sidvicious

Tout est question de sémiose, petit Arlequin.

Jeudi 12 avril 2012 à 0:08

 

 A sponge. I am. Scopolamine et une sauce au cognac, avec des champignons. 



Dimanche 8 avril 2012 à 15:30

 

"You've got the parisian accent!" Go to fuck yourself, Touraine's people, fucking farmers MOUAHAHA, we'll always be stupid and sounds awesome and sick! RHAHAHA.

Drunk, high, stone. Fucking feel good after this bad. Breathing. I have a bit of MD left. Speeeeeeeeeed pleeeeease. I try to control what I want. NO, you don't need this shit, you don't need this shit, you don't need this fucking good SHUT UP SHUT UP SHUT UP. SHUT THE FUCK UP! Ok, Everything is better. I don't care anything except these good times I can get. With or without you, I fucking don't give any shit about EVERYTHING. Nobody can ruin that, I'm living. LIVIN, I dare to try. I need to meet you and YOU and YOU and YOU AS WELL. Met D., M., M. and D, being silly, to socialize a bit. "Are you lesbian, are you together?" "Fuck you Dude!" To be alone inside is true and unchangeable. But to have X or Y around, to have your smiles, to get your hugs, your good moods, everything. Why have I been so blind? FFS, no prices, I enjoy so much now. Spent a fucking good night, drank nothing, so sober. But it was as cool as possible. OMFG. RHAA. I want more and more, I want to drown myself in meetings, drugs, social life, poor or rich, deep or superficial, psyche or not. DMT my friend, go for it and run, run. Let's make our experiences, let's go for it.

I'm coming from the dark but RHAAA. All the symptoms are worst and worst with years. She was probably right the day she said "bipolaire,mon enfant". HAHA, contrôle, laisser-aller, contrôle, laisser-aller. BIG CLAP in your FUCKING HEAD. Mais rhaaaaaaq. Make me not thinking, again and again, let me forget and let's run. Lachons la bride et courrons dans les murs, marchons sur les abeilles, et enculons les habitudes, les mortitudes. Soyons fous, soyons ailleurs. Guys and girls, THANKS A LOT. 


Dimanche 1er avril 2012 à 19:23

 

Few times a day. Every day. Eat eateateateat. 
Falling again. More and more. No control.
Dry skin. Scared hand.  Neck and chicks. 
Marks, mask, lie, leak, weak. Acid, acid, acid.
Psycho or not psycho? Borderline?
Antidepressants? Painting? 
Too many questions. 


 

Jeudi 29 mars 2012 à 21:21

 

It's just a monumental conspiracy. Easier way, touching with fingers, feeling the support and the power of powder. Colorful. Soft Pastels, paper, cup. 
 
Weird day, I was so close to you but nearly. Finally back to the beginning. Around Stokes Croft. Get "lost"  in purpose in Ashley Down, and a so random meeting! After 11 months of silence! Surrealistic and impredictable. A very strange time lag, suddenly and instantly, something woke up inside. Kind of. Fucking weird, unbelievable. 




Mercredi 28 mars 2012 à 10:57

 

Combats verbaux vains, destructeurs et inutiles. L'alcool les rend de plus en plus violents. Dans une demesure improbable du genre: "I drink because of you". Cette merde en fait dire de plus belles. Il est temps de calmer le jeu, d'eteindre le feu ardent de cette putain de decadence. Hier encore, comme d'habitude, le silence etait ma reponse. Il debitait tout d'une traite, decousu. Puis, ma resistance a disparu, repondre avec la meme rage, plus sarcastique et ironique parce que le brouhaha des lamentations m'empechait de dormir et que ma patience s'amenuisait. Le sommeil est si salvateur, si doux, une fuite de la realite. Apres 5 minutes d'explications, j'ai capitule sur les landes des harangues blessantes, j'ai laisse le silence reprendre sa place. Ce n'est definitivement pas ma tasse de the de hausser le ton pour si peu d'enjeux. Il a fini par l'avouer lui-meme au milieu de la nuit et fondre en larmes et en excuses. Encore. Je ne sais pas combien de temps ce cirque va restait en place.

Alors que maintenant je me noie dans ce nouveau projet. Je vais voir en grand, me lancer, ne plus hesiter et commencer avant meme l'emmenagement, car c'est actuellement mon seul exutoire, ma seule issue de secours dans cette impasse dangeureuse.

