vox1969 @ 2005-12-23T07: 18:00
Today I turned 15 in my head and I decided to become a rock star. In my head because my birthday is only three months, but that's okay, anyway, 15 years is zero, no symbolism in there, but it's still better than 14, 14 is all rotten, I not like that number. I liked 12 and 13, 14 stinks, 15 a little less, I fear 16, I think I'm fine love 17 and 19, actually. I'll have to look at these stories one day numerology. The lottery, I'm sure to lose, "1 more day c'st one day less," we win every time, by cons.
You tell me, why would jump to 15 years live like that, no transitions, no candles, no gifts? Because a fad. At 14, can not be a bitch, a slut, a little whore, a groupie, and I think that's what I decided to be number one phase of my plan. But I will speak of the plan. Maybe I should put a capital letter: Plan. At 14 years, we have more beautiful breasts mom (in volume, not in numbers, at this level I'm in the most absolute normality), black hair between her thighs one day I shave, ceremoniously there is still the baby of her dad and her mom. Not that I have anything against my parents, spit in the face of his parents is for losers (loser ? loser? I heard that term today, I liked it right away, I do not know why, I will have information on that, but I feel like an affinity with that word, elective affinity, probably), my parents are very good, not boring and all, but here I'm tired of being the baby, even dressed in black I'm baby-grand-daughter, I want to build myself a great girl. It will ask for work, because I know I'm not a big girl, all around me bitches think they are women, but no matter how they grow, without a tutor, I'll show them what I'm made, a valuable timber, a smoldering fire, a bit delayed, no way I burns me like they trying to show up to their asses and suck cocks hurt when parents leave them with Kevin or any other idiot, France, if you want my ass and my mouth will require that you deserve, so thou dost, but later when I decided me.
Sorry if I'm getting mixed up, it seems they call it "stream of consciousness' in literature is not the chest that it would teach me, how fortunate to have a nice library not far from home - I have borrowed James Joyce's Ulysses, because when I asked them what they like Irish writer, that's what they responded mechanically, before changing his mind and tell me that no, it's probably too difficult for me - bastard, I'll shit in his mouth, I learned to read at four years and have never stopped since, poor job - so I've taken anyway, Mr. Joyce. They were right, it is still too difficult for me, but I felt that behind the line of words, one day, I passionately love this book - in short, the stream of consciousness was said to Joyce, and I think it goes to my writing, as I think I shall read it all later. Why Ireland for aileurs? Mom has a lot of U2 discs (the discs are stored separately from my parents, that's better, actually), and this video of Bono with his cup of football remained waving an Irish flag and it makes me want to go over there even though they are probably all alcoholics, like, I wonder what part of the world is not populated by alcoholics, may be here, less booze, rather then less than what I seen elsewhere, though I have not seen much of this elsewhere, not in real life anyway. I turn on the radio, was the hour when Rascal made his show on Radio FMR, always with the same piece as a generic one that is "Born to Lose", it means born to lose but it's also "born in Toulouse, phonetically, tip, pun, and yes, it is in Toulouse, well, that's probably why I like the word loser - definitely, loser, then, by dint of listening to the show on Wednesday afternoon or when I come home course earlier ... But where is what I have heard elsewhere, that word again? Probably at school. Yes, it was with the band mates to Crevard, a high school goths, he is terminal, from time to time I joined the troupe when they zonent in the yard of concrete crushing high school, just time to say hello and to exchange a few words, I do not want to give them the impression that I'm trying to m'incruster in the bat-clan (from the Latin planta, plant, the idiots of the Irish were not pronounce the damn cl ) - the coup, Crevard and her friends like me, then they love me better than this moron who has turned full goth look and tries to vampirize, remember to its name - in short, yes, it must be Crevard, or his girlfriend in the neck shaved, I heard someone a loser.
Should I find a little thread here, the factual, let us astray ..
Yeah, so today I decided to become a rockstar, because that's how I rather bele mouth, no extra kilo or not enough (the look anorexic, c ' is not my thing, the look half budin either), a very good taste in music (thank you Dad, thank you mom for making me listen to a lot of weird stuff that I hated in general and that made me want to discover even more), feel very strongly about my goals in life, and because I have absolute faith in the holy trinity, Sex, Drugs, Rock'n'oll, it's been watching it but then I'm sure. Sid Vicious is so beautiful in the few pictures I got on the web. Probably an asshole, but not serious. Sex, drugs, rock'n'roll. While sex is at the moment the complete nothingness, unless we only include the mastrurbation, but I must be too cerebral, I do not do much, even thinking of Sid Vicious. Or the hormones have not yet triggered the riot, despite my fifteen volunteers. For the drug, I'm in the process of documentation, it's exciting. Finally, rock'n'roll, this is the part I know best, I have already given passively, in any case, you have to start somewhere.
