, j’arrive pas à les faire taire, les voix, celles qui me disent c’que j’devrais faire ou pas. Pire que Dieu, mon boss, mon père, ya moi, et tous ces mots là derrière… Moi j’aime ça les entendre de travers. Et même je crois que c’est le nerf de la guerre, le choix de parler pour penser et de penser pour faire. Quoi ? N’importe quoi,mais de différente manière. A portée de voix, on distingue mieux l’adversaire. Mais yen a des tas, et c’est là que la langue se perd dans son schéma qui met le verbe derrière le sujet MOI et ses toutes petites affaires. Self-propaganda, elle a peur de manquer d’air, alors elle pense trop bas et elle avance ventre à terre, elle lève le bras et elle pointe un revolver, elle aimerait là ne plus faire machine arrière, elle est soldat dans une invisible guerre. Self-propaganda, il est temps de changer d’air.
Stop hypermentalizing, hey girl, you asked for nothing ! But you were given a tongue, you’re allowed to sing a song.

DANS MON JARDIN(3’47)
Qu’est-ce qu’a poussé dans mon jardin ? Après 29 bougies, des milliards de goûttes de pluie, il y a des fleurs des fruits dans mon jardin. Qu’est-ce qu’il y a aussi dans mon jardin ? Il y a aussi des orties, des mauvaises herbes à l’infini qu’ont installé leur nid dans mon jardin.Ya des orties dans mon jardin.
T’as planté du lilas dans mon jardin, t’as planté ton lit là dans mon jardin, et t’as fleuri mes nuits, au fil des jours t’as mis un p’tit morceau d’ta vie dans mon jardin. Qu’est-ce que t’as laissé dans mon jardin ? Un jour t’as repris ton lit, ton râteau ta pelle et t’es reparti, mais pour moi c’était nous ou c’était rien.
T’as planté des orties dans mon jardin. D’la blessure, du mépris, d’la haine, de l’ironie, un bon morceau d’ta vie dans mon jardin.
J’aime les orties dans mon jardin, ça traverse les habits, ça pique entre les plis, y’en a qui hurlent qui crient ba moi j’sens rien.
Pourquoi on passe nos vies à vouloir un jardin sans orties alors qu’un jardin sans orties, ça r’ssemble à rien ?
Vive l’apathie ! la drogue de l’oubli ! Je fume tes orties dans mon chagrin.

WHERE IS MY SPINE (3’22)
Where is my spine ? Where is my spine ? I lost it in the subway, that is a sign. Now i am down, now i am down. Spine is away, head hit the groun. Spine is away and my head hit the ground. For days I had dragged it in a plastic bag and I left it under my seat, where was my mind ?… Where is my spine ? Where is my spine ? I left it in the subway, that is a sign. I waist my time, now i waist my time queuing in the line of the lost-and-found. Well I just give a try, i just give a try, looking for my bones head upside down. For days I had dragged it in a plastic bag. I think I left it under my seat, oh please madam, don’t tell me it’s away or I lose my feet and I lose my mind ! Hey hey ! Hey hey ! Where is my spine, I wanna find my spine ! Let’s hold on to the beat, and to the rhymes. But now i am down, now i am down. Spine is away, head hit the ground. Spine is away, head hit the ground. Use your mind and all means to decide what it means for a sign to have meaning in our mindless times.

