vox1969 @ 2005-05-21T00: 56:00
Briefs
tour (and other stuff spoiled)
Sports & Games foncedés (eve of z'éclectiques) The concert is long over, we must compete to be on the side of Nantes around 11 o'clock in the morning, running after everyone else on the site ... it made four or five times that I proposed C & I politely refused because it would be gluttony and that I should sleep in the truck. Of course, I end up falling on Perrine and Apricot, dealer-price-from-Euskadi, and I really do not say no, go, a little line to cap off the evening ... When it is so kindly offered
... Perrine (lovely little redhead, who has already exchanged one of my paintings four pretty blue pills cons RR now shelved in front of me in my tube guronzan, RR Rolls Royce?) aligns parallel on a CD case, after a while she noticed that by fint it fired four rails when we are five, she smiled mysteriously before releasing:
- the stuff that would be fun, it would be like musical chairs with the coke ...
- or we will makes the baston
... After some discussion on the problems of each septum (mine is diverted from birth, so that I always one nostril blocked, it is important to determine which rowenta before-the-life), the idea of musical chairs ended up taking a certain extent, and it promises to think again next time. Meanwhile, it's good, I feel like the lead-off sink, wow
were recovered throughout the world, I Speed at death, go to the children there is fluff, you're boring, t 'have taken the C or what? well yeah dude ... Go hop hop everyone in the truck pass me while I put your bags in the truck go-go-go-push-it-away we waited at the other end of the world what I am con, of c then it would sleep there it is there everyone go!
Obviously, there might be undaunted despite the fever, after an hour doing the internally ola (p'tain p'tain highway was there but if not oh but you're right but it is where ?), I end up collapsing on the floor of the truck, kiss the carpet, boy, for a few hours which is not like that very vaguely to sleep.
The Z'éclectiques the morning Eight o'clock in the morning, there is a band to return from chépers festoche (forcibly expelled by Lensers of exasperated), Don, t a lot clear enough (but not necessarily unique, in fact) to tackle the breakfast-at-will-international-class. Some tazés of fresh morning lucidity dry razor barely used, others much less, a stoned-organized squad and is needed around a table ... First hole in the sense when Gil, makeup and of course still black bezel, breaking an egg scooped buffet-international-class-a-will, exclaims, alone in the middle of a silent meditative:
- oh damn but it is hard, this egg! What
expected it exactly, and that had he done? it will forever remain a mystery.
PLAN PROPERTY MAY LOOSE MATINAL (always z'éclectiques morning)
Getting together at ten o'clock in the morning, reading an article about Jennifer Lopez in the newspaper to subscribers of Canal left on the shelf Hotel - on finding some kind of interest. Telltale sign of an intense cerebral Inactive ...
Anyway, after a certain stage, his eyes finally close to themselves, to signify that all this is an insult to the wondrous beauty of creation.
Ants (again and always z'éclectiques morning) Gil: "'Damn, I feel like ants climb over me ..."
Fatigue or not, this is a worrying sign.
Sunday, October 17, 2004
Monday, October 11, 2004
Car Towing Trailers Northern Ireland
Amalio
Probably the biggest crap you can do: let people die as if nothing had happened, out of pure cowardice by refusing to face the thing ...
Amalio was not really a friend, but a pal close enough so that we have made many Zique together (trance-rock-neo-prog-jazz-experimental-baba, under names as attractive as "Udeshi Burkhan" in the neo-tribal, or "Concierge Lama" in the style I-de-l'humour), prepared an exhibit in a DJC hallucinatory rotten, organized a meal shaman (only that, it would be an entire chapter, the buffalo stew with herbs and Mongolian traders came to the restaurant by chance), and some other crap ... Amalio Rodriguez's style, he did not understand why it made me laugh (I think he did not know Amalia Rodriguez but today is souveint Amalia Rodriguez?), I think he liked me, he was an excellent puree, AIDS has burst. I took a long
to understand that her HIV, in fact I must be the only one who did not (aware), I also post some thoughts on very sorry "we do not die from the flu" when He complained that he had to return home by bike and it was cold. True, he was cold. Anyway, I finally understand, without the need to focus too heavily. I thought it would not change much in my head, anyway I wanted. Until he was hospitalized, and when I eclipsed like shit. It fell in a crisis of "I nothing to fuck" with the rest of the "group" shaman-rock, good excuse for me to scroll ... I not even try to get news about his condition, what good, c That was long before the triple combination, then, is dying quickly and well.
