Jolie petite histoire

Joan Mirò

~

c'est l'histoire d'une croyante
qui ne savait plus vers quels saints se tourner
quand les étoiles ne clignent plus de l'oeil
mais s'imposent d'autant plus par leur réalité.
un enfant sur le bureau froid
qui serre sa peluche tout contre son ventre, au chaud
et baisse la tête quand le docteur enfile ses lunettes
pour ne pas voir qu'il se sait vu.
c'est l'histoire
d'une vieille femme qui collectionnait les fortune cookies
sans jamais les ouvrir
et dansait parfois dans son salon
en cherchant les paroles exactes d'un air de sa jeunesse
comme tous les dimanches soirs, depuis vingt et un ans.
la petite histoire d'une lettre
qui a glissé sous le lit un soir de février
et que la pluie pourtant n'a jamais reussi a effacer
des mémoires
c'est toujours la même histoire
après tout.

-lsh

~

Car nous voulons la nuance encor,
Pas la Couleur, rien que la nuance!
Oh! la nuance seule fiance
Le rêve au rêve et la flûte au cor!

-Verlaine

24.12.05

[mangez des pommes]

Meet Bob, ze Mérou.
(et vous etes aussi folles que sur les pistes du Vercors)

Cynamon

beautiful christmas season.
sure thing.
lights everywhere and in the eyes of passers-by, as if anyone could really care.
so you're standing there, desperatly searching for the kid in you. until you realize you're the kid itself, and noone ever was innocent enough to really trust in santa claus.
hallelujah, people, hallelujah. dance under the streetlamps with plastic smiles as flakes come twirling for the heavens - do you mind? right now all I need is a bit of attention. Just like the rest of you, the rest of us, the rest of them.
Human minds like so many dust clouds over the night, lazy howl of highway ramps, fuel and pine in the chimney...
ah, la belle ambiance. la famille unie au coin du feu, sans besoin de paroles tellement tous se comprennent intuitivement. ou peut etre qu'ils n'ont juste rien a se dire, cette grappe d'étrangers liés par la tradition. Be happy, it's christmas time. Be nice, it's christmas time. Be beautiful. Be you.
Y'a des discount sur la croyance, ou faut attendre les soldes de janvier?
Ca fait bien longtemps qu'on a tué le petit Prince...

Ceci n'est pas une pipe.

Magritte (Chicago)

~

Je voudrais défier ces tigres de papier
Tapis entre les lignes et nourris d'implicites
Oubliés.

Sometimes...

Sometimes , all you should do is Dance...

(ceci est un gribouillage, ne me critiquez pas mes proportions)

Music

"...Then read from the treasured volume
The poem of thy choice,
And lend to the rhyme of the poet
The beauty of thy voice.

And the night shall be filled with music..."

-Henry Wadworth Longfellow

Lemon tree

Max Ernst

I'm sitting here in the boring room
It's just another rainy Sunday afternoon
I'm wasting my time
I got nothing to do
I'm hanging around
I'm waiting for you
But nothing ever happens and I wonder
I wonder how
I wonder why
Yesterday you told me 'bout the blue blue sky
And all that I can see is just a yellow lemon-tree

-Fool's Garden, Lemon Tree

Meet the Python

Ladies and Gentleman - I'd just like to take a moment to remind you that the stupid-looking team you have just up here holds the world's comic powers in its hand.
People, meet the Pythons .
In no specific order : Graham Chapman, Eric Idle, John Cleese, Terry Gilliam, Terry Jones, Michael Palin.
->And now, for something completely different
->Life of Brian
->Sacred Graal
->The meaning of life

also available in french, american, and most civilized languages - no llamas were hurt in the making of this post.

Fiction

I'd never really listened to that song's lyrics in their entirety...there goes.
~

Life is bigger
It's bigger than you
And you are not me
The lengths that I will go to
The distance in your eyes
Oh no I've said too much
I set it up

That's me in the corner
That's me in the spotlight
Losing my religion
Trying to keep up with you
And I don't know if I can do it
Oh no I've said too much
I haven't said enough
I thought that I heard you laughing
I thought that I heard you sing
I think I thought I saw you try

Every whisper
Of every waking hour I'm
Choosing my confessions
Trying to keep an eye on you
Like a hurt lost and blinded fool
Oh no I've said too much
I set it up

Consider this
The hint of the century
Consider this
The slip that brought me
To my knees failed
What if all these fantasies
Come flailing around
Now I've said too much
I thought that I heard you laughing
I thought that I heard you sing
I think I thought I saw you try

But that was just a dream
That was just a dream

Losing my Religion, REM