a desire for serenity

Relax your face, you can already feel your mind is cleared, people don't watch you with pity, the will to share is in your attitude, and we can all be good to each others, by offering our present selves, with faith and trust.

beyond the horizon

It was an appeasing evening of a warm summer day. I was enjoying the blazing light beyond the horizon leaned on the edge of my balcony, almost daydreaming to the scenery like my wandering mind pushes me to. I was only wearing the down part of my pajamas, a bermuda shorts, simply happy to let the thick heated breeze twining around my naked torso, and feel the dirty dented floor beneath my bare feet.
I haven't noticed at first, so accustomed to be alone up there at this hour, but a girl had showed up on the contiguous balcony. I didn't know her. She threw me out of my reverie by a declicate but straight "Hello". All intimidated i was we started to talk. She herself too was wearing her night clothes, a pale colored shorts impudently underlining the base of her round buttocks, and a tight top of the same color with straps. Maybe because we were both revealing so much skin, caught by chance in intimate outfits that only very close people are supposed to see, we displayed no sign of uneasiness, and i haven't even thought about the indecency of the situation on the moment.
We talked until the sun hid completely behind the steeple afar, about many different subjects and we were at that point to disclose personal matters. She asked me about my age. The remaining light was playing on the sharp lines of my abdomen, the wind was messing up the curls of my hair, and my cheeks were prickly. I assessed she was a student, she could be twenty-one or twenty-two, maybe twenty-three, not much. I said : "i'm twenty-eight". Her eyes widened as her eyebrows lifted, marking horizontal wrinkles on her forehead, yet to be present with her inexpressive face, probably in a handful of years. She repeated struck by bewilderment : "you're twenty-eight", "you totally don't have the look of your age, i thought you were still a student".
I guess now that was a compliment, a way to say i was physically fine, but i replied at the time : "Oh that must be because of the skateboard you can see behind me, and the electric guitare you can hear sometimes when i play with my window open". I think we left to an incomprehension.

To be litterary this story should end here, but i want to point out how sometimes people can be so lost about the real meaning of others' words, and their self perception, that they search excuses for themselves, and sometimes don't accept the obvious.

( http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=yx0mxCQoEl0 )

I don't care about time, i have a sincere will to be there, i see absolutely no reason why i should forget.

shift

Driven back to my home at night we passed over a bridge, i watched the highway cutting under on my right, a gaz station at one side and a car dealer on the other, the two places diffusing powerful fancy lights with neons; in the middle the huge six tracks road was slithering in darkness, i could see a short iron barrier set on a line of grass running all along, separating the lanes in halves, i started imagining myself dawdling around the gaz pumps, then crossing the road, trampling the grass and jumping above the barrier, at this point i had an idea, there are two ways to picture and feel in my mind this event, i can see it like i'm omniscient and actually create a replica of me while i'm watching down, like if i was watching someone acting except it's my own self i see, from this point of view the senses aren't this much triggered, and then i can also imagine myself really down there, crossing the road toward the mass of light in front, feeling the softness of the ground under my soles and the coldness of the metal putting a hand on the parapet to jump above instead of only seeing me doing it, it's still a musing of me acting in that environment but with a subjective imagination, i think it depends on the personality of people to use one projection of themselves more than the other, we all have that ability but we are more inclined to use one than the other depending on our personality;

I thought, once aware of that i can use whichever i want when i want it, i tried to put myself in place of the driver of the car i was straped on, imagining what was the real sight on the road ahead he had or feel the slickness of the steering wheel on my palms and the curves of the seat on my back and thighs, putting myself really in his place and imagining what he was feeling with his senses, i continued experimenting on the other guy on the next seat, then a little farther on a shadowy sidewalk i noticed a couple kissing and huging tight, i experimented transposing myself in that scene too, feeling the wetness of the girl's mouth and the hand caressing the back;

The power of imagination is incredible but limited by the range of our experiences through life, everything from our birth and the first breath we took, i could imagine myself so real crossing the dark highway to the barrier because i know in reality what walking on concrete feels like, i can put myself at the wheel of a car in my imagination as i already drove one, but there are some things i never knew and those can only be created thanks to close, related events and known sensations, or descriptions we read by someone else, and are therefore a distorted copy of the real thing, of the real feelings, the more we experience with our senses the more powerful our imagination can be.

