Jul 31, 2009

à la tombée du jour, au lever de la nuit, la cuisine sent le lac, invisible pourtant derrière les rangées d'immeubles.

c'est marrant, lever de la nuit, ça se dit pas, jamais. alors que tombée du jour et tombée de la nuit signifient exactement le même moment. champ et contrechamp, pour ainsi dire. belotte et rebelotte, on ne prête qu'aux riches.

Jul 30, 2009

Toucher ceux qui se croient intouchables. Suivant les cas,
pour leur faire la peau,
ou pour leur mettre la main à l'entrejambe du coeur.
009 2:31 pm

I’ve always felt it easier to lie in a 2nd language than in one’s own native tongue. Somehow, you just don’t feel the words (and hence the nastiness of the lie) the same way.

— jdmarino

says a commentator of a most beautiful article on words-not-quite-as-usual.

Jul 29, 2009

so hungry for nonsense, she goes into the world. You'll find it everywhere, they say. She does. But the nonsense she finds always turns out to be someone's hidden agenda, or mere distraction (when she is lucky).
And she wants it pure. She wants it like water, like the only sense her life can possibly ever have.

Jul 27, 2009


"não faço amor com fantasmas"
frase roubada de uma página net. Já extinta, como não podia deixar de ser.

mas eu sim

Jul 25, 2009

it's always about windows

bon ben hop

début du compte à rebours:
ici, un mois sans moi hahaha.
zeroglotte dit adieu le personnel, fini l'intime (et sa foule d'hétéronymes).
jusqu'au 25 août donc ici ça parlera de tout sauf.

ça va ouiner.

(rajouton pour périgourdine pâle:
ouiner = péter barder sauter)

Jul 24, 2009

allo sigmund

j'ai rêvé de nano-tampons développés par la NASA.

divorce 2

I needed company. So I went for a drink. On my way, I heard somebody call my name from outside a café. I was only too glad to stop. It was two people i very seldom see, but how well do you need to know somebody to have a beer with them and talk the working blues away?
A beer calls a beer calls a beer and we ended up having dinner. They had divorced a year ago, and had just met here by chance. Walking a tightrope between the two of them, is what I really spent the evening at.
I couldn't help trying to guess who'd left whom. To no avail. Much unfinished desires, everyday hurt and plain longing got hurled at full strength from both sides.
Then the scientist screamed to her artist ex: Go to work instead of whimpering! Just go to work! ( Yes, beer had called wine too.)
That's when I stood up and went away. See, I choose my working hours too. That's even part of where the working blues come from.
Failure can take you the same long hours as success.

Jul 22, 2009

eu que não falo

arrependo me tanto de naquela noite ter falado.

old flames, eternal waters

He comes in, a bit shamefaced. He needs help with a translation, and he is late. Emilia smiles, she's happy to see him, all about him so open and honest.
They get to work, there won't be enough time to finish, so they're trying to go as fast as they can, as far as they can.
His writing is awfully complicated. A thicket of details makes it impossible to wander in, and he insists on keeping them all. And then he's dyslexic as hell. She loves the inventiveness of his language, but it doesn't make it easier to understand.
This is not the first time they sit together over his work. She has accepted to help him in full knowledge of what was coming. All the same, she takes a deep breath.
And plunges. She argues, comments, simplifies, follows his will with the ease of habit.
But no. Not the ease of habit. This is new. All of a sudden, the warm relief of not feeling responsible anymore overwhelms her. She used to fight, desesperately wanting to make his words accessible to strangers.
Now she just tries to do it as he wants it. Just translates his particular twist of mind.
For a long time, years ago, they were a couple.

Jul 21, 2009

mit der Zeit ist etwas los. sie verläuft zu schnell und stossweise.

Jul 20, 2009

garden of stupidity

Rose il est ce jardin. Comme dans aurore aux doigts de rose, pas comme dans jardin de roses. Un début, pas une floraison.
Est-il frais? Il n'y a de jardin que frais.
Dans une ville poussiéreuse une femme cherche où s'asseoir pour manger son sandwich de midi.
Sa grand-mère lui a appris à ne jamais manger en marchant. Le corps se nourrit à l'arrêt, tout le reste s'attrape au vol.
La femme pousse le portail d'un parc fermé en cas de tempête. Il grince, elle entre, il fait chaud. La rangée de bancs ombragés est occupée, elle a faim, elle hésite.
D'un regard une dame couverte d'enfants lui indique un sentier qui disparaît dans une futaie.
La femme suit le regard et le sentier.
Sous les arbres, le soleil se réduit à un urticaire de lumière. Ça sent l'humide et le fertile, rien que ça, et les yeux de la femme respirent tout de suite mieux.
Mais pour s'asseoir, pas de banc, tintin. Pas un caillou pas une souche.