Elle a dit 45kg, 1m545, suite de l'episode demain.
J'ai cauchemarde pendant deux heures apres la dispute. Elle mourrait sous mes yeux, et j'etais impuissante. Le second reve, le meme, m'a permis de la sauver, mes parents se marriaient et j'avais un chalet a la montagne. Je ne l'analyserai pas.


 

Mardi 27 mars 2012 à 23:01

 

Je suis putain d'associal. C'est le début de la fin. Zola a raison, et en plus il ignorait l'histoire de toutes ces chicks. Qu'ils aillent tous crever en enfer. Il va falloir suivre et se contenir. Il va falloir tenir et se retenir. Et surtout, il va falloir être fort en résistance. Il me faut des grandes toiles, et des putains à dessiner, des filles avec des guitares, des rangeos et des ceintures cloutées. Je retombe dans le féminisme de merde, le riot grrl à la con. J'ai 16 ans, encore. 



 

Lundi 26 mars 2012 à 3:25



Une bombe dans l'estomac, le papier qui se dissout, et la vie reprend. Tout est fluide, les corps sont légers, les esprits s'enveniment de créativité tordue et se passionnent pour le néant, problèmes qui n'en sont pas, les noeuds d'esprit, jouer sur les mots. Sur tes maux. Ce n'est pas une question de mâchoire tremblante, c'est juste se sentir léger, vivant, sensible et fort. Ailleurs et ici même, oublier, paupières cousues et pupilles dilatées. Alors kiffer le son des basses, celui du silence abasourdissant aussi.
Dans un sens, on en avait peut-être tous besoin. 
 


Mercredi 21 mars 2012 à 11:29

 

Laments and jeremiads. I hate him and his inanities. He asks too much, exercices of translation. I don't really care your cocktails and can't see the ins and outs. Be precise, let me know or leave me alone. I wanted to give him the gate. Need my mum, not this kind of dummy father you try to be. Care about your own kids, we'll see what we can deal together afterward. I'm hard, I know. We are talking the same language, aren't we? To unit all the family to look like these beautiful models presented in the stupid series you watch on friday nights. He already pissed me off, and not exactly actually, because of the funny way I took it. Nice intentions, you wanna look like a savior, defending the weak and the oppressed. "the widow and the orphin" We are not. I don't want to spend loads of time I haven't just for your tomfooleries. Praise yourself to the skies if you want, I've fun behind my screen. And I can already ear her saying we smoke too much and we should eat more. Just shup up. Both.

But ok, I accept to come back for his birthday, which should be near my quarter. And I'll see my sister. Party time, to get smashed. Again. Haha. 5 years left. It makes me happy, I should enjoy more because life is short. HAHAhahaha. My unlimited insanity is incredible, I like it.

No logic. Macabre crazyness. Jump jumpjumpjumpjump. Everything was as a single word. Runrunrunrunrunrun. You are dreary and bleak you said? I am playing, falling. Uneven, unable to enjoy something. Saved by a fucking silly job. Why are you talking about it? WHY WHY WHY? I enjoyed the morbid numbers, and I still do. Seclusion. I can see them even without. Manipulation, i don't give a shit. If you know too much, you'll be killed with a plastic spoon. I give me a month. Fast. And you'll say what you want, you can. Nothing, you understand? Nothing. A dangerous method as well, without Freud and his bullshits, the Coué's one. Fucking more efficient than all moanings and lachrymal threnodies. Selfmanipulation, self conviction, self persuasion. Self belief. Selfishness, that's the way. We are alone. We are fine.

The P's tattoo is fine now. I should have use these needles before. Re-order news supplies. To finish today. Find what to do and pick. Had a chat with Ju., LD and T. and feel the wind of friendship. Funny scatophony with LD. The artist at the Cube. Tonight or never. Should call T. he wanted to see it. Lots of blah blah. Buy some credit at the ATM. Distant World Final Fantazy OST interpreted by The Royal PhilHarmonic Concert Orchestra in London in november and UK Subs at the Fleece in may. Promises.


