oct.24 th . too late we're 25

TODAY . OCT 24 2006.

i should call it tonight. late again, and i do not feel like bedtime is coming soon. i decided to be a good boy and started to rewrite some, a lot actually of the load of letters to the beloved, it's written so small i am curved in front of the computer . wrong set-up, my back hurts. i wish i could lay down and read it all loud and it would be there on the computer . but see this is only the kind of luck you have little chance to get , and only once you are dead. the typical who's gonna find my life in stories, beautiful even when the words are wrong, because i had no one in my back spying me, there was plenty. people. no one ever truly understand how come you write no matter what ... to escape, to tell , to love, to disappear,, and so be it ... here i am .. talking like i was being interviewed on my work as a movie/slash/trash writer of my own foolish life ... but no matter how sad or low it will get , remember in the end i think i like the pain, i like the tears that went by ... i wanna take you dead or alive , a ghost left in flesh, but to me you can only be history ... because in every last moments, small they were .. un-pregnant. empty i see .... saw you .. i think i will ever love you .. but tonight i have no other choice but to say it . it's close to an end... of course i will always refuse to kill this endless child glowing innocence that will fall for you anytime, any days if you would just say it's o.k.
but i am filled with conscience, fucking clear it becomes when you grow older, sober, stronger . blase putana de madre ... i am telling you ... je pourrais delirer, delivrer comme la parole de mon coeur, de mon cul. tout mes fantasmes, i could screen them in long in large , but remember i am a lover , more romance y lacrimosa.. lamentations to the moon i shall show before i let go of my instincts .. mes plus bas instincts animal... sexual... ( with the 'u' pronounced loud and low )

home, sweet home.. sweet for real, all i have left as in term of food are chocolates, lots of them and red wine, that is all there is. and cigarettes until next week. i am half computer geek right now, downloading tango and pj harvey, writing my past .. it' s hard .. it has nothing to do like school work, i feel like i have to take all the emotions, from dusk t'll dawn, dark to light and find an order, find a sense. there is no end or beginning in real . only fragments of texts i wrote. they are all a bit the same if you generalize la chose, but it's more then that .. i am having stress pulsation just trying to imagine images enough intense, dense, beautiful even so sad to make people feel what i felt. it's not just an artsy fucking movie anymore.. c'est comme le film tout rapide de ma vie... this moment when love WAS lasted not more then 30 days .. and a year after i cannot explain truly all of it ... because i could choose at any minute to dye because this love is gone... the word is dead..and the feeling is lost because it suffocates alone. but i have to bring it alive one last time.... that's all i wanna do .. bring it alive and breathing love . fear no love .. in deep pain. scars of my love ... but no worries i'll remember to call the movie like it needs to be .. serenade .