La minuscule clairière ne mérite ce nom que parce que le soleil au zénith la dessine bien claire et ronde.
Enfin la femme peut s'asseoir, dans l'herbe. Elle s'adosse au tronc d'un bouleau, les jambes tendues dans le cercle de lumière, si exigu que ses orteils touchent l'ombre de l'autre côté.
Elle soupire.
Son sandwich est à l'andouillette.

Jul 19, 2009

nightly insect invasion

last year, i dwelled by another river, and the ants got their wings one week earlier.

delete project

out into the irresponsible freedom of ignorance she steps.
how long will it make her happy?
not so long i guess.

Jul 17, 2009

souris, l'aventure continue

je fais quoi, moi?
la nuit passée, elle est venue me grignoter les pieds pendant que paisiblement je travaillais!

Jul 16, 2009

allegretto

Du? Aber wo bist Du denn die ganze Zeit gewesen? ich hatte's aufgegeben, so lang ist's her.
Wenn ich ehrlich bin... wie heisst Du schon wieder?
Das wie uns auf die Kreuzung treffen hat keinen tieferen Sinn, nein. Ich wohn hier um die Ecke. Und Du?
Was, Du weisst, dass ich hier wohne?
Also doch, ein tieferen Sinn.
Was für welcher?
Du brauchst mein Auto.
Ich hab aber kein Auto. Etwas ist Dir schief gelaufen. Krumm, könnt ich auch sagen.
Wie leuchtend Du wütend bist, wie schön. Ich kann Dir nicht helfen. Leider, oder auch nicht. Der Schlüssel vom Fahrradschloss kann ich Dir natürlich geben, ja.
Willst Du ihn?
Ich wohne um die Ecke und Du leuchtest.
Kurze Freude ist so ewig.

Jul 15, 2009

getting up

Arturo T. Fleming looking down at Arturo A. Fleming. To his despair, their mother never believed in any order other then entropical.

Jul 13, 2009

how the mother of all naps made me doubt the virtues of fiction

(sunday post on monday morning smiles so lazy it's enraging)

Jul 11, 2009

be a clown, be a clown, be a clown!

that's the advice of the Pirate's mother, in the way of a career choice.
The Pirate is Minelli's. ( Emilia danced all the way home from the cinemateca.)
Why didn't Emilia's mother tell her? Or anybody else for that matter? Caramba! She'd have settled for a set of light feet, 't would have been enough. Anything, but this serious stewpid weight always, the life, you know, the truth, you know, the pain in spain so vain.
Took her ages to even guess, and more ages to shed half the dead luggage. Now she dances crooked, and mostly in her kitchen, but dance she does.

Jul 10, 2009

cair

(uma tentativa)

les grands moyens

Mes souris semblent parfaitement immunes aux poisons immondes et roses censés leur liquéfier l'intérieur. Ce qui me rassérène et me désespère.
Bien fait. On ne devrait vouloir liquéfier l'intérieur que de ceux qu'on aime, et pas forcément de cette façon.

Jul 7, 2009

red briefs

wherever you fall

Jul 5, 2009

pitié 1

a desenhar no barulho bom do churrasquinho dos vizinhos.
later i'll speak of exhaustion, of exhausted bodies, and the strength of those who carry them.
later but not much later, before the images fade
(but he prefers to speak of tiredness)

Jul 3, 2009

jerusalem

éramos. a luz muda e somos outros.
ela, agora, é uma mulhar deitada na poça do seu cabelo.
ele, é o corte das calças que lhe dá sentido.
une seule question, deux.
où sont mes yeux et que regardent-ils?
et ceux des autres?

lendemain: ou ce qu'il advient d'avoir rencontré Manuel au chinois, qui boit encore comme on buvait tous il y a dix ans. Manuel, pas le chinois.

Jul 1, 2009

in between pledge and plea

2 consecutive days with zero visitors. If this continues up to when i open my computer on July 3, i'll close down.
down down down

afugentar pombos - infalível!

Disseram-me: pombos têem um medo atávico à cobras, qualquer vulto serpenteante chega para afugentá-los. Um resto de barro, alguma tinta preta, e à noite já estavam duas lindas cobras a dormitar no parapeito da varanda. Fui de viagem na manhã seguinte, não deu para avariguar a eficâcia do estratagema.
Voltei curiosa de saber. Não tinha contado com dilúvios.

Assim as reencontrei, as minhas serpentes. Desfeitas, diluídas, de volta à sua origem de terra vermelha.
E já que falo de reencontros: voltou-me às mãos a máquina fotográfica que tinha esquecido há mais de um ano nas portinholas de segurança dum aeroporto. Lá dentro, isto: e eu sem me lembrar donde é que isto vem.



Deve ser o filme que o entomologista Alfred Monard trouxe da sua expedição em Angola em 1932, guardado no Arquivo audiovisual da Biblioteca de La Chaux-de-Fonds.