 

Lundi 19 mars 2012 à 13:24

 

 
" Elle, ne se questionnait même plus sur ce qu'il pouvait savoir de la vie et de la femme, dans ses ignorances de damoiseau honnête; et c'était lui qui la sentait timide, qui la regardait fixement parfois, avec le vacillement des yeux, le trouble étonné de la passion qui s'ignore. Mais rien encore de brûlant ni d'agité ne gâtait le plaisir qu'ils éprouvaient à être ensemble. Seulement, cette amitié devenait si vive, qu'ils ne pouvaient plus vivre l'un sans l'autre." 
E. Zola, L'Oeuvre

I'm unable to live ____. Find the rest of the phrase. Finish the sentence by yourself, I don't give a shit about ununderstandings and everything else. The quick brown fox jumps over the lazy dog. It bothers me. I don't know again. You have the answer, hidden under three meters of black peppered snow. Blur, empty, heavy. Comme un pavé lancé dans la flotte. I would like to have seen you alone, face to face, yes. And spending en evening chilling out together, drinking a fucking tea and HC and I don't know, watching Wall-E and talking. But a laught. It was a gluttonous or greedy laught, rought and ready, coarse and crass, and silly. Nothing to add, Frustrating and frustrated.
 
I think too much about too much, and I should draw instead. I can't wait to go in our new house. Seriously, a change. A involvement in something. Screen printing, stencils, phtography, canvas. It's time to move my ass. I've called all the agencies, no available houses. We're gonna start to see smaller. Go on. To think about a pattern to let everywhere in Bristol. A kind of I WAS HERE BUT WHO IS/AM I. Anyway, I'm thinking about it now. Not that dark, silly teenager. 
 

 

Lundi 12 mars 2012 à 14:42

The visual dictionary. Here, this little spread is a whitewater. Lots of rocks, rafting with rowing oars. Have you got enought fun? Sounded like if everyone had to have a decisive conversation with me. My hand is a shitty concept. I closed my eyes, opened a book, breathe beathe breathe. Go away. Leave me alone. Seriously killing me. Then I'm playing, flying, anywhere else, nowhere. Full of fire. Hot, uncontrolable. Void. Screaming inside, losing the voice. Deliring, shaking. I bought a paquet of cigarets. 


 

Samedi 10 mars 2012 à 22:15

-900: 7                     900-1000:6      
1000-1100:5          1100-1200:4      
1200-1300:3          1300-1400:2      
1400-1600:1          1500-1800:0      
1800-2000s:-2      2000-2200:-4      
2200+:-6                
2LH20:1      
   
60ma:1                   30mu:1      
20ca:1                     no:0
500+/1x:1 if1500+     


Mercredi 15 février 2012 à 2:26

 

En terre en glaise. Is it over? I don't want to anymore. 


 

Lundi 13 février 2012 à 0:19

 

Huff huff, kuff kuff. Kut with a cnife. Poor life of wife. Out comes the wolf.  Wolfes. A lonely wolwes has been in the present tomorow. Or maybe yesterday it/she/he will. Kill the kuff, huff. Tooooooo much. tou meutch. The question. Is she? Mark of strangulations on her neck. Second time. Not a lovely game. Her face behing the smiling mask. So shy, so reseresereser ved. Erased.  TELL ME THE TRUTH! Slowly, analyzing all the clues, the fragments of memory. Remind. Who can she talk to? "You've got a boyfriend?" Brother? THIS guy, the nice C.? "It depends" "I prefer girls, there are nicer" Hum. hum huf huf. Kuff kuff, kut. It questions my brain. 

Escape. No no, say so, say o sau no. Drug, acta. Durg grid drug. Fingers as butterfingers. It's hard hurd hurt hard drug gum grumf. I can see your futur in your past. HAHA. Ca faisait longtemps ages ago. Amonthwithoutany sMasheD thoughs in the smoke. Smog, smug smurf muf muf huff huff. 

Putain, ça me prend la tête. Ca ne sonne plus, pas d'enchainement. The fastfood de l'enfer, se cramer la cervelle, controler l'exces et sous-rire, sourire. Hypocrisie. Quit this application. Un souriceau. DO YOU UNDERSTAND. DO YOU DO YOU. Frantic piffles, wiffle. Flouncing, these dismal knots. Whinge with bleating squeals. Spearing a fosting lapping from the larkiness. Smallow, desperatification. Anticlimax and antiparoxysm. Shaft? Well. Do not cross the line. GAP. Stop thinking. Rope.  