STORY OF MELODY (5’16)
This is the story of the life of Melody no one ever heard of. It’s electricity as rythm as frequency that she was born from. At that time, words were very depressed, do you know why should they make desire undress ?
Will it last or is it just a phase ? Is it true or is it just a stage ?
What happens next is that Melody feels at ease in the repetition. To print in our brain should it sound the same again with a few variations ? At this time, words are not important, do you know why we are not missing content ?
Will it last or is it just a phase ? Is it true or is it just a stage ?
The rest is still blurry, it will come don’t worry. What is necessary is a change of Melody. Would it be fiction that would make her unforgotten ? Once upon now listen a new story has begun…
She draws an ondulating line, softening the times. « Be kind, there is no need to irritate the minds ». But still she wants to belong to no kind, but a Melody of signs. Trapped into a double bind, soon she became a lie alive, a lie alive.
This is the story of the death of Melody now we’ve all heard of. It’s electricity as rythm as frequencies that she is dying from. Meanwhile, words created meaning, do you know why we’re all aim at understanding ?
Will it last or is it just a phase ? It is fast and it is just a stage…
What happened next is that Melody felt at ease in your recollection. She printed in our brains, differences in the same and made new connections. Here we are, and she is now with us, do you know why it is so mysterious ?
Will it last or is it just a phase ? Was it true or was it just for stage ?

iD2F11D / MTiD (4’02)
(Fr) i D 3 4 2 E 5 D F 11C 1 A 2 6 7 1 100 C. i D 2 E D F 11 C 100 C. 100 C F A C 100 C C R i E, 100 C D A 1 D I E.
(Eng) B A W, 4 U K N O N L E B N B 2 E N 2 i D N T T E S. B A W, 4 U K N O N L E B N B 2 E N 2 i D N T T E S.
K N i C N E O R i S ? N O, N O, O N L E N 1 i. N O, N O, O N L E N 1 i .
(Fr) L, L A V 1 R D B T, L A V 1000 H N A 16 iD. L, L U D, L O B i C A A D L O A 1 D 100 T B T 7 T A B C A N M F R K H T P i F R K R i R.
(Eng) U N O Y i K R 4 U ? i M N P S F U R 2. D E P N S i D U, U R M E N i M U.
(Fr) G C S i J A R i V S E R S A C…. 1 100 C ?
(Eng) K O S K O S U R S Q E N M i S ! K N U C K L E R ? K N U F E L D E R ?
(Fr) L R E 100 1 P R O B L M 100 V O A R L O B G M M. L K L Q L, R E Q L, O L i E 2 S O T. 11 i M A J N R S T 1D M 11C L E N R, C L E 6 T M, 11 K L Q L, 1100 Q L 100 MM L E D S i D.
M F O 1 6 T, L U T, D S i D 2 M S O T 100 R S T 1 D M. F O D S i D 2 M S O TV R 1 K O F i K C 100 C.

SOME SAY (4’15)
Some say I am bright, some say I am proud, some say I am right, some say I am loud. Some say I am queer, some say I am great, some say I am clear and some say I am straight. Some say I am sure, cool, quiet and kind, some say I am poor, fake, mad and blind, confused and mutilated.
Some say I should do what they say, some say I would rather not pay attention to what I am but to what I do. Or are they nuts, confused and mutilated ? Some say I’m sweet, some say I’m strong, some say I’m weak, some say I’m wrong, some say I’m full of joy, some say I look like a boy. Sorry mum some say I’m dumb. Sorry dad some say I’m bad. Sorry me You are alone and you are free. Some say I do have a personality that is, in their view, my property. But on my wall I’ve stuck some notes describing all what I am not, superior nor inferior. Some say I’m less this and that or some say I’m blessed to have much more. Some say I need not to compare, nowhere it leads drop it the pair : superior and inferior.
I have a body called myself and happily the march of death will continue to make of me some body new and someone free..
Sorry mum some say I’m dumb. Sorry dad some say I’m bad. Sorry me You are alone and you are free.

FUCK THEM ALL BUT SOFTLY (4’50)
Fuck them all, but softly.
I m not. I m not. Together we are or together we lie, I fear I’m gonna die.
There’re sitting in the dark, right here, waiting for a spark to appear,
but do you have a light ?
“Don’t let me in the dark, i fear i’m locked inside your heart mum”,
girl would whisper in the night.
When all i see is black i hear :
“just try to figure out girl, right here, what now sounds like”.
They want me to say what in here ?
“Stop it stupid liar”, i hear, “it will be alright”.
You come here, when no one expects you.
I hear : “don’t try to say things that you don’t understand, and shut the fuck up when it is to explain”. Do you feel helpless ? And lose control of your behavior ? Do you have unexplained doubt about your own ability to suffer from indecision ? Are you hesitant ? Are you uncertain to the correct path in life ? Are you unhappy with your current life style ? Do you day-dream day-dream day-dream ? Do you feel exhausted in body and mind ? Do you have unwanted thoughts, preoccupations and worries ? Do you repeat the same mistakes ? Repeat the same mistakes, repeat the same mistakes, repeat the same mistakes, repeat the same mistakes

