montreal... alive.

''didn't know what to do, then there was you ..''you told me about this one and only tattoo you would wear , resistance. strong woman. crazy for what she believes in.. but i know she believe strong. i have ( need ) indeed to be true when i lay ink on the paper. i also speak through my eyes, but glasses makes it hard to see. or maybe it's loud itself in a bar like this... watching drag queens and karaoke, i drink beer like water, it's all new for a scotch lover ...
i am back home late , rewriting the words i had left on peices of papers but now , i feel like writing in between the lines... we met , once before, you are calm in a way that could explode , in a sharp way.. easy to talk . but tonight , i stopped when i realize.
i don't think i could. resist you . there were , your eyes, semi-closed sometimes et ses lignes si definies e votre visage ... lips... insane .. my eyes were open but it's like to remember a dream . a dream in a crowded bar. i wanna see you in a room where all you can ear is piano, the mouths open of strangers , moving lips but no sounds , only yours i can see. listen. someone's hands dense on the piano keys. and i would get back to scotch... tonight i had to look somewhere else , by sight .lightly. unless i would have gotten hypnoized like a fool by your eyes, eating me. could it taste sugar if you'd see.


i know it's hard sometimes to believe one can write . with no fear of how deep down i can crawl to feel . inside. my guts and mind. .. your words were ink and sweet sounds in my ears, ''please call me '' . i will . you know i will, before you do , maybe , that's an easy move. movements.

home, still. letter to myself. cigarettes and i had to open a bottle of wine, it's 3;30 i am wide awake , i'd rather write non-sense, then to fall for the drugs, it's a sober night , well some people like to create all as a drug, so yeah i am drinking but water could be worst for my health right now... trust me . it's hilarious my dad's girlfriend smokes weed and ash and she told me she finds drinking people looks older, in their face, expressions, like rusty body .. but i like old, and her mind his more crooked then any drunken i've known....
–adjective
1. not straight; bending; curved: a crooked path.
2. askew; awry: The picture on the wall seems to be crooked.
3. deformed: a man with a crooked back.
4. not straightforward; dishonest.
5. bent and often raised or moved to one side, as a finger or neck.
6. (of a coin) polygonal: a crooked sixpence

i fucking love the dictionary... see i am aware of knowledge... like a true studious boy . right now i wish i could shut off my mind and go to bed. but you have to spare time, and i'd rather spare words then spare change as in loosing my money ... seriously everytime i manage to hold myself sober, away from snakes and drugs , i should buy myself a present on the day after. tonight i rode a cab back home because i can afford it. and tomorrow i am going o rescue my guitar from the pawnshop , and then i can even buy myself a coffee and a new tire for my bike, all that easy , it's money lost , but better then money burned.
i will soon even give lots of con to one ( two ) of my good friends because money drama are the worst .. trust again i know what i am talking about . i am good at spending money