Damn what am I wanted after. Remorse, regret, flash Amalio telling her good-new-years-years-in-letters-of-coke (you know, it's easier to stop the coconut that quit "), is complainant's view of some of his friends supposedly cool its gay couple getaway plagiarist (" but why is that the gene we kiss "), explaining laboriously choreographed smokers (dancer marital status, for real) ... The k7 where he recorded a" HIV has nabbed "that paralyzed me ... the shouting matches over Bowie, which I found too pop at the time (it was his god and I was not already converted), discussions on non-ontological abstraction of dance ("but wait Balinese dance is hyper-abstract "), his friends riv-riv (special mention to drummer who could play the rhumba that if he had a techno beat in the ears, but "Even light, eh, the boom-boom") ...
I dragged it like a long shot, I am treated to fuck, I was far below.
Learned much later qu'Amalio died almost three years after the time I thought it best to disappear from his life, and I had spent all that time to blame me for having let someone die alone while he was alive and actually being alone ... die
I think liked me.
Probably the biggest crap you can do: let people die as if nothing had happened, out of pure cowardice by refusing to face the thing ...
Amalio was not really a friend, but a pal close enough so that we have made many Zique together (trance-rock-neo-prog-jazz-experimental-baba, under names as attractive as "Udeshi Burkhan" in the neo-tribal, or "Concierge Lama" in the style I-de-l'humour), prepared an exhibit in a DJC hallucinatory rotten, organized a meal shaman (only that, it would be an entire chapter, the buffalo stew with herbs and Mongolian traders came to the restaurant by chance), and some other crap ... Amalio Rodriguez's style, he did not understand why it made me laugh (I think he did not know Amalia Rodriguez but today is souveint Amalia Rodriguez?), I think he liked me, he was an excellent puree, AIDS has burst. I took a long
to understand that her HIV, in fact I must be the only one who did not (aware), I also post some thoughts on very sorry "we do not die from the flu" when He complained that he had to return home by bike and it was cold. True, he was cold. Anyway, I finally understand, without the need to focus too heavily. I thought it would not change much in my head, anyway I wanted. Until he was hospitalized, and when I eclipsed like shit. It fell in a crisis of "I nothing to fuck" with the rest of the "group" shaman-rock, good excuse for me to scroll ... I not even try to get news about his condition, what good, c That was long before the triple combination, then, is dying quickly and well.
Damn what am I wanted after. Remorse, regret, flash Amalio telling her good-new-years-years-in-letters-of-coke (you know, it's easier to stop the coconut that quit "), is complainant's view of some of his friends supposedly cool its gay couple getaway plagiarist (" but why is that the gene we kiss "), explaining laboriously choreographed smokers (dancer marital status, for real) ... The k7 where he recorded a" HIV has nabbed "that paralyzed me ... the shouting matches over Bowie, which I found too pop at the time (it was his god and I was not already converted), discussions on non-ontological abstraction of dance ("but wait Balinese dance is hyper-abstract "), his friends riv-riv (special mention to drummer who could play the rhumba that if he had a techno beat in the ears, but "Even light, eh, the boom-boom") ...
I dragged it like a long shot, I am treated to fuck, I was far below.
Learned much later qu'Amalio died almost three years after the time I thought it best to disappear from his life, and I had spent all that time to blame me for having let someone die alone while he was alive and actually being alone ... die
I think liked me.
Sunday, October 10, 2004
How Does Suction Help
Another loser (Nicolas)
Evening in Yellow, a bar owned by one of many Mafia son the "patriarch" Engelmayer, I stroll a glass in hand to see if there is not the world I know ... From knowledge to knowledge, nothing decisive. Suddenly, I came across a ghost, not seen in a long time since high school, actually - Nicolas, who holds in one hand and a goblet of red in the other that of a young girl smiling .
Nicolas, 16, not very gifted student in a class mostly brilliant son of a high school teacher - rather small, a year early, often uncomfortable with friends who like him without really looking to understand.