JE CONTINUE (3’32)
Je continue d’avoir plus que moins. Je continue d’avoir un corps, dont une tête et deux mains. Je continue d’avoir encore en tête demain. Je continue d’avoir envie d’être ailleurs trop souvent. Je continue d’avoir « pas l’temps ». Je continue d’avoir foi dans ma seule expérience. Je continue d’avoir soit trop, soit pas assez confiance. Je continue d’avoir de la chance.
Je continue de penser à fermer à clés pourtant je continue de penser que c’est d’moi-même qu’il faut me méfier. Je continue de penser que chaque instant est décompté. Je continue de penser qu’on peut créer le temps. Je continue de penser qu’y en a pas beaucoup des trucs importants. Je continue de penser que le beurre oui, je continue de penser que l’argent du beurre aussi, parce que c’est moi la crémière. Je continue de penser que c’qui compte c’est pas d’être cela ou d’être ceci, mais de continuer de faire. Je continue de faire la guerre à ma propre fainéantise. Je continue de faire comme si j’en étais sure, quoi que je dise. Je continue de faire de la musique sans aucune expertise. Je continue de faire des rêves érotiques. Je continue de faire l’hystérique. Je continue de faire avec qui j’suis, et parfois sans les autres. Je continue de faire ma vie et vous et vous la vôtre.
Je continue d’aimer sentir les rayons du soleil. Je continue d’aimer ranger mon nez dans son oreille. Je continue d’aimer ce moment juste avant le sommeil. Je continue d’aimer sans trop savoir c’que ça veut dire. Je continue d’aimer les gens et de bien trop sourire. Je continue d’aimer qu’il me prévienne avant de jouir. Je continue d’aimer son sexe dans ma bouche. Je continue d’aimer plus Crash que La Mouche. Je continue d’aimer me pencher aux fenêtres. Je continue d’aimer devenir au lieu d’être. Mais je continue d’être de la dernière génération de la guerre. Je continue d’être de ceux qui portent dans leur chair le sperme d’un rescapé de l’enfer. Je continue d’être de ceux qui doivent souffrir pour être fiers. Je continue d’être en route pour nulle part. Je continue d’être impatiente et d’me sentir en retard. Je continue d’être par moi-même jugée coupable. Je continue d’être entre-deux en équilibre instable. Je continue d’être de ceux qui sont pas sûrs d’en être capables. Je continue d’être en train de sauter. Je continue d’être de l’autre côté du miroir. Je continue d’être en apnée et aveugle dans les eaux noires d’un monde malade. Je continue d’être en vie et d’avoir envie non pas d’y croire mais de continuer pour voir que tout c’qu’on a fait, que tout c’qu’on a aimé, et que tout c’qu’on fera, jamais personne ne nous le prendra.

ESSAIS EMISSION

3’GOOD NEWS (3’13)
Shall it be an ephemeral expiration
Or a longer relief
Or a bigger fragment
Of my self fluctuation ?
It’s like instead of being
scared of the emptiness
Instead of holding my breath
I just feel free to dive in.
For long I’ve been searching the cyclone’s eye
In my plurality
With mental surgery
I just found a virtual I.
Hello hello I want to know you !
Well it’s impossible
Cause an invisible
Makes me, and you, every second new.
Good news self is non-sense – Good news self is non-sense
I’ve got a sense of non-self, well that’s the non-sense of self.