(the same way we can put ourselves in the mind of someone, but that will only be conjectures of the real thoughts by the person, and only our mind in someone else's body)

Some of you have the advantage to be a girl or to be "normally" beautiful, you can draw people close with your body thanks to the lust inside all of us; I, will work harder but i will get people with my wit and my caring, relations will last longer and will be so much more true to complete mutual acceptance and respect of individualities.

A green pasta delivery terrace, noises everywhere, yelling, thumping, loud insipid music.

-"I don't like people faking to be happy.", i say sullenly, spiting my bleak face at the swarming crowd, licked and shinny, walking in lines elbow to elbow.

-"But maybe they just aren't faking" my friend replies judiciously, passive on his chair.

-"Yeah! I'm just a jealous and fearful guy, i know!", i bark joyfully.

-"You're not a funny guy!"

I confirm :
-"No i'm not" thinking in myself :
"If only i could be proud of that!" Get a satisfaction of being the mood killer prick, but ironically i don't even enjoy to criticize gratuitously because i know too well the problem is me, not them.

(Back to my impregnable fort, alone in front of my computer, a song was shared with me, "i killed myself today", life punches me in the chest to let me know what i'm doing to others, damn, i used to love irony...)

On a midnight walk, i started collecting little silver hearts, all beaten up on the pavement, i reached my street, the dead end on the left, the bushes where the cats are lurking, then the familiar glass panel of the entrance, so often like a mechanical animal, here i had a vision, i stood closer than usual from the lock system of the main door, folding my arm to pass the card, before crossing the second door to the spiral staircase, i spun and went backwards, creating the dance of an incongruous whirlgig, looking attentively around, i climbed the white stairs on the longest way, a new way, close to the wall, following strictly the angles, the farthest to the center pole, on my floor i went pass my appartment to examine the end of the corridor, facing four identical dark wooden doors, unseen before, walking back i stopped to enjoy the new sight of that same boring place, and finally i came back to my room with a little satisfaction, a little impression i had lived a different life.

"Knowledge is when you learn something new every day, wisdom is when you let something go every day" Emerson(?)

("Letting go of hate, fear, and resentment. Wisdom is not a physical knowledge but rather a spiritual one. I would say knowing how to deal with people, understanding them, and being non-judgemental if possible is a step to wisdom. Letting go releases all hurt, so that peacefulness and wholeness can enter a cleared and calm mind." KBlue)

not a funny guy

slow to expose a thought

monotonous lives

low at a human level

but too personal

scarce in arrangements

sober in the posture

empty and enclosed

faded attitude

united as melancholy

watching trains without taking it

grey walls, grey sky

inside cries...

and repressed joys

laconic moves

to languid voices

trading or against

shy and sincere

rigid and bold

morbidly righteous

a waste in honnor

abruptly calm

inner tempest

like an Ozu movie




i like, i feel

untainted cult (unprovoked scene)

It happened in a rolling car,
her thighs were weighting on mine and we were almost lying backward,
entangled in a ninety degrees angle,
we were talking openly, trustfully,
like if we were friends for a long time before,
the day was cheerful and lukewarm,
she was wearing a top who made like a tight scarf on her chest,
flatening her breasts to small domes,
or hills,
or sand dunes,
i could guess the curvy and smooth skin behind that outline,
and i was watching frankly at the pointy buds on top of those hills,
naturally and following a silenced plea
i laid my forearms across,
creating a vice, a canyon to encompass the bulges,
slowly pressing and caressing only with my muscles,
she's not complaining,
she throws glances at what i'm doing, she watches me directly,
and we continue to talk, calmly, in that same strange position,
we accept each other,
i stiffened my palm as a gentle flesh leaf,
gathered my fingers like piano keys,
and as if i wanted to heal her body with my corporeal warmth,
i swung my hand over her breasts, her skin, changing the temperature,
close, so close that the crenellations were rubbing the tips,
drawing shivers all along the body that i could feel through her legs laid on mine, through the twitch of her own hand resting on my belly.