Sex, drugs, rock'n'roll, it sounds, that's what I want, and not as a sidekick in the circus, I want to be the center of the action, wherever it happens, darken in the pile, put your foot in it - and for that we will have I've been working seriously. A full time job, yes. But I want to die unhappy, no.
Fortunately I hate that damn TV and this goddamn sleep, it will take hours and hours and hours.
I have a plan. Very schematic, okay, but clear.
First phase: to my little whore, visually at least, it should be enough - it will suffice - and enter the inner circle of a group. Not just any kind, a real band, not a bunch of high school, which is a real band concerts and records. It should not be difficult, there is every street corner, and I'm sure they have nothing better to do than drool over the picture that I give them as food.
Once in place, phase two: they extract all the advice you can imagine, all the tricks, all the stuff. Make me indispensable. Having fingers everywhere.
Phase 3: learning to play an instrument or sing, we'll see, but a singer, it's a gimmick bitch, I am better behind an instrument. Then main thing is the pivot of all: start a band.
At that stage, if all goes well, my network is operational, perhaps I will know what kind of music I want to do, but in principle I think it does not matter. With a little luck and work on the image, I am a serious bomb will fall heads - not a good bomb. Anyway, I already feel that potentially, I am a real bomb, I see them put me ass and tits and mouth, these pigs and Piglet - Piglet much less than pigs and more sympathetic, but I ' 've already spotted a few, that too we'll see. I may well be a lesbian. I find it beautiful, latex and fishnet sluts you see on the internet I should be jealous of their plastic, but it would tend to attract me, this said I like watching the guys as well, not all, of course, my big thing for now is the kind Sid Vicious, and then long hair, I'd put my hand in a long hair boy, so yes, maybe I'm not completely dyke. But I'd like to play one for a doll in latex and fishnets. Something tells me it's easy.
Well, now it only remains for me to find the perfect (or not), the group that I'm going groupifanatiser until the butterfly comes out of the cocoon. Ideally, of course, that would I find a combo Toulouse (combo, I read it in the old Rock and Folk to my father, I do not know if it happens again but said it sounds good, combo, it feels a bit like gonzo). I'm a pro from the internet is not enough, important to see people in real life, even if it costs me. When I made my choice, it will be easy to make contact on the interface is direct, frank is, within close and obvious possible exchanges, not as an eye or a mouth that lies smiling saying the worst crap I have to still be too small to face the full force (the whip, it's me who handle it) the duplicity of the human race in vivo - while in-vitro of the computer writing, I immediately feel the blow-filled, the confusion, the unsaid. Even positive - it can be very positive non-words, all the silences are not hollow. All that I feel is the fabric I'm sewing myself, the fabric of the canvas, but the wire will be red or black.
Silences.
Besides myself I should leave more room for silence and innuendo ...
dico: Lose
The morning is a bit foggy, cold, I have my little leather satchel in hand, an antique that I foisted Daddy, pretty shredded, but stylistically, it's delicious slice in the middle of all of my fellow eastpak tipex below - and my glasses straight and well-black on my nose is straight and well spotted. Like almost every morning at this hour cete, Crevard is before the entrance to the school in toasting a cigarette, informs his bag at his feet, his eyes also informed that the bag in any case not very awake behind the curtain of black hair - Crevard is never quite topped, and his clothes were all rotten, when it's leather is also shredded my briefcase when it's black he turned wing-to-fly, but the class anyway, it looks like a villain in a spaghetti western, it lacks the big hat and a cigar to go with the fixity of his gaze and its port statue. He sees me walking down the street, a small sign on the corner of the face, he leans to kiss me when I'm at its height.
- Hi Violaine.
The tone is detached, almost mournful, it's part of its charm. This is one of the few not call me Vilaine nickname that I've never offended except once or twice at the end of kindergarten, because I always had the conviction that I'm not ugly and that others know, band Leaky jealous.