DANS MON JARDIN (5’13)
Qu’est-ce qu’a poussé dans mon jardin ? Après 29 bougies, des milliards de goûttes de pluie, il y a des fleurs des fruits dans mon jardin. Qu’est-ce qu’il y a aussi dans mon jardin ? Il y a aussi des orties, des mauvaises herbes à l’infini qu’ont installé leur nid dans mon jardin.Ya des orties dans mon jardin.
T’as planté du lilas dans mon jardin, t’as planté ton lit là dans mon jardin, et t’as fleuri mes nuits, au fil des jours t’as mis un p’tit morceau d’ta vie dans mon jardin. Qu’est-ce que t’as laissé dans mon jardin ? Un jour t’as repris ton lit, ton râteau ta pelle et t’es reparti, mais pour moi c’était nous ou c’était rien.
T’as planté des orties dans mon jardin. D’la blessure, du mépris, d’la haine, de l’ironie, un bon morceau d’ta vie dans mon jardin.
Après de violentes pluies sur mon jardin, et les longues heures de la nuit dans mon jardin, sous les nuages gris, ont poussé des arbres avec des fruits, au milieu des orties de mon jardin.
Mais j’aime les orties dans mon jardin, ça traverse les habits, ça pique entre les plis, y’en a qui hurlent qui crient ba moi j’sens rien.
Pourquoi on passe nos vies à vouloir un jardin sans orties alors qu’un jardin sans orties, ça r’ssemble à rien ?
Vive l’apathie ! la drogue de l’oubli ! Je fume tes orties dans mon chagrin.
Je fume tes orties dans mon chagrin.

IN MY HEART (4’21)
You’ve fed my soul so intensely that forever you’re part of me
My partner, my sweetest, my sweetest candy, my Shining dust, will you darken far from me?
In my heart you won’t fade away
In my heart you won’t fade away
You know, already I miss you buddy, lovers we were so friends can’t we be ?
I still believe in this uncertainty cause what is is but what isn’t may be
In my heart you won’t fade away
In my heart you won’t fade away
A purest thing I wish is your happiness. Free your heart and open your loneliness!
To get your smile back you’re flying miles away but in the backyard of my mind you’ll stay anyway
Cause In my heart you won’t fade away
In my heart you won’t fade away

7 YEARS (6’09)
7 years makes 365 weeks – 7 years makes 365 weeks – 7 years makes 365 weeks…
Today I visited granma, and I kissed her flabby cheek.
She is so old ! She looks like a rotten apple.
7 years makes 365 weeks – 7 years makes 365 weeks – 7 years makes 365 weeks…
When I met him, he turned his back on me. But I insisted, I insisted :
“Excuse me mister, but you look very old. you look very old.
What if you… what if you embrace me ? With your full body
What if you embrace me ? with your hair and your legs like a baby.
And your ear is soft ! And your skin… I want it to be mine ! I want it to be mine”.
And what if 7 years makes 365 weeks ? what if 7 years makes 365 weeks ? what if 7 years makes 365 weeks ? what if 7 years makes 365 weeks ?…
What did you do in your 7 first years ?
You can’t recall you’d better call your mum
Your nose grew, your brain blew up, you came into the dial of time, the dial of time
These words of mine that do not rhyme became a new song.
Since then, it never stopped, it never stopped. Things never stop.

WATER SOUL (5’30)
I hear a balloon dancing, I smell a scary feeling,
I scream a silent landscape. Can over gravity be an escape?
I dive into my brain maze and my senses get erased.
Concrete undulation, mental masturbation.
My soul is full of water and when it cries it doesn’t matter. I see a darkness and I don’t need your lighter to shine on my heart disorder.
I take musical pictures of my perception I’m not sure
whether or not it’s blindflooded by the tears of my mind.
My soul is full of water and when it cries it doesn’t matter. I see a darkness and I don’t need your lighter to shine on my heart disorder.
My soul is full of water and when it cries it doesn’t matter. I see a darkness and I don’t need your lighter to shine on my heart disorder.
I hear a balloon dancing, I smell a scary feeling
I scream a silent landscape. Can over gravity be an escape?
I dive into my brain maze and my senses get erased
Concrete undulation, mental masturbation.

