vendredi 14 mai 2010

Mythe de Sisyphe*

Je me suis réveillée ce matin avec encore l'envie de vomir qui me trainait dans le ventre.

J'ai vu le soleil dehors, j'ai entendu mon voisin plaisanter avec son infirmière.

Mon colocataire avait mis la musique à fond, il se préparait un petit-déjeuner dont la bonne odeur a envahi tout l'étage. Et puis il a reçu des amis et depuis une heure ils rient ils rient ils rient.

Je tremble partout, je tremble je tremble je tremble, j'ai les doigts encore un peu anesthésiés, et depuis mon réveil j'angoisse, je panique. J'en ai vraiment rien à foutre des oiseaux dehors.


Qu'est ce que je vais faire.




*"Il n'y a qu'un problème philosophique vraiment sérieux [...]"

lundi 10 mai 2010

Premium Bitter

I just don't have the strength. To do this.
My future is too wide, too hard. It's too much work. I have too much to build, to rebuild, to repair, to forget, to forgive, to erase.
I can't handle it I really can't.
It's too much work.


Why can't I just hide and everyone would forget me and maybe I'd forget myself too and disappear in apathy.

dimanche 9 mai 2010

Anna Quindlen

The thing that is really hard, and really amazing, is giving up on being perfect and beginning the work of becoming yourself.

What happens when you stop trying to reach perfection?

I mean, how does it feel?

I'm just wondering!

vendredi 7 mai 2010

'In a carbon conscious world, we got a fossil fuel chancellor'

Right. I'll write this in English both because it's mainly going to deal with the elections, and because I've just finished writing an essay in Shakespeare's language, meaning my brain hasn't switched on the "French language is your mothertongue please come back to it" option yet.


I don't want to write a so-called political analysis just like hens lay eggs - journalists are far better than me at that useless exercise. I respect everybody's ideas as long as they do not involve this irrational concept named racism. But several things caught my attention as I'm French, therefore my culture is the greatest after all. Yes, British elections were strange to me at first. You don't even know exactly when you are going to vote. In France, we know the date years in advance - in fact, as soon as presidential elections are over, the grounded parties go straight to the back of the classroom with dunce caps and start working better on the next voting. That said, one could wonder whether it is a real punishment or a relief not to be at the head of the government's massively chaotic ship when the crew is French. Mind you, I'm a Labour sympathizer (I truly sympathize...), but come on - if we could strike to increase the amount of French fries in a medium-sized portion at McDonalds, we'd passionately mug their headquarters just like the good old sans-culottes set la Bastille on fire.
Anyway. So yes, it could sound quite bizarre, but in the end, it is probably not such a bad idea. Elections have to be called within five years of the last opening of Parliament.

UK: government crisis? Okay, let's vote and change the staff!
France: government crisis? Damnit, gotta wait for two years before next elections.

Ah, British pragmatism... OKAY it doesn't really work like this in France as we have other elections which can greatly change governments' policies... I'm just taking the piss.

Another thing surprised me as I am a typically French person: the general election day is a Thursday. You know, the day when everyone's at work. Some friends of mine had to wake up earlier to go and vote. Others had to force themselves into going to the poll stations after a hard-work day. Voting in the United Kingdom requires motivation.
However, French abstention rates are very similar to UK ones, or so I've seen. After all, we, the French, like to go fishing on Sunday afternoons. Striking all week is nerve-breaking.

But what I really am enjoying is the media panic attacks elections seems to create. I often buy newspapers to see what kind of delirious articles so-called specialists are going to write. I like the sarcastic tone most media adopt, although sometimes I'm quite annoyed at how non-serious they can be. Gordon Brown may have depicted this old lady as a bigoted woman - does this really require editors to turn their headlines into a gossip-contest? 
I have to say that this overwhelming satire is sometimes a bit thick - but it is mostly,entertaining. I might be wrong, but to me, most newspapers sounded more like Le Canard Enchaîné than Le Figaro (I'm talking about satire vs seriousness, not political tendency).
 And not only media take part in the game - brands of all sorts customize their products just for the elections. I'll let you decide whether this is funny or appalling:
















Such humour, although it does exist in France, seems to be more widespread in the UK.  Or at least, more accepted, so that even serious newspapers can have a laugh. (Don't get me started on the quality of most newspapers here though.). Some might say it demeans the crucial consequences of the elections, I'd reply it can also be a way to attract those who would not really care about it at first.
But, what am I doing here... Comparing the UK and France? Have I turned crazy? They're not even on the same continent!

...
Are they?

