Drive

…Light after light, lights after lights, night after night, nights after nights,

Driving in the streets, in the dark, into the darkness of the night,

it was good, too good to be true,

love, love at first sight. But you lost sight.

How did you get there?

Driving fast, driving to a new destiny, no brakes, no turning back.

Keep it together son… Or you won’t make it.

Playing big boys. But those guys aren’t playing. Or they’ll kill you easy. It will be easy for them, just a game.

So keep it together son, think straight.

Take this hammer and finish them for good.

…Sweat. Sweating. Sweat before action.

Cold. Cold feet. Don’t freeze son, keep it together.

You’ve got that hammer. You’ve got balls.

Bad idea. Poor choices. Too late to go back.

…Now that is done, you’re on the run.

Run, run, run little boy, you’re just a kid, not like these guys.

How did we end up here?

For a girl, for sure, just a kiss, one kiss. That’s all you ever wanted, that’s all you got and will get.

Now you’re bleeding, blood coming from your stomach.

He didn’t see you coming. You didn’t see that knife.

No good, no way to run, no exit.

You’re finished, you’re done.

But you know that the girl and the little boy are safe.

Driving in the dark, into the darkness of the night, light after light, lights after lights, night after night, nights after nights.

Worth it. It was. Worth the kiss.

One way only. End of the road. End of the story.

 

 

Publicités

no time

nearly a year

nearly a year without writing, and still nothing to say

maybe I should stop

no more time

running after the time, running against it, running for your life… to spend the time you don’t have

a friend of mine has written a book where you can buy some time in exchange of money. If you’re rich, if you’re lucky enough, you’ll buy some time, and time after time you’ll become immortal. If you’re poor, you’ll sell what you have, and what else could you sell if not your life, so your time, your so precious time, precious for others, so you at the end of the day, you’ll have nothing, you’ll be nothing.

today, it’s the same, same story, but no science-fiction here. If you have money, you can buy plenty of time, use the services of others… if I need to go somewhere, I’ll just use Uber; if I need to clean up your place, i’ll just use a cleaning woman; if I need to eat, I’ll just go to the restaurant, and if I am bloody lazy, I’ll just order myself a pizza… Today, it’s all about buying services, so you don’t have to do stuff yourself. Someone, in exchange of money, will do it for you, will do everything for you. So you’re not dreaming, we are living the nightmare right now…

no time, so little time, even relationships, no time for love, just the time for a f***, the beauty of Tinder they call it, ‘zapping’, switching from a boy or girl to another one, no time for true love, better watch Netflix for a soap opera, binge-watching, blindness is so close

so this is it, so this is us, this is our generation, our destiny, or a fate should I say, here I am, spending a few minutes of my precious time to write something useless

but that’s ok. it’s worth it. And I’ll go to hell knowing that I have spent 5 minutes of my time wisely.

 

2002 vs 2017

il y a 15 ans, j avais 17 ans et pas le droit de vote, il y a 15 ans je n étais pas descendu dans la rue et j habitais loin de Paris, il y a 15 ans je n avais pas encore la nationalité française, il y a 15 ans j avais fait le cauchemar de Le Pen président… j avais peur, la boule au ventre, peur de devoir quitter la France avec ma mère alors qu’il s agissait de chez moi, de mon pays. Mon premier réflexe à 18 ans a été de demander la nationalité française pour voter, car le vote est un droit que je comptais bien user. Aujourd’hui, je suis triste, je suis français et je me sens français. N’en doutez pas, toutes les personnes comme moi, en France, avec des parents étrangers, des noms à consonance étrangère, avec des origines étrangères, ont peur… oui, on a peur, peur d être montrés du doigt, peur d être stigmatisés, peur de tout perdre… que cette peur soit rationnelle ou pas. La France m a tout donné. Je ne viens pas d une famille avec un capital économique, culturelle, sociale, qui me prédestinait à une position dans la société, je ne suis pas Causette non plus, je viens d une famille moyenne, j ai essentiellement bossé dur à l’école, à l’université, en entreprise encore aujourd’hui. Un jour, lors d’un déjeuner j’étais un tout jeune homme de 19 ans, j’ai dit que j’avais des origines italiennes, anglaises et singapouriennes, et que j’étais français et fier de l’être, un homme m’a dit que c’était du n’importe quoi et qu’on donnait la nationalité française à vraiment n’importe qui, j’ai voulu répondre mais on m’a dit de me taire… car il s’agissait de l’oncle de la bonne amie chez qui je séjournais. Je me souviendrais toute ma vie, alors que je suis blanc, alors que je suis européen par mes parents, de cette injustice à mon égard. je voulais dire au tonton que j’étais en prépa littéraire, que j’avais un amour viscéral de la langue français, que j’aimais écrire et que ma maîtrise de la langue était plus grande que la plupart des français. je voulais ajouter que dans la Rome Antique les soldats nés hors de Rome qui avaient fait preuve de la plus grande bravoure, de loyauté, des années durant, pouvaient bénéficier de la citoyenneté romaine, et c’est ce modèle qui avait fait de Rome une puissance inégalée par une armée méritocratique pour les citoyens romains et ceux aspirant à le devenir. Maintenant, vous avez le choix de vous taire et de laisser le soin à d’autres de s’exprimer. Maintenant, quel message voulez-vous donner à tous les étrangers et tous ceux avec des origines étrangères, quelle image voulez-vous donner de la France, quelle France voulez-vous. Mais ne tombez pas dans le piège d une France qui ne tend pas la main, d une France qui n a pas un destin universel, d une France coupée des Lumières et de son histoire millénaire. Moi je sais quelle France je veux.