Pretty little couple, they are smiling like lovebirds cartoon. I make him sign, it does not recognize me now (my long hair from school, turned into plastic-locks, and a few kilo less), and that's just if I do not fall into the arms ...
Must say that was very close to the time of weltschmertz disoriented, nightlife, stencil-on-the-walls-of-school, listening to tapes of intensive Stooges / Blue Oyster Cult / Virgin Prunes, we ' is even found to record some stuff so we improvised play did not know anything ... With and an old magneto-related Bontempi, something to pass Costes for a funny (in my memory anyway, but there is no trace, I can say what I want).
Nicolas, 17, alcohol / Teusch on the increase, tend to behave more nawak-stylee watered in the evenings, unhappiness. Runs like a glove with cold-waveux Reubeu make acquaintance in the dope. Gradually, insults all his friends without a pretext understandable, does more T-shirts with short sleeves.
I asked if Samir review, I said no, Samir has had to steer after stories with guys, you-see-it kind. Samir bin Mohammed, who put the Death In june thoroughly to piss off his neighbors, where Klaus Barbie, where Klaus Barbie, I will always remember the heads of students who landed with him and that he did discover it, " I swear, it's an Arab Nazi, "and when he brought the German Neubauten under the pretext that it was pure poetry, never managed to remember what song it was exactly, but it would Syncope been renamed to headquarters ...
Nicolas 18, does not touch with other misfits, and resembles increasingly physically and morally, to Helno of green Negresses.
We discuss things and others, it tells me two or three things that confirm the feedback I had the tom-tom areas (train, Croatia ...), while continuing arms over- in arm with which everything seems to be his girlfriend ... it is a pleasure to see him with somebody, damn it feels pleasure ...
Nicolas, 21, succeeds in being hit by a train while walking, while foncedé along a railway track. The driver was able to slow down, only six months in hospital. After a pitiful attempt to return to study, voluntary enlistment in the military, peacekeeper in Croatia. Why does he have taken? On the way, it is an unstable depressed, vaguely hérotox, much alcohol - in return is a wreck ..
After a while he realizes that he has not made me, laughed (a little nervously, he laughs Mouse cartoon) turns to her and said, showing it closed with his hand on the cup red-
About, Vincent, p'tain'm too rude, j'te presents ...
White.
White.
White. Smiling
chipped drowning in a half-laugh cut short.
- Uh ... Too bad, then you'll laugh ... You make me remember what's your name ...
And he laughed as if nothing had happened, looking as if it were normal, a laugh that abuts against a face suddenly became cold and gradually returns to a
(awkward silence) Total Plan
loose. Not seen since
Nicolas. But frankly, I prefer, although it's sad.
Evening in Yellow, a bar owned by one of many Mafia son the "patriarch" Engelmayer, I stroll a glass in hand to see if there is not the world I know ... From knowledge to knowledge, nothing decisive. Suddenly, I came across a ghost, not seen in a long time since high school, actually - Nicolas, who holds in one hand and a goblet of red in the other that of a young girl smiling .
Nicolas, 16, not very gifted student in a class mostly brilliant son of a high school teacher - rather small, a year early, often uncomfortable with friends who like him without really looking to understand.
Pretty little couple, they are smiling like lovebirds cartoon. I make him sign, it does not recognize me now (my long hair from school, turned into plastic-locks, and a few kilo less), and that's just if I do not fall into the arms ...
Must say that was very close to the time of weltschmertz disoriented, nightlife, stencil-on-the-walls-of-school, listening to tapes of intensive Stooges / Blue Oyster Cult / Virgin Prunes, we ' is even found to record some stuff so we improvised play did not know anything ... With and an old magneto-related Bontempi, something to pass Costes for a funny (in my memory anyway, but there is no trace, I can say what I want).
Nicolas, 17, alcohol / Teusch on the increase, tend to behave more nawak-stylee watered in the evenings, unhappiness. Runs like a glove with cold-waveux Reubeu make acquaintance in the dope. Gradually, insults all his friends without a pretext understandable, does more T-shirts with short sleeves.