YES. Yes, you are part of Europe, you little rebellious pounds-loving island. (I'm not saying you're fat. I'm just underlining your tender feelings for the Queen's face on notes). And yes, you are confronted to similar problems. Those of the continent, you know. Unemployment, low wages, violence, etc. But also, democratic problems due to both abstention and the lack of alternatives people seem to complain about. It seems like most Europeans have given up on politics. Voting now tends to flirt with the word 'against' rather than 'for'. But however big the disappointment can be, voting is not something to be taken for granted.
So, vote. The main argument, the casual sentence you hear everywhere, is, "express yourself". What if you have no idea who to vote for? What if you don't care, or don't identify with anyone, or have no opinion? I say you shall vote anyway to express the fact you know you are playing a key role in democracy. The reason most people give for not voting is that they don't know who to vote for. Well, if I vote, it's not only to chose someone (although it could be worth considering thinking about it). I vote because I ought to, because I want democracy, or what's left of it, to survive. Not voting is somehow coming back to totalitarianism.

You know I love you, Marmite creators (why, ooh why have you given birth to that?). However, if Cameron makes it, I shall happily go back to my homeland and  bravely face our little dwarf of a president.


PS: 99% of this article really is just meant to be stupidly funny. The aim of this article is not to create a political debate, it's just a way to talk about several subjects on a very light tone - and also to keep myself busy.

PPS: the title of this article comes from David Cameron, delightfully stabbing Gordon Brown with the help of literary techniques.

jeudi 6 mai 2010

He who sings scares away his woes


Sing for your lover like blood from a stone
Sing for your lover who's waiting at home
If you sing when you're high
And you're dry as a bone
Then you must realise that you're never alone
And you'll sing with the dead instead


(c) ADOUR on dA

mardi 27 avril 2010

samedi 24 avril 2010

I'm born again with no life to lose

Je rentre d'un mois capricieux passé entre la France et l'Angleterre. Romain est parti. Mais tout ça, c'est bientôt fini. A Kingston, le temps fut (est) magnifique, alors on a passé notre temps dehors, à flâner à Richmond Park ou à faire du shopping. J'ai aussi pu faire visiter China Town, Soho, Oxford Circus et Notting Hill à Romain. On a aussi fait la Grande Roue, le fameux London Eye, et bien que clichée et très chère, c'est une expérience à vivre. C'était magnifique, surtout qu'on avait choisi la bonne horaire : le soleil se couchait, la nuit tombait sur Londres. Evidemment, on a aussi passé une grande partie de notre temps chez O'neill's. Si je pouvais emporter ce pub dans mon sac et le sortir quand bon me semble, je le ferai.
Une fois rentrée de l'aéroport, lui parti, moi encore ici, j'ai ouvert la porte de ma chambre pour en découvrir avec surprise les meubles et les murs tapissés de post-its verts, roses et jaunes. Romain les avait collés alors que je l'attendais au rez-de-chaussée. Des petits mots doux partout. Il y en a une quarantaine. Je vais les scotcher pour être sûre qu'ils ne tombent pas. Un petit aperçu :

I'm in love.
Hier, j'étais au concert de Black Rebel Motorcycle Club. Je n'ai pas envie de faire de compte-rendu détaillé, il serait ennuyeux à mourir. J'ai eu très peur au début car personne ne bougeait dans la fosse, alors que j'étais au premier rang... Mais dès que Berlin a retenti, plus personne ne s'est senti pisser si j'ose dire. Résultats physiques au lendemain du concert : un vingtaine de bleus, un poignet gonflé (bah oui j'ai essayé de tenir en place mais j'ai comme qui dirait voyagé sur deux mètres), 6 longues griffures non-identifiées sur le bras droit, un orteil taille Deluxe, et 3 ampoules. Good, good stuff. Mais j'ai mal. Robert Levon Been n'était certainement pas dans son était normal, à évacuer des ouragans de transpiration, et, et, et... A dégommer sa putain de belle basse après Spread Your Love. Je n'ose même pas imaginer à quel point il doit regretter son acte aujourd'hui. OK, c'est Rock 'n' Roll, mais ça coute cher, et on s'y attache aussi.
Quant à Leah Shapiro, je l'ai trouvée parfaite. Elle a juste la gueule de l'emploi, alors que, sincèrement, une fille chez BRMC, n'est pas idée évidente à imaginer.

Sinon j'espère sincèrement ne pas apparaitre sur leur DVD, ou je me tire une balle. Sauf s'ils retiennent juste le cliché que le photographe a fait de mes jambes (wtf), là c'est pas grave. Mais y'avait plein d'autres gens dans la queue alors pourquoi moi sérieux -_-

Là je suis partie pour un mois et demi de travail intense pour boucler mes dissertations et faire mon dossier master... Joy.