White rabbit in the snow

he is watching the wall, a plain white wall, he seems concentrated… he seems somewhere else. he is standing there contemplating this plain white wall. it reminds him of her, she was beautiful, gorgeous, stunning in her red dress, not the vulgar type, it was sexy and elegant. he remembers her naked back, he remembers her lips, he remembers… he isn’t the average guy, he is impressive, he’s a giant, physically a beast, he is not used to hear ‘no’, he is used to be feared… he, the beast, was nervous, he hesitated a long time before approaching her. he, the beast, walked towards her, in a clumsy way. he was staring, staring, looking at nothing else than her, despite all the paintings. she was the manager of the art gallery, and he, the beast, was only interested in her, piece of art. she asked: ‘are you looking for something in particular?’ she showed him around and stopped in front of one painting. he was struck by its evidence. ‘white rabbit in the snow’ she said, ‘what do you see?’ ‘WHAT do i see… i feel sadness, so much sadness, so much loneliness.’ He remembered how sad and lonely he was, he remembered his anger, his trauma, his childhood, this childhood that made him the man he is. ‘i’ll take it’. he came back several times, she liked him while he was madly in love. she smiled. for the first time, he felt lively, living again. one day, he asked, HIM shy and such a big man, such a successful business man, so tough, so brutal with others, he was scared, afraid: ‘would you like to have dinner with me?’ ‘with pleasure’, she responded. he, the beast, encountered the beauty. he, for the first time of his life, cared about someone, he cared for the only one who mattered, he cared for her…

White rabbit in the snow
White rabbit in the snow

Le flou comme stratégie politique

Vous avez dit flou ? mon programme ? quel programme ?
Je ne pointe du doigt personne… malheureusement… la politique aujourd’hui a le goût du mirage…
Flou, si flou, qu’Alain Affleflou en perd ses lunettes.
Comme je le lisais dans un hebdomadaire de gaucho ‘frustrations’ (l’antithèse de ‘l’opinion’ si vous voulez, mais je lis TOUT) le recours aux figures de l’Histoire avec un ‘H’ est un bon moyen de nous flouer. Sarkozy citant Jaurès… tout va bien…
Quelle importance me direz-vous ? Le citoyen ne vote pas pour un programme, puisqu’il ne le lit pas… et d’ailleurs nos hommes politiques ne se sentent pas dans l’obligation de respecter le programme quand ils ont en un…
« les promesses électorales n’engagent que ceux qui y croient »
Je me souviens encore des cours d’Alain Blondy qui nous expliquait avec sa voix d’outre-tombe que la communication politique c’est l’encul*** sans vaseline… après réflexion, c’était pas complètement faux.
Le favori des sondages n’est autre que Macron qui présente son programme le 2 mars, à quelques semaines seulement de la présidentielle… pas pressé le gars d’En Marche!
 Et si vous vous souvenez, ce n’est pas si lointain, Hollande le (toujours) président de la République était vu comme le roi de la synthèse… la fameuse synthèse hollandienne… à comprendre la synthèse molle, car par essence vague, floue…
En fait si le flou est devenu une stratégie politique, c’est que le politique est perçu comme accessoire, c’est un accessoire de mode, une mode qui change tous les mois. Fini le temps des idéologies et des idéologues, c’est bien mieux (ah bon…) ! Fini les théories de Marx et consoeurs ! Maintenant place au pragmatisme ! Le pragmatisme (qui est une idéologie sachez-le par ailleurs) a ceci de pratique qu’il est adaptable, qu’il n’a pas vraiment besoin de fil rouge, de ligne d’horizon. On peut changer d’avis… d’ailleurs sauf les imbéciles ne changent pas d’avis, non ?
Voilà mes amis, à l’approche du grand vote électoral, n’oubliez pas ceci. On vous a floué… On vous dit n’importe quoi quand le discours s’y prête. Et pour diriger un pays, quoi de mieux que des concepts « bateaux », des mots « valises » qui peuvent tout et rien dire : mobilité, réussite, participation, co-construction…
Le parallèle avec le monde de l’entreprise est imparable, le flou ça passe (un temps), ça permet (un temps) d’entretenir l’illusion d’une vision…
Pour un pays, c’est quand même gros, non ?
Alors ne vous faites pas berner. Demandez des comptes ! ça veut dire quoi ça ? pourquoi ? pourquoi ? et pourquoi ?
Le questionnement, toujours… pour ne plus être pris pour des cons.
(ou achetez-vous des lunettes).
si vous ne voyez rien, c'est bien normal
si vous ne voyez rien, c’est bien normal