SOME SAY (4’29)
Some say I am bright, some say I am proud, some say I am right, some say I am loud. Some say I am queer, some say I am great, some say I am clear and some say I am straight. Some say I am sure, cool, quiet and kind, some say I am poor, fake, mad and blind, confused and mutilated.
Some say I should do what they say, some say I would rather not pay attention to what I am but to what I do. Or are they nuts, confused and mutilated ? Some say I’m sweet, some say I’m strong, some say I’m weak, some say I’m wrong, some say I’m full of joy, some say I look like a boy. Sorry mum some say I’m dumb. Sorry dad some say I’m bad. Sorry me You are alone and you are free. Some say I do have a personality that is, in their view, my property. But on my wall I’ve stuck some notes describing all what I am not, superior nor inferior. Some say I’m less this and that or some say I’m blessed to have much more. Some say I need not to compare, nowhere it leads drop it the pair : superior and inferior.
I have a body called myself and happily the march of death will continue to make of me some body new and someone free..
Sorry mum some say I’m dumb. Sorry dad some say I’m bad. Sorry me You are alone and you are free.

I DON’T MISS HIM (3’55)
sometimes I wait for his eyes to let roll my tears
sometimes I wait for his arms to let go my fears
But I don’t miss him, I live my life well without him.
I don’t miss him, I do my things, and I keep him in a corner of my thoughts and in the stories of my dreams.
I don’t need him, he can be far, and still I sing.
No I don’t need him to be ok or to be laughing.
There’s no way to make of love a source of lack and suffering.
I just love him, and I hide him there under my skin and
I love him. Strangely enough, I will until the day my memory is not able to recall him.
But sometimes I wait for his eyes to let roll my tears
and sometimes I wait for his arms to let go my fears
But I don’t miss him, I live my life well without him
I don’t need him to be ok or to be laughing
I just love him and I hide him there under my skin.

MECHANISM OF SCHIZOPHRENIA (3’37)
Her face turns white and her eyes get red. She cries, she tries to understand.
She thinks she thins and she thinks again. She wonders what is in her head.
Anxiety hurts like an open scar, the enemy of your inner war.
You wish you hope you pray a star, you wonder who you are.
a/i/men
She whimpers out but she screams inside, she burns her heart instead of lighting her fire
How much different is pretention from pride ? She trust herself but herself is a liar.
a/i/men
She firmly claims her atheism but face to her brain voice she gets on her knees
Her religion is psychologism or self blow jobbing our modern disease ?
a/i/men

SKYPE SONG (2’40)
He is not there, he is somewhere
Où sa copine cannot reach him
He is not home, he’s with Jerôme
Having some food, et levant le coude
Il est loin d’elle, his cinderel-
-la wants to talk & wants him to walk
away from his friend and decide to spend
des heures et des heures skyping with her.
But now it’s no fun. Still he doesn’t come…
Yes here he is ! Ma friandise !
No need to please ni que je m’épuise
À crier son nom ! De sa voix le son
Penetrates my bones with pixelized tones
He smiles on my screen: “Bonjour perrine!”
I love you machine, I love you machine
Baby take off your clothes ! à distance on ose
Being dirty getting close.. Oh give me a dose
of exiting image, a new sexual language
Turn me on par telephone ! C’est bon ya personne, together we come.