I asked if Samir review, I said no, Samir has had to steer after stories with guys, you-see-it kind. Samir bin Mohammed, who put the Death In june thoroughly to piss off his neighbors, where Klaus Barbie, where Klaus Barbie, I will always remember the heads of students who landed with him and that he did discover it, " I swear, it's an Arab Nazi, "and when he brought the German Neubauten under the pretext that it was pure poetry, never managed to remember what song it was exactly, but it would Syncope been renamed to headquarters ...
Nicolas 18, does not touch with other misfits, and resembles increasingly physically and morally, to Helno of green Negresses.
We discuss things and others, it tells me two or three things that confirm the feedback I had the tom-tom areas (train, Croatia ...), while continuing arms over- in arm with which everything seems to be his girlfriend ... it is a pleasure to see him with somebody, damn it feels pleasure ...
Nicolas, 21, succeeds in being hit by a train while walking, while foncedé along a railway track. The driver was able to slow down, only six months in hospital. After a pitiful attempt to return to study, voluntary enlistment in the military, peacekeeper in Croatia. Why does he have taken? On the way, it is an unstable depressed, vaguely hérotox, much alcohol - in return is a wreck ..
After a while he realizes that he has not made me, laughed (a little nervously, he laughs Mouse cartoon) turns to her and said, showing it closed with his hand on the cup red-
About, Vincent, p'tain'm too rude, j'te presents ...
White.
White.
White. Smiling
chipped drowning in a half-laugh cut short.
- Uh ... Too bad, then you'll laugh ... You make me remember what's your name ...
And he laughed as if nothing had happened, looking as if it were normal, a laugh that abuts against a face suddenly became cold and gradually returns to a
(awkward silence) Total Plan
loose. Not seen since
Nicolas. But frankly, I prefer, although it's sad.
Saturday, October 9, 2004
Looking For Wooden Trash Bins For The Kitchen
Quentin Kung Fu
Quentin Kung Fu
Initially, everyone called him Quentin, logic is his first name. Then it became "Quentin No Evil" for certain (because the question "are you", he always answered consistently "pretty") and "Kung Fu" for other, more and more numerous. Funny how a simple nickname can synthesize the drift of an individual facing the world. Now, it's called "The Pylon," often because they do not even know he had a name one day.
Quentin is the guy who did not drink and did not smoke when he arrived in the big city. Now it catches up to everyone, not to say that was squarely over-the-top: consumption of Teusch sufficient to repay the debt of Mexico. Never mind the rest. Nothing extraordinary, but quantity XL. On a balanced psyche, it can go, except that Quentin, his thing is not to have a balanced psyche or life if only one-third normal, to meditate alone and do kung- East fu master. Ash has been falling slowly in autism stupefied, without understanding what was happening or be able to do much, what do you want to do when a friend goes with you, are edging into the couch like a stiff lying eyes and stays there stationary for hours, smiling a little now and then just moving the fingers to roll? Pilow Vox and attended the same kind of scenes, which passes with Quentin Teuch, the whole night to say a word every hour that passes if another asks' How are you? "He says, still on the same tone, day after day, "not bad", before re-enter inside ....
One day, Quentin became tej kung-fu: too violent, too stoned, too upset, he removed the jaw to a guy. It was a little surprised everybody, what if his usual Zen. As part rolling of firecrackers, it was about his only social activity, he was able to work extra hard on meditation. Well, it took thirty kilogram in recent years has not changed for ten years gabardine, goes every Friday and Saturday night in the same bar where he speaks to no one and stands beside a pillar, until closing, beer after beer, if someone asks, "are you". Is he really say shit in the glue, both where he slipped into the pad of hair babes in this house-birthday-two-days-sleeping-in-place and they took him out as they could, he has crossed into the wild with a gun what was hanging over the fireplace, the name of god, how fucking scared, do not speak to me again never again this type is how you end up cutting himself off from everyone.
Stare, lost to the world, no friends, never had a chick. The pylon.
Once, a gang of neusk went into the bar with their marcel marquis, a tattoo artist who's farts because it was decorated Jean-Paul Gaultier once. There were only Quentin alone at the bar for once. Quentin is the kind balèze to look ultra-hard, normal, look in the other world, then Touintouin, King of the needle, went to see it to drink, even the arms-stretched-to-Europe »are in when they get bored easy. Except that Quentin, he not want to be fuck when he looks behind the veil of Isis when he mug in the throat with two fingers, looks super-fixed and said articulating well, a weird tone schoolboy reciting a poem:
- It's Saturday night, I came alone to drink a beer, then I want them to let me drink my beer alone.
