mardi 17 juin 2014

24. Miscellaneous 1

Miscellaneous 1

Since English is not my native tongue, I decided to publish two small texts, the first humoristic, the second more dramatic. I'm very sorry to not post enaugh stock for the 3 or 4 people who are following me, I'm using all my writing time to the purpose of the LARP I'm implicated in.

An Umbrella

If you ask me what I want for Christmas, my birthday or just to make me a gift, I would answer, without any hesitation, an umbrella, but not any kind of.

I would like the kind of umbrella you have to search a long time in many very classy boutiques. Preferably a black one, in any way something sober in the colours. I would like it to have a beautiful handle, with maybe a strange form like an animal, a distorted drop or an ancient design. This very handle should be of warm wood or from a shinny metal that would resist through time (and space). This kind of umbrella would be very strong, I would like it to carry on with me for ten years before I stop using it under non-exceptional circumstances, not because it is becoming weak of its old age, but because I like it so much that I don’t want to loose it.

I would like this umbrella so much, that I may move in Vancouver or London to be sure to always have a reason to carry it. I may also travel in Viet-Nam during the rainy season and all this, in the name of my umbrella and all this, with my fear of giant spiders (the kind we can actually find in Viet-Nam). In any city, while the sky is blue and the air is hot, I would use it as a can and think of myself as a gentleman. I would tell story to my children and grand-children of the adventures of this umbrella until one day my will of being burned with it will be fulfilled, alive or dead, it would not matter to us, me and my old umbrella, an old and strong umbrella with no name to continue to walk as a gentleman in every places my death will bring me.

I’m not serious on this, but still, if you give me an umbrella for my birthday, I’ll be happy as that one time my mother asked me what I would like fore Christmas and I joked about a radio-controlled helicopter.

I still really don’t know what to do with the helicopter. I guess I’ll find something soon.

I, He, then she, we.

I lost control again.
From what I am and want to be
To what I love and cherish
I lost control again
From my horror and envy
To the last as the first
I lost control again
From flesh and chemistry
To odours and looks
I lost control again
From hands and friends
To cheek and pride
He lost control again
From stupor and shock
To flight and silence
We lost control again
From love and friends
To fear and shock
She lost control again
From solitude and run
To run and solitude
I lost control again
From here
'Till tomorrow
I've lost control again
From sorrow and story
To sorry and history
I'll lost control again
From what's lost
To what's different
We'll lost control again?

Toujours là pour les commentaires


P.S. She Lost Control Again is a song by Ian Curtis, lead singer of Joy Division.