Tout est question de sémiose, petit Arlequin.

Mercredi 27 avril 2011 à 13:12


The similarities are funny between before and now. Everything is coming back. Stay there, stay there, don't change, and don't give a fuck. You know anything and you can't love it, because of your fuckin' blue rabbit. I am, I am not. That is not a question. I just would like to say I fuck you, you and your machines, you and your uninterests. I just wanna say you are completely benighted, and dull. Language is not a reason. I couldn't say what is wrong or well. I just know I need a cigaret. Then let's go the park, to enjoy the sun and the illusion of holidays. I drink too much, I'm getting fater. To find a solution because "Phinou is funny with wodka" sounds like a pony playing piano in a bathroom. Excuse me my friends, but you're losing the game. The experience was just amazing. One certitude: the slovak house shines more than the polish one. Too bad, kids!

The scar is opened, my eyes as well. Time to come back to realities. Et lire un livre en français. Lire un livre en français. And you, you can cry, that change anything. He is destroyed because of a love addict. That's it. Just to fight against with but HOW?
Human is a cute and touching animal because of it.  


Dimanche 24 avril 2011 à 22:27


If you knew how I'm not crazy, how I'm so normal.
I felt like an animal in a zoo. Masturbating my brain with a shovel. Sleep all day long during this sunday, to balance the sleep deprivation. Useless day. I don't understand what you're expecting. I would never have said to come back there. You know, maybe I'm lost and I'm losing everybody. Don't try to plan everything, just enjoy your life. I would like to understand pollish, slovak and I'm working too much on this fucking front to really learn something. I don't know anything, I don't know where I'm going. You don't know me but I'm already missing you. Then stop talking about it.

Kill yourself. Don't remember, in front of the cops. What's the hell? Nothing, just again. What can I do if drugs and talks can't help? The Anarchist Cookbook. Plane. Going to find some speed. I can't believe it. WTF?? "I have some speed if you want" I have to laught or what? "T'as pas 10 balles?" That's it. My joy is scratching. Let's go to the park, together, to forget that life is crap, to forget that life is amazing and wonderfull as well. Fuckin' all.

Mercredi 6 avril 2011 à 14:49


Come-back. Red wine, marijuana, expensive tabacco, exponential kindness. Smiles, cheers, and welcoming. Snack wrap, scale of the dead, porridge, bread and hot chocolate. Money, work, barbecue, polleagues, weed, lots of LOL. Application, book, design project : glue. No problem, only solution. To breathe, to breathe, to breathe. The pure air of England in your veins.

TO LIVE. MAY of 2012. One year. 350£ during the week-ends, training in UK. 

You know, here I miss a lot of things. But I'm just living. Then, next year, seven month in the parisian mist, and come back. Because I feel that my life is here. And whatever the persons, whatever the weather, whatever you can think, whatever everything. To solve the french problems. To let the people live their life. Just thinking of me and me.
And have a look, sometimes or more, on loved persons. 

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