And his eyes are so cold and hard, his hand clenched so that the other answers "yes sir" and breaks with his clique, because this fucking bastard, he made them afraid.
It's like that, Quentin, since he has more friends, no life, nothing, just a raincoat, the same, always, he reteint black from time to time.
Quentin Kung Fu
Initially, everyone called him Quentin, logic is his first name. Then it became "Quentin No Evil" for certain (because the question "are you", he always answered consistently "pretty") and "Kung Fu" for other, more and more numerous. Funny how a simple nickname can synthesize the drift of an individual facing the world. Now, it's called "The Pylon," often because they do not even know he had a name one day.
Quentin is the guy who did not drink and did not smoke when he arrived in the big city. Now it catches up to everyone, not to say that was squarely over-the-top: consumption of Teusch sufficient to repay the debt of Mexico. Never mind the rest. Nothing extraordinary, but quantity XL. On a balanced psyche, it can go, except that Quentin, his thing is not to have a balanced psyche or life if only one-third normal, to meditate alone and do kung- East fu master. Ash has been falling slowly in autism stupefied, without understanding what was happening or be able to do much, what do you want to do when a friend goes with you, are edging into the couch like a stiff lying eyes and stays there stationary for hours, smiling a little now and then just moving the fingers to roll? Pilow Vox and attended the same kind of scenes, which passes with Quentin Teuch, the whole night to say a word every hour that passes if another asks' How are you? "He says, still on the same tone, day after day, "not bad", before re-enter inside ....
One day, Quentin became tej kung-fu: too violent, too stoned, too upset, he removed the jaw to a guy. It was a little surprised everybody, what if his usual Zen. As part rolling of firecrackers, it was about his only social activity, he was able to work extra hard on meditation. Well, it took thirty kilogram in recent years has not changed for ten years gabardine, goes every Friday and Saturday night in the same bar where he speaks to no one and stands beside a pillar, until closing, beer after beer, if someone asks, "are you". Is he really say shit in the glue, both where he slipped into the pad of hair babes in this house-birthday-two-days-sleeping-in-place and they took him out as they could, he has crossed into the wild with a gun what was hanging over the fireplace, the name of god, how fucking scared, do not speak to me again never again this type is how you end up cutting himself off from everyone.
Stare, lost to the world, no friends, never had a chick. The pylon.
Once, a gang of neusk went into the bar with their marcel marquis, a tattoo artist who's farts because it was decorated Jean-Paul Gaultier once. There were only Quentin alone at the bar for once. Quentin is the kind balèze to look ultra-hard, normal, look in the other world, then Touintouin, King of the needle, went to see it to drink, even the arms-stretched-to-Europe »are in when they get bored easy. Except that Quentin, he not want to be fuck when he looks behind the veil of Isis when he mug in the throat with two fingers, looks super-fixed and said articulating well, a weird tone schoolboy reciting a poem:
- It's Saturday night, I came alone to drink a beer, then I want them to let me drink my beer alone.
And his eyes are so cold and hard, his hand clenched so that the other answers "yes sir" and breaks with his clique, because this fucking bastard, he made them afraid.
It's like that, Quentin, since he has more friends, no life, nothing, just a raincoat, the same, always, he reteint black from time to time.
Headaches From Tampons
vox1969 @ 2005-05-21T15: 32:00
The Loose
Lose, lose status, being a scumbag, the kind that sits on the sidewalk, complaining that it has not helped and that life c 'is crap .. Should normally be spelled "lose" (from the verb To Lose, cf. Born To Lose, Loser ...), but the "graphisation Oral practice "(or vice versa, will know), popularized the spelling loose, looser, loose. (Sliding interesting from the standpoint of meaning, meaning Loose "released", "coward", wave ...)
The "Loose" is the state's loser, who is Born-To-Lose, whom he does Sometimes shit, acting like a turd, which collects large disappointment when he sees further muddles and small when it's low profile. State of fact, lifestyle.
