VS#007 17/03/10
Blown Vitality
This VS will be a little special because my week was!
A chain of events and yesterday a hacking of the site,…
Let’s go!
I must repent by stringing together the WHYs as they come into my head:
Why repent?
Why the whys?
Why am I so complex without being complexed?
Why am I never happy?
Why does happiness look like a cigarette?
Why in my head does sodomy sound like poetry?
Why is the drug not legal?
Why vote?
Why borders?
Why thunder?
Why doesn’t the alcohol flow instead of my blood?
Why am I still in love with her?
Why does love sound like an echoing puke in my mouth?
Why do I love it?
Why did she love me?
Why did Claire bite me yesterday?
Why do I have his teeth marks on my thigh today?
Why was my first thought this morning for Claire?
Why is finding DMT so complicated?
Why hesitate between an aquarium of condoms and an aquarium of vodka?
Why is whisky unfaithful?
Why am I faithful?
Why do tears caress my cheeks?
Why can’t feelings find a place in me?
Why not run naked?
Why cannibalism?
Why do I want to eat pizza?
Why are my sunglasses on my nose when my blinds are closed?
Why humanity?
Why 2012?
Why films?
Why does my heart squeeze?
Why did you write these reasons in four minutes?
Today I am trying to understand why my best friend ended his life at the end of a rope.
I am also trying to understand why drugs are not legalized and my nose is blocked.
I thought I was a robot, a being that never shed a single tear, the insensitive and cold guy.
But everything in me is in turmoil, I don’t understand myself, and I don’t try.
This morning it wasn’t a loving hello that woke me up, it was a jerky sigh of fear and sadness
telling me « your aunt has been rushed to hospital with a brain haemorrhage ».
Why didn’t I have a human reflex?
Why didn’t I ask if it was okay?
For funerals I am sent as a reader because I never show any emotion, I remain unmoved.
But I want to fucking cry, and surrender, and hit with hate, and if possible kiss with love.
This may come from my approach to life and death, from my religious education, but here we have to start from afar.
My parents forced me to go to cathé from the age of 7, and from the age of 8 instead of listening religiously to the priest or the religion teacher I would run around the church so that God would see me and punish me for my bad behavior during lessons.
However, in the evening I didn’t fall asleep until 11 pm because I was praying, which is quite paradoxical. I think that’s where my insomnia comes from.
Then, when I was 12 years old, I left everything, religion had no place in my life, and two years ago I became a Jew, in order to…
Well now religion is over, I don’t want to hear about it anymore, child rapists and suicide bombers all the same.
My approach to death is now quite special, I don’t care about anything, dying is only the reward of life, it’s poetic and a certain beauty emerges from it, it must not be voluntarily provoked at the time.
Waiting for death is not dramatic, it is the most desired fate in the world!
And the most beautiful,…
David put his head in the rope and in a leap fucked up his life, and in the air swinging like a metronome beating the rhythm of the non-existent time and of our dying friendship, his last breath was lost in his 200 m² in Liverpool.
I still don’t understand his gesture, but it makes me smile because knowing David he had surely snorted half a kilometer of coke before and then he was doing big nihilistic deliriums, and for a long time he was telling me that after the campaign for the famous car company M,…(reum reum) he would kill himself.
It’s done, I hope he’s doing well where he is, because my only desire at the moment is to fuck a twenty year old nun.
Saut & Crash
Free Expression
Fuck, already an hour,
Still not broken in near lever,
To empty myself and throw up everything,
17 years old, ungrateful age,
I think I’m ugly, fat,
By dint of watching fashion Tv
And to leaf through
Magazines like Vogue Italia,
Oh sorry, to bother you,
But I just want to expose the truth,
On this world of crevasses,
Where we admire in ducks,
Written by assholes,
Photoshopped girls,
To the trafficked looks,
And with defects erased,
Erasure their face, come on,
Don’t mind me,
I will arrange to fly away,
And disappear from this illusion,
I was overwhelmed by discomfort,
Little bitchi, I have only one desire,
Lose the extra pounds I have,
170 cm for 41 Kilo,
I don’t know if you believe in weight,
But I believe in it,
I’d rather die, go away,
Than having to face my reflection,
In these mirrors,
Which add to my despair,
That touch that sinks me,
And lie down in this gaping hole,
Where I can leave you,
Like an abandoned bitch,
In a world where we worship,
To the dictatorship of Slavic beauty,
Where our icons snort rails
From several meters away in backstages,
Besides, the word fashion,
Is so close to the word fascist.
Quote from Big Box
-I swear, I’m going home after a day like that, I’m going to shoot myself.
the forty-year-old to the cashier at Monoprix
Ending Formula
David I miss you asshole,
Dirty queutard rest in peace,
I hope you fuck as much.
To you my aunt get out of this shit,
Quick, quick, my cousins need you!
Barrel roll, click, jack, PAN!