 

Samedi 21 janvier 2012 à 2:59

 

And I don't understand anything cause I'm stupid. Don't ask, just don't ask! To sit on a pink sofa. In a old market. Question. Butch, femme, this kind of slang. Choice. CHOICE. CHOICE. Am I wrong? Is it just an appeal? I am fucking lost. Fucking lost. Doublé chuchoté. When I see them, my head turn out. Spliff. Why I haven't rolled? Forget these bollocks and your angryness. You failed. Again, AGAIN? Better? I hate winter. In a manner of speaking, new wave. Everything's right. My brain is off, my eyes opened. My body and my instinct want a girl. A GIRL.

HALEIGGLCECKUEEGQKEFC and I'm becoming mad because of for where why I fuck ponctuation I fucking don't care and stop watching on me like a burned synagogue threesome no way what wah how how how explain me please please please to meet you have a fucking beautiful face and you drive me crazy crazy FFS what's thaAAAAaaat fuck hormones buy dildos play me hard and putain de ta mère vas-dis moi où trouver ça ça ça pour je sais pas je prends le risque de tout détruire tout détruire encore et encore parce que je ne sais faire que ça. Mais tu te rends compte dans l'état das lequel tu te mets pour des meufs ? Des meufs, quoi ! De quoi te détruire la gueule.

Mais rhaaaaaaAAAA. Etre délibérément hétéro, c'est tellement confortable. Ma cervelle se traine dans la boue en hésitant. Mais qu'est ce que tu fous, t'as 20 piges, c'est le moment de vivre ta vie, de te taper des trips, de partir loin, d'aller de l'avant, de tester tout et n'importe quoi. D'être complètement mad, d'acquérir de l'expérience, de faire des rencontres, de baiser. BAISER LA VIE. Tout ne tient qu'à un putain de fil. J'ai même pas le cran d'ouvrir un tiroir pour prendre une paire de ciseaux. Mais bordel. Dieu que je me hais. 

And to talk about is not enought Kochanie. I don't care about porn, I don't care about hentaï or bdsm. I don't care, let's be an open couple. Trust us, fuck these stupid rules, fuck who you want, I fucking need a girl. And you can smile, that's just killing me. Is there anyone able to understand me? Come back Chou, don't be shy and let's have fun in a bed. Benefits. It doesn't matter. 

PUTAIN, je deviens désespérément folle. Une ado, une putain d'ado. 


 

Samedi 14 janvier 2012 à 12:38

 
 
And black stuffs. Just need my piano and cry on it after a strong splif. Sometimes, that's all I need. No reason. Do you realise how much I miss it and how I am becoming MAD without? MADAME MAD.  MADM MD AM mmm. You see? To disconnect. For nothing.

Pusillanimous, chimeric, decemvirs & metempsychosis. Useless translations. Sade, isn'it? The Marquis in the maquis is an anarchronism. HAHA. 




Samedi 14 janvier 2012 à 0:19

 

I jumped over the mirror. I'd seen my reflection winking the crack in the dark. Have a look on the book. Sooth smooth smoke shut up my shot mouth. My 1001st personnality answered by a creamy stream of screams. Broahahaha, don't want to see none of them. At the end, flowing in that foul fuel.
I wanna die right now. Cause I can't listen those extravagances anymore and not able to write that I can't say. Poor littlecuteanddangerous you, the only thing to to relieve you is taking a gum and chewing. So miserably, fees of tiny thin fun. 


 

Jeudi 5 janvier 2012 à 1:53

 


Lost catalyst. Broken, une bobine. Blur, in the dark, dirty glasses. Raining mind. Spared thoughs in the windy drops. Angry sky, hungry questionnement. Starving of answers. Tesla coil, transformed energy. Pampered on a sofa, walking on my back. Rolling like a square. Energy in the teeth. Could you run in the 4th dimension without feeling the waves of nodes? Not able to assemble two words together. Finding the end in the filter of your inexisting coffee machine. In your neck are hidden too much barbed wires. 
D40. 