- Hi Remi ...
And I'm the only one not to call Crevard, when he always sported the nickname with pride, although I suspect it was not a personal choice at the outset. That's how I've always preferred to call people by their first name, where everyone plays to the tune of more user-friendly nicknames.
- what's new?
- bah, routine ...
Indeed, it is not downright evil, that group. Not very difficult to googling, is that Creamskaïa Netskaïa, may not have tons of homonyms - friendly name, first contact, both hot, syrupy, sensual, and cold, hi-tech, even harsh, the Russian side, no doubt, and then it sounds a chouille Clockwork Orange, my good Drougge ... Disappointment, the official site is relatively empty, nice, functional but not very friendly kind of living. A nice photo of Frost on the home page, the name in Gothic letters pink very whiz-trend, of course, on black background, a bio in English (and pink too) detailing the influences and references to me are mostly unknown , 4 mp3 from their only album, an email. No forum, no guestbook, no links, no more pictures, this is penguins are the internet (even emperor penguins) or they would clap ... I downloaded the first song while rereading bio, methodically, checking mentally to clarify certain points.
"Atomic Pussycat," from the album Tovaritchina, released in 2005 at Hips'n'Tits Records. Almost thirty seconds to transfer it in the nest of my hard drive, so it's a whole piece and not too dégueulassse as, well, I hate groups that are thirty seconds of a song with a sound voicemail, as if someone was going to fly. Double-click the icon magically appeared on my desk - that's where I sow the documents downloaded, it's my yard, a little messy, but I put everything that a regular train, stupid pictures received on MSN, listen to mp3s the texts to read or write, watch movies in an emergency, as many small images pecked like acne on the virtual mouth of Emily Strange, my background images very cliche, but I had a little fed up with Daria, and then she was a little too colorful, Daria, too much green. Atomic Pussycat, therefore, Winamp says it's 128kbps, starting a few quiet asez plies the kind of synth-elektronik-espaaaaaaaaaaaaace Supersonik and predictable entry (but sensational, like a columnist) a rhythmic Carée good, thick, beatbox and drums layered, heavy guitar riff for a light that reminds me once some old records of hard-rock candy, with hints of American cuts unlikely, all blond and more makeup than each other and that bitch is - also why it was good to go CD, the pictures are smaller than on vinyl, which gives a sinister reality to such individuals, just because tofs are larger. So glam riff-FM (someday I'll ask dad why Bowie's glam and Motley Crue too, am missing something), but fortunately, Creamskaïa have not had the bad taste to put in the hole kind of wink-wink that shrill guitar virtuosos of the 80s seemed to love as much as their mother. When the voice comes, my last concern has dissipated, I was afraid of yowling goret emasculated to Axl Rose, daddy tell me that Guns'n'Roses was good at the time, that this god type had the air con with his shorts and his cap, in short no, the singer Creamskaïa of fact rather sneer sung, very expressive, overtly sexual, he sings as if he played the devil in a set Z, a devil essyant to convince a poor girl sexy she must sign the contract he holds in the left hand, preferably with his blood but enough pussy juice. Her English accent is deplorable, a mixture of fantasy and American pronunciation of incompetence on some ponèmes - its so th are also Z - zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzze that one wonders if he does not express ... Possible, the text avoids the words invented and gross misconduct is rather good English to my ear good student, then the emphasis that may be voluntary. The lyrics are so cliché that they become fun - we're still in the Z - it's about a girl who set fire to him and that baby is going to make sparks to blow up the nuclear world. Yes it's funny, pretty cool, even lobo limit altogether. The chorus is more vicious ruler with the purposes of sentence as a whip, it fits well with the big bass, I like that, the big bass, it is a crack in my small speakers, a good sign ... In their biographical screed, of course they say they have created a unique style all their own, mixing various influences - not very original presentation as if the guy who invented this formula had been patented, now he would play golf with Bill Gates . To catch up, they cause film and literature. Clockwork Orange, of course, was a foregone conclusion, "the hallucinatory texts worthy of the pages of William Burroughs made beaver floods - not the first time i see this name, will look into that, but I doubt that the text of Atomic Pussycat, in any case is at the height of his most "raw" and More "Madness", here as it was quite worthy of a bad comic to Gen13/wildcats, the singer's thinking about girls boobs bigger than my head while writing this.