The loser is usually enough time volunteer in his failures, with problems that take more than the act failed (loose) that bad luck, but never stops blaming a hostile universe kind of villain-with-him (in German text). There are also some unintended losers, who should all be successful, which empower and merdent anyway. Whose fault is it? Murphy's fault ... (See "Murphy's Law")
The loser is a loser is socially accepted ('what a loser, that is, "she said with a smile") is a real hardcore loser, the one which says it is pathetic , shabby or "crap". The first engender some sympathy (probably due to the fact that compared to them, you feel less self loser Similarly, or so some perverse attraction, if one is oneself or loser-loser wannabe), the latter, repulsion. Category
deluxe: the beautiful loser, who prefer beauty and shit like crashing a Boeing rather than live as reasonably everybody ... can lead others in his fall, or otherwise try to fall faster for protect. Do not make everyone laugh. Loose
Plan: plan that we know will end badly or indifferently. Close enough to "plan galley, with the difference that the plan galley was not foreseeable - While the plane loose, just announced it.
Square The Loose
Each city has its Place Of Loose. In Toulouse, it is up Belfort, Bayard area, near train station, with its half-smashed whores, bums and its marginal various ordnance more than each other at eight o'clock in the morning and all day, its punk dog undergoing total dereliction, micro-society of losers run, a ruthless cult of youth - the elderly have long understood that it was not a good stay there. Square Loose, there's always a few degrees warmer than normal (summer) or a little colder (in winter). Place the loose, if someone asks you a fag, you may give it less by compassion than by desire to finish. But instead of the loose, if you see a chick with vacant eyes to hitchhike in the middle of the street, you do not take her because you do not want to crap.
Law of Loose inverse proportional: the more a loser goes into the category "pathetic wreck of shit", unless he is aware of his condition. Unless he is conscious of things in general ...
The Loose
Lose, lose status, being a scumbag, the kind that sits on the sidewalk, complaining that it has not helped and that life c 'is crap .. Should normally be spelled "lose" (from the verb To Lose, cf. Born To Lose, Loser ...), but the "graphisation Oral practice "(or vice versa, will know), popularized the spelling loose, looser, loose. (Sliding interesting from the standpoint of meaning, meaning Loose "released", "coward", wave ...)
The "Loose" is the state's loser, who is Born-To-Lose, whom he does Sometimes shit, acting like a turd, which collects large disappointment when he sees further muddles and small when it's low profile. State of fact, lifestyle.
The loser is usually enough time volunteer in his failures, with problems that take more than the act failed (loose) that bad luck, but never stops blaming a hostile universe kind of villain-with-him (in German text). There are also some unintended losers, who should all be successful, which empower and merdent anyway. Whose fault is it? Murphy's fault ... (See "Murphy's Law")
The loser is a loser is socially accepted ('what a loser, that is, "she said with a smile") is a real hardcore loser, the one which says it is pathetic , shabby or "crap". The first engender some sympathy (probably due to the fact that compared to them, you feel less self loser Similarly, or so some perverse attraction, if one is oneself or loser-loser wannabe), the latter, repulsion. Category
deluxe: the beautiful loser, who prefer beauty and shit like crashing a Boeing rather than live as reasonably everybody ... can lead others in his fall, or otherwise try to fall faster for protect. Do not make everyone laugh. Loose
Plan: plan that we know will end badly or indifferently. Close enough to "plan galley, with the difference that the plan galley was not foreseeable - While the plane loose, just announced it.
Square The Loose
Each city has its Place Of Loose. In Toulouse, it is up Belfort, Bayard area, near train station, with its half-smashed whores, bums and its marginal various ordnance more than each other at eight o'clock in the morning and all day, its punk dog undergoing total dereliction, micro-society of losers run, a ruthless cult of youth - the elderly have long understood that it was not a good stay there. Square Loose, there's always a few degrees warmer than normal (summer) or a little colder (in winter). Place the loose, if someone asks you a fag, you may give it less by compassion than by desire to finish. But instead of the loose, if you see a chick with vacant eyes to hitchhike in the middle of the street, you do not take her because you do not want to crap.
Law of Loose inverse proportional: the more a loser goes into the category "pathetic wreck of shit", unless he is aware of his condition. Unless he is conscious of things in general ...
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