 

Mercredi 4 janvier 2012 à 12:00

 

Silly to assess a year. Anyway, nearly the anniversary of the leaving, coming. Depends of your point of view. Relief? Comfort? Notions quite hard to tell apart actually. Discovering. Living, not thinking and being egoist. Just HUUUGE change. Lost yourself a bit more to find the way. Crazy way, let your mouth opened and not contain your fury anymore. That's new. You came blank as a virgin and now? Now look at you, you look like Dorian Gray. Let's paint. Let people make an image of you, who cares who you are, when even you don't know it anymore?- and say what you fucking think when necessary. 24 years of silent rebellion, THAT has been crazy. Incredible, stupide. To live in the frustration of your "unspokeness". Smiling face, being nice, helpfull, kind. GNAGNAGNA. BLABLA. I am, I wanna be. A bitch. Tick the right answer.   

Anyway, everything is revolved. I probably needed a cut, an abrupt change. To advance and assert myself, even if I hate these fit of temper, anger and other words finishing by -er.  I make me laught in front of the confusion, moody and impulsive. And I hate myelf. Action vs reaction. Intolerance, and lack of understanding, impatience. I'm becoming exactly that I hate in human race. But I feel better.

Ass kicker, he said.
My pleasure, I answered. 

Should be wrong to say "I'm not a fucking sucker" Cause NO NO NO. Nice pear, pice near or whatever. STUPID. Anyway, smile and enjoy. Fantastic weekend, surprising, high. Realized who are your friends and who are "less". Change of depth. Sad but true. So immature observation. Can't say I've been waiting for another answer, cause everyone is always alone in this monumental slapstick comedy. AloneandaloneandaloneandaloneAND ALONE. Impossible to talk about essential things. Have to cure it, becoming a real problem. Or not. Actually, if you face to the reality, nothing's changed. You're still a pawn on a chessboard.  Second line fucking you, hierarchy, dry. You're still doing nothing, you're still shuting up. Contrast and paradoxe. I'm everyting and nothing, so wrong and grapoeibcqjqd. It looks so negative, but I feel so good! SO GOOD! I got you. Pampampam 

Even so, I should be careful. Bitter review stating that lots of foods disappeared of my life and portions increased. Cause of aliments, money, brain, lazyness? JUNKFOOD. Nevermind, now I've some HNY postcards waiting to be written. 

 

Lundi 28 novembre 2011 à 23:37

 

Saez, ça se conjugue pas avec l'hiver parce que c'est un temps mort de froid, noir de nuit à quatre heure de l'aprèm, quand tu veux juste t'endormir encore. Une trêve de quelques mois. Ca recommence. Des gros handicapés et maintenant j'en veux à la Terre entière. Comme envie de tuer au moins six péquins innocents roulant sous les courroux de mon regard. HAHA.

Je me suis isolée dans ma chambre comme un ours qui hiberne. Cherchant encore et encore des infos sur les gangs et prenant des notes en regardant La Vida Loca, dont l'espagnol me paraissait bien chinois. Alors je me suis dit que je ferais bien de partir, me tirer d'ici parce que c'est morne et ennuyeux, que rien n'est fun sans alcool, sans bédo et que ça fait un bail que j'ai fumé. Au moins 3 semaines. Alors, si la vie est si monotone et que mon cable d'alim' pour ma tatoo machine est pourri, à moins que ce soit le fiche de la machine, bah bordel. Je sais même pas ce qui m'excite et je parlais aux frites, à M. pour essayer de savoir quand je pourrai obtenir ces foutus étoiles, ces foutus qualifications, un Mc Passeport et se barrer au bout de la tête. 

La fuite mon petit, la fuite. J'ai envie d'enseigner mais tu veux que j'enseigne quoi ? La connerie ? Ca m'a fait marrer deux minutes et trois centièmes de secondes. Encore. J'avais juste une pression dans le dos qui astiquait ma cervelle : "Putain, mais ta gueule, merde." Voilà. Ma perspective se situe loin d'ici. Je vais aller quelque part, il est temps que je fasse quelque chose, que je me bouge le squelette. Styri roky studia tak budem môct ucit' môj materinsky jazyk, ça pourrait valoir le coup, non ? Encore des projets qui seront noyés dans 6 mois. La danger, je me ris du danger. Mener un truc jusqu'au bout. Tu veux faire quoi de ta vie, connasse ? Des sandwichs pour Ronalds jusqu'à ta mort quand tu sentiras encore la frites dans ta cage de sapin, au boulevard des allongés ? C'est l'ironie du sort. Bingo. 



Samedi 22 octobre 2011 à 7:51

 

Dans l'encore silence du brouhaha urbain, je marche toujours sur ma nuit étrange. 
Un demi et une cigarette et demi. 



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