tabou

what s great with the word tabou is that it s a French word
you must say to yourself why a French word?
…well when you think of France, the first thing that occurs to you is the French revolution, the French kiss, the French cancan, Gainsbourg, Paris city of culture and history…
So why a French word?
Because France represents all the tabous: sex, French affair, freedom, yes freedom.
but in my opinion, no better country represents the word tabou, not because France offers so much freedom, but because France lives with a lot of tabous, of « non-dits » we say, that means a lot of the French culture is hidden.
Foreigners who lived in France for several years have understood this. France is a very very complicated country, a country that is lovely but has many hidden secrets, French people who have so much to offer, but they have many complexes, so tabou is really a French word.

i had the idea to write this when i watch a tv programme called TABOU, and the subject was islam in France.
What could be more tabou in France? maybe money?
what you need to understand is that France is a country who believes it is unique (and maybe it is, I am not judging), the people in France believe in strong values: France is a Republic following « liberté, égalité, fraternité » (freedom, equality, brotherhood), our daily lives are structured around those values, and this makes it very difficult when reality doesn t match those principles. I give you an example: the French education system reproduces many inequalities, this is true at every level, from primary school (kindergarten) to University, but we are not willing to change as Equality is at the center of the education system… and to change it, this is also admitting that this core value doesn t work. To change it, this will lead us maybe not to treat everyone equal to give more chance to succeed to a specific segment of the population.

what is crazy is that we will sometimes prefer to see reality fail instead of thinking outside the box… by not following our principles. Islam in France is a tabou subject because many politicians, citizens and intellectuals consider that we can t mention islam and the way of living of muslims in France, because this is against equality. We are not supposed to study a segment of the population based on religious criteria, because it hurts the ideal of equality. This is pure madness…

the tv programme showed that while a majority of muslims follow the law of the Republic and are integrated, a worrying and strong minority are willingly supporting a political vision of Islam against France, our values, our laws…
But for ideological reasons, the very Saint Equality, many prefer to close their eyes on what is really happening.
When we thought that our Republican values make us stronger against extremists, we are sadly seeing those same values, that made us proud one time ago, lead us to a dangerous blindness…

mate

mate
how are you mate?
(pronounce with an Australian accent)
let s try again
how are you mate
good on you mate
hey mate
don t say Australia but straya
here you are, back again, old memories
it s been 6 years now that i had the crazy idea to leave my family, my country,
my girlfriend, and travel 17000km away for a new life in Australia
was such a great experience, i can t regret it,
even if it wasn t always easy as you need to make new friends, new habits, new everything, but that what s makes it so interesting too, so no regrets
also no regrets, that after three years i decided to come back in my home country France,
i must say we decided to come back with
my wife
so it has been already three years that we took the decision to fly back in France
so much happened since
and i must say six years ago, i was kid, not that i m old, not that i look old, but i can feel that i ve aged a bit, in the good way, you know like French Bordeaux wine
sometimes i miss Australia, i miss the people i met, and they are so far away that i won t see them again or a least for a couple of years, i miss the sunshine (even if it s bloody dangerous and can get you sunburn and skin cancer), i miss the beaches, i miss the deep blue sky, a real navy blue, not the same blue that you can see in Europe, i miss the friendly interactions with people, the easy going way of life (even if as an arrogant Parisian, i often thought how superficial things were, but i still miss it), i miss the barbie (understand barbecue), i miss Sydney, such a great city, the Opera House so beautiful with the harbour view, i miss Surry Hills, Redfern, Bourke Street, the bakeries, the Sunday brunch, all this… seems so far away but still very present in my mind
i can t forget, but i will forget, and i ve already forgot a few things, but i won t forget the experience, the feeling of being abroad, the feeling of being a stranger in a country, strange but adventurous in the same time, i won t forget above all that i became what i am thanks to Australia and that today I am married to a superbe wife thanks to Australia too, and after being so far from my friends and from my family, i know the importance of being there with them, of being close, money can t buy you a family and true friends,
this is priceless
so AUSTRALIA, mate, you re a real mate,
TRUST ME, we ll come over when we re older to see you old mate!