Et une soirée de fous rires à trouver les vidéos les plus atroces sur YT. Avec Gotainer cependant, on touche au sublime.
Au passage, je suis toujours traumatisée d’avoir vu le héro de mon adolescence, Michael Knight (et K2000) dans ce que j’ai d’abord cru être une parodie avant de m’effondrer atterrée quand j’ai compris que non, en chanteur, il se prend totalement au sérieux. La fin d’un mythe…
And that means meaningful conversations on how to deal with sorrow and how to love oneself. It’s sharing the lighthearted joy of dances even when we are hundreds of klicks apart. It’s also the music of a deep voice whispering foreign nonsense of which somehow the meaning is conveyed clearly, by some kind of telepathic magic…
The music is a mere rhythm now, players having given up one after the other from exhaustion. I feel my concentration fail, my muscles tremble. Our survival is at stake, as it is now each and every time. It should have been overwhelming but it doesn’t impress me anymore. The Shadow comes, threatening, unspeakable and unknown horrors hidden in its depths and the Dance makes it disappear like a bad dream in the morning light. Entering the Shadow produces strange effects. Disappearances, madness, deformities, death for the lucky ones. Each time it comes it is denser, wider and stays longer. By chance it only appears here, in the temple and at night. No one remembers a time it didn’t and it feels as though it’s always been with us. The Shadow, and the Dance that banishes it. Continuer la lecture de Dancing evil away
T’was long and ago, Best Beloved, in the time before time, before the cats changed to the little furry things that purr on your knees.
In that time, cats were wild and fierce and they really could live nine lives. They were so wild they could barely live within ten miles of one another. As you can guess Best Beloved, kittens were becoming scarce. One of them, by the name She-Of-The-Lashing-Claws, was a five-cat : she had lived a few of her lives already and only had five left. She had died the first time under the fangs of her mother, as was customary, as soon as she was weaned. It had toughened her and she had fought many battles against her kind but not so much that she wouldn’t see how few of them were left, without enough birth to replenish their numbers. Continuer la lecture de The five-cat or how cats tamed themselves
Now that I’m in better shape emotionally, I really want to have my own little family. So I keep looking for my « ideal mate » (you know, the prince charming we’ve been brain-washed with forever : they-had-many-children-and-lived-happily-everafter-prince ?) the one who’s gonna be a fantastic father and will also accept that I am everything but ordinary, conformist, monogamous, straight and so on. My favourite meeting place still is OKcupid -for all sorts of reasons I developed in a post that was unfortunately French only. Whatever the qualities of the site, you can still meet some not so nice guys, as you can see by this message I received after a few exchanges :
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More seriously, each time I learn more about you, I discover you have a passion for « inexact sciences ». I think you’re not very good at thinking. You say you’re an intellectual but the result of your thoughts doesn’t seem very coherent. Farewell. And good luck to anyone who’s gonna choose you as the mother of his children.
My first reaction was WTF ? Then I felt upset (who do you think you are ?) Then I wanted to thank him for sparing me his company. In the end, instead of trading insults, I decided to answer the form rather than the substance :
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Well, I wonder what I said to earn such an aggressive message ! You are entitled to your own opinion and to think I am not rational (that seems perfectly logical given we don’t take the same facts into account) but I don’t appreciate much being insulted without cause. If you don’t want to talk anymore you just have to say so, there’s no need to be unpleasant. Farewell to you too, I hope some day you’ll understand the value of taking more into account than « hard science » -they make your mind and your heart hard.
All this to say I’m rather proud of how I’m now capable handling this kind of event, emotions-wise as well as conversation-wise 🙂
La chevelure d’or brun de Mélusine, comme les feuilles, tombe. Il n’y a pas eu de cliquetis, ni d’ombre, pas de grincement, de craquement, de cri dans la nuit. Les ciseaux étaient d’argent et le soleil haut dans le ciel.
As the leaves fall, so does the golden brown hair of Mélusine. There was no creaking, no sneaking, no shadow nor cry in the dead of night. The scissors were silver and the sun high in the sky.
Voyons le bon côté : maintenant que mes cheveux ne me volent plus dans la figure, je vais enfin pouvoir utiliser mon stock de rouge à lèvre 🙂
On the bright side, now that hair won’t fly in my mouth anymore, I’ll get to use my stash of lipstick 😉
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Les sanglots longs
Blessent mon cœur
Et blême, quand
Je me souviens
Des jours anciens
Et je pleure
Et je m’en vais
Au vent mauvais
Pareil à la
Paul Verlaine, Poèmes saturniens
The morns are meeker than they were,
The nuts are getting brown;
The berry’s cheek is plumper,
The rose is out of town.
The maple wears a gayer scarf,
The field a scarlet gown.
Lest I should be old-fashioned,
I’ll put a trinket on.
by Emily Dickinson
Le livre !
La lettre !
A tous ceux et celles qui m’ont aimablement dit qu’elles voulaient bien une newsletter : les béotiennes (hein, c’est quoi cette bête là ?), les frileuses (ben, j’en reçois déjà plein…), les fadas (j’la veux, j’la veux !), les amies quoi !
Aux autres (oui, il y en a et j’vous parle plus, na), ceux qui découvrent (hein, quoi, ah bon, t’as un blog ?) : c’est pas trop tard, manifestez vous… Tout sur la Lettre, ici →