I'm only capable of imagining giving pleasure, as if all i wanted was giving pleasure only, to the detriment to receiving it, maybe because i don't know what it is to be desired, whereas i can picture myself completely focused on the other's pleasure, on the adoration of his body.


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because it's there, (true but irrational)

After i sat outside on the terrace, all panting, with pearls of sweat rolling down my temples, my hair curled by the wind, and feeling my blood pumping hard in my veins, warming my sore feet, he offered me a fresh can of coke to drink properly in a glass.
Between sips i talked the subject of my coming, quickly the words fell out my rosy lips on my blushing face, like i'm reading a paper without breathing, i pondered it all along the way, after the effort i put to get there, the two buses i took, the last one abandonning me far from my goal to my disaray, i had to walk, i rather ran as the thoughts were begining to overflow my head and i had to speak my torture.
I called twice at the start, i imposed, i said "i need".
At first rushing then watching up to the covered sky, i let myself calmed by the peacefullness of that honest neighborhood i was crossing, along a park of prolific grass then the maze of modest and carefully trimmed houses, full of entertainement devices.
Now i'm sitting in the back garden of one of them, on a white plastic chair, close to a pool i pleasantly swam in once, the light ochred tiles under my feet, the bright grainy walls, even the little wooden shack in a corner, all that setting appeased me, the only sound is the chirp of passing sparrows, and me speaking profusely, lashing my heart out, i felt heard and i say "thanks", that's what i needed, patch the wounds for some time, and it feels safe to share that trust when my dreams break down.

Any body can excite us, if we want to be excited, that's not what makes love or any feeling we can have toward someone, the real attachment comes with the bond and well being felt through the discovery of a personal reasoning, and all that makes the inner world of an individual, the feeling we are heard, respected and that we can be our true selves, watching a naked body, playing with it is only primal desire, it's impulsive and doesn't last once the act is satisfied, but that ability to love in any of us must find a receptacle in which it ripens, grows and evolves then comes back to us, and so then when we touch someone we know that deep, it's his complete being we see and feel.
Love can't be forced, it's accepted or rejected but can never be extinguished.

I'm in love (dream)

It's a zigaging suburb road, and i'm walking down that section, that is a common residential neighborhood, flat houses in pastel colors and neat gardens, perfectly pruned trees regularly planted along the sidewalk.
I'm following the turn down that slope, going nowhere on the left edge, i watch straight when my eyes meet hers, she was riding a fragile bicycle coming from the opposite side of the road, i recognize her, my heart jumps, and i notice she suddenly smiles at my sight, her visage lightens up, she stops on the curb and engages me to cross the street, i start to feel flutters in my belly, i'm so happy she recognized me too, that i greet her the french style, with a kiss on both cheeks. She's dressed in a lightly striped buttoned shirt with no sleeves and a faded brown skirt reaching under her knees, all in her seem bright and smooth to me, secretly i begin to aspire to be enbodied in that softness, i imagine myself going with her to wherever she was heading, walking side by side, so close that our dangling arms will touch, our hands gently bump.
We are both smiling and talking, i feel joyous, i move with happy feet, fleeting, there's such a potent complicity between us, like if we knew each other from the start of our lives, we are commenting everything and describing the important events for us, we are teasing, touching swiftly, impulsively, while laughing together at the thoughts we share, it's almost, is it flirting, it's the begining.
Feeling that momentum we put ourselves back to back, and grab each other hands, pressing tight, i feel her bones through our thin clothes, and the sweet cushion of her bum on the high up of my thighs, shivers all along my spine, i believe her electricity is conveyed to my body and inversely, i trust we both treasure that moment so much, we are still talking and giggling. Like playing an enticing game we hide, holding in that clumsy hug, behind a bus stop board, as if we were doing something indecent, and feeling excited that the people waiting could see us.

can the words of a man bring real love upon him
i feel like a fraud
my fingers are already shrinking and shriveling
i won't have other chances
i need to do something drastic
i should start by shaving my head
or directly jump out of my window