FALL (5’52)
The man is in the fall of life when days are shorter than the nights
Baby eyes, snowy hair all bright, soldier’s body after the fight.
The girl is living her late springs, short past for a long following
Blond and thick hair, elastic skin, wide open eyes in becoming.
How can they cross the same season, the summer of love ?
There’s no logic there’s no reason to fall in love.
The man dreams of the princess there locked in his Winter Palace where
Forever she’s his teddy bear but she would die from lack of air.
The girl thinks that the prince affair is too tasteful to be too rare
They have to deal, they have to dare to make the rules of the game fair.
How can they play the blurry game, the game of love ?
What is the goal ? What is the aim to fall in love ?
I don’t want to fall into fall again
I don’t want the lack, don’t want the pain
Of falling back to loneliness
And tidy up of “us” the mess.
The man the girl they don’t play dart, no hitch of theirs should hurt the heart
Cause both of them wants to play smart and to see love as work of art.
Like any art, love is process. It’s decision in time and space
Excluding all exclusiveness and making it open, nothing less.
How can they make their common art, the art of love ?
With no danger to fall apart when fall in love ?
We can fall into fall together, we can fall and be in love forever
We can go to fall from summer if we don’t fear but desire
To be alone with each other, to change and change and be stronger
To love and learn to be kinder to ourselves, to him, to her.
We can fall into fall together, we can fall and not fear the danger
We have fallen in love forever. We have fallen in love forever.

JE CONTINUE (4’15)
Je continue d’avoir plus que moins. Je continue d’avoir un corps, dont une tête et deux mains. Je continue d’avoir encore en tête demain. Je continue d’avoir envie d’être ailleurs trop souvent. Je continue d’avoir « pas l’temps ». Je continue d’avoir foi dans ma seule expérience. Je continue d’avoir soit trop, soit pas assez confiance. Je continue d’avoir de la chance. Je continue davoir peur du matin au soir, je continue d’avoir plus de désir mais plus d’espoir.
Je continue de penser que l’espoir comme la tolérance ne font pas sens. Je continue de penser à fermer à clés pourtant je continue de penser que c’est d’moi-même qu’il faut me méfier. Je continue de penser que chaque instant est décompté. Je continue de penser qu’on peut créer le temps. Je continue de penser qu’y en a pas beaucoup des trucs importants. Je continue de penser que parler avec soi-même est une folie banale. Je continue de penser que se tuer c’est la mort la plus normale, et comme ne pas voter, bientôt ce s’ra même plus légal. Je continue de penser que le beurre oui, je continue de penser que l’argent du beurre aussi, parce que c’est moi la crémière. Je continue de penser que c’qui compte c’est pas d’être cela ou d’être ceci, mais de continuer de faire.
Je continue de faire la guerre à l’ennui comme à la bêtise. Je continue de faire comme si j’en étais sure, quoi que je dise. Je continue de faire de la musique sans aucune expertise. Je continue de faire des rêves érotiques. Je continue de faire l’hystérique. Je continue de faire avec qui j’suis, et parfois sans les autres. Je continue de faire ma vie et vous et vous la vôtre.
Je continue d’aimer sentir les rayons du soleil. Je continue d’aimer ranger mon nez dans son oreille. Je continue d’aimer ce moment juste avant le sommeil. Je continue d’aimer sans trop savoir c’que ça veut dire. Je continue d’aimer les gens et de bien trop sourire. Je continue d’aimer qu’il me prévienne avant de jouir. Je continue d’aimer son sexe dans ma bouche. Je continue d’aimer plus Crash que La Mouche. Je continue d’aimer me pencher aux fenêtres. Je continue d’aimer devenir au lieu d’être. Mais je continue d’être de la dernière génération de la guerre. Je continue d’être de ceux qui portent dans leur chair le sperme d’un rescapé de l’enfer. Je continue d’être de ceux qui doivent souffrir pour être fiers. Je continue d’être en route pour nulle part. Je continue d’être impatiente et d’me sentir en retard. Je continue d’être par moi-même jugée coupable. Je continue d’être entre-deux en équilibre instable. Je continue d’être de ceux qui sont pas sûrs d’en être capables. Je continue d’être en train de sauter. Je continue d’être de l’autre côté du miroir. Je continue d’être en apnée et aveugle dans les eaux noires d’un monde malade. Je continue d’être en vie et d’avoir envie non pas d’y croire mais de continuer pour voir que tout c’qu’on a fait, que tout c’qu’on a aimé, et que tout c’qu’on fera, jamais personne ne nous le prendra.