Well, the song is finished? Very nice, yes, I'm always afraid when a goth myself advising a group of hitting something like "I hate myself and the world is cold and I want to die, bitch," but that's good, nothing to see. Continued list of references: The Rocky Horror Picture Show, Dantec, Matrix, Dantec, Priscilla Queen of the Desert, the Manga, Sun Tzu, Tim Burton, a nice eclectic intrigue, not bad of stuff I like, just enough, and will manifest irony in mixing the records. Will that culminates in a final sentence of drawers, "Creamskaïa Netskaïa makes music for those who dream of driving a bomber on acid," it's so silly poseur that is necessarily second-degree ... DL the next song and return to the photo home, study a little history of their face.
They are four, apparently beautiful kids, but a tof, it greatly mistaken, more than an elephant. The center, a large dry scalp with Ray-Bans very deep-south and a T-Shirt boldly casting - I said dry, not thin, it's more the kind Iggy - story we see its full forearms tattooed from wrist to elbow, impossible to discern the details, but it's pretty, like Perhaps one day I'd tattoo Emily Strange, or why not daria if I re-likes, but in black and white. Pointed chin, hair very black and very smooth, well drawn in his boots pointy, it only lacks gloves vinylatex to go win a contest imitation of Trent Reznor in his heyday. Click
second piece, and consideration of a second musician - and one another are more massive than their respective predecessors. The song by its slow busy, it sounds like Black Sabbath added sequences electro, zicien by his thick shoulders and neck of a bulldog head topped with a nice brown spikes, a stroke of eyeliner to make more black eyes, it contrasts with his build. But face piece and refocus on the will to charm, one by a well-shaped mouth twisted into a grimace Agresion seductive, the other with a warm voice, punctuated slightly, telling I do not know what with a lot of Yeah inside. It's called Doctor Benway, the lyrics are rather inconsistent, He talks about baboons and surgeries and cans and nurses stupid, surrealism rather offset from your prophetic words like I played with Jim Morrison. Back on the ocular channel: T-Shirt Misfits, a group that I see cited more often, denim jacket with sleeves cut off, big bare arms, no visible tattoos but spiked bracelets, the kind of thing that gotho ridiculous on-black-metallers runt base with its new-rock and his dog collar, but there it goes, it is well cut, though, this type, something like raw wood.
While the song is resolved on a very primitive guitar solo, the kind of old solo years 60-70, I like it, my eye goes to the other two, but they are already forgotten, everything in the picture indicates that they are useless other than to provide their instruments behind whatever it is, and aside from that, negligible amounts. There are poses and faces like this that the replaceability stink, people who are just like the Laughing Cow in a picnic, but things necessary for such a bland banality we do not linger ever. Goodbye, you do not interest me, Mr. X Creamskaïa Netskaïa and Y, I will focus on A and B.
Two other songs to listen - "between your legs" and "Riding with fever" - eventually to put part of the band's music: heavy metal inspiration Daddy, enough melody to appeal to teenagers, enough for electronic sounds please everybody, enough second-degree, offset references and vocal acrobatics to please those who want or need to feel smart ... The trick seems stupid but wily though, and happily effective: love. And I love even more that I know they are tangible, accessible, short, not far, and recorded in my project.
At this stage, I could find, read some reviews, search for threads on forums, additional photos, find an entire album on the mule, but direct contact j'outlooke provided. Hello, I just find it awesome, and plus I was told that you were in my house, excellent, there are dates in the corner? And Doctor Benway, what's it about? I know you probably will not have time to respond, but at least you have a new fan, signed Violaine, with a nice signature block including the address of my blog and my MSN. Line pier, we'll see whether the fishing is good.
I think my first memories of music is listened to my daron Clash doing the dishes. I must have been four years and I gesticulated on Should I Stay Or Should I Go and Rock The Casbah in ouha-ouhatant happily refrains, I do not remember probably not if there had been no family camcorder to set those timeless moments on tape. At an age when most children are passionate about dinosaurs, that's how I fell into the pot. And there was no shortage of material to listen ... Between four and nine years, I had a great passion for the Clash, as my mother, and Elvis, but rather it was my father, I think I cried the day Joe Strummer died. It must be all that motivated me to learn English, this and that watching movies in original version my parents, I read the white subtitles, saying it would be better to understand, I'm just close now. Should I Stay Or Should I Go into the kitchen.
