37 wrinkles

the conjonction of the moving into a new house and the boss going to canada to promote the new book about gilles villeneuve ? last night I dreamt about that girl I fell in love when I was 17, then I went to see her in montreal when I was 18 and she treated me like dirt (but in my dream it was funny because there were also some internet people I talked to but never met but they were like they are know). that was 20 years ago but in my dream she still looked like she was 17 and for a brief moment I felt the emotion of looking at her 17year old face filled with love and expectactions (that was before she treated me like dirt for you sickos)
when I woke up here and now I only felt a strange disorder of loss and... she must be 20 years older now. but the wrinkles on the face of the girl i've been living with for the last 13 years are the most touching path amongst all because they are part of my life and past and present an future. well... that is if everything goes according to plans. :/
if she could see me now my canadian love she'd probably think "hew, he's old and fat and bald and he's a loser" while every wrinkle on my beloved girlfriend's face is a secret i share with her. good or bad. life. a scar carved into your face. a story. a scar.

66 primitive

Primitive colors - CMYK - Cyan Magenta Yellow Black (K because black is not blue)
Primitive painters is the word we use for flemish painters
pale complexion ladies that solemnly look you into the eyes without a single spark of life, as to remind you that painting has nothing sacred but is just a tool to keep a memory of the loved one after they died, wich happened more often than nowadays.
you could write a book about the arnolfini's wedding.
several already were to describe how it invented the perspective as a window to the world, were the eye is the key element. an antropocentrist relation between the eye and the reality, the human as the center of the world, and of human as the center of art. no god. life and death. mostly death. cyan magenta yellow black. mostly black.

I defenetly let go the 20/20 square image to work in a wallpaper size, it forces me to be less narrative and more decorative. kind of shut up and make some art.
eh. time for a motogp DVD and a lasagna.


note the magenta screen on that one ...

65 fail

"-YES YOU MOVED
- NO I DIDN'T!!"
were the last words the famous Knife Sisters ever said to each others before they decided to put an end to the long lasting family tradition of knife throwing


- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

this will sound as a surprise coming from some one so much enclined to self pity, but I have got so much going on lately, failure is not an option and I cannot even forsee the possibility. time will tell
so far so good said the man falling from the window.

64 save

while packing things before moving out of this house I found a letter that said "write back to me, I still love you so much" and even tho there was a name under I'm not sure who it was.
sometimes I just need to stop saving datas, not let feelings add on top of another. sometimes I wish I had saved my whole feelings on DAT and suddently the new system would refuse to read yesterday's tape.

I'm a rock I'm a machine I'm a robot. short time memory datas only.

63 homage *edited*

Yawn. My head hurts.
awaken by a well known domestic migraine, I had plenty of time to think about who I could pay an homage to.
TAZIO NUVOLARI, the fastest man on earth. you google and learn something by yourself, but nuvolari began his racing career on a motorbike, his only reason to live was racing and winning. He drove his car around a track with the steering wheel off, drove throught the night of the mille miglia at 100mph (average, on moutain dirt roads) without his headlights on to surprise his competitors, another year his ferrari fell bit by bit but he kept flooring it until he had to sit on a bag of oranges after his seat broke down, he drove grand prix with fractured vertebreas, beat the german war machines on their race track with an older slower alfa romeo, although known to spend more time in the hospital than in his car, he just never gave up.



Mr. nine digited yankee, here's your first french lesson.
Alain Bashung has been around since 1979. He's one of the first singer that made french songs evolve from traditionnal to a more anglo-american flavored music.
I do not have any other records than his very first 45, but I just like his latest song, and it's a special private joke to someone I love whom I sent the first song last night, quote "you shouldn't leave me alone at night".
chais pas pas pas pas
dunononono
Un jour je t'aimerai moins,
one day I will love you less
jusqu'au jour où je ne t'aimerai plus..
untill one day I will not love you anymore
Un jour je sourierai moins,
one day I will smile less
jusqu'au jour où je ne sourierai plus...
untill one day I will smile no more
Un jour je parlerai moins,
one day I will speak less
jusqu'au jour où je ne parleras plus...
untill one day I will speak no more
Un jour, je courirai mois,
one day I will run less
jusqu'au jour où je ne courirai plus...
untill one day i will run no more
Hier on se regardait à peine, c'est à peine si l'on se penchait.
yesterday we hardly looked at each other, we hardly just leant
Aujourd'hui nos regards sont suspendus, résidents, résidents de la république.
today our stares are suspended, residents, residents of the replubic
où le rose à des reflets de bleu.
where pink has glints of blue

62 pet peeves

the constant anoying humming was less a threat to my sanity since I decided to work with ear plugs. but she had to spread fat all over my keyboard again.
if this freak of nature can't stop eating biscuits or can't wash her hands once in a while (like, say... once a day?) it was down to me to take some radical measures.. again.
why do I always have to do everything in this company ?!

I just can't stand to have a greasy keyboard and mouse.

one day, one day, I think...

61 heavy

MY FRIEND EVY

her name is Evy Load. kids can be so cruel. she lives in Manchester. Her dad died when she was 12. Her mom spends too much time at the pub and brings men home. She enjoy to listen to morrissey, the cardigans and has a few posters of robbie williams.
when she's home alone and bored, she reads Françoise Sagan in french even if she has to skip a word here and there. Sometimes she talks to her teddy bear, but never out loud. She has no room for anger, sadness already takes too much space.
she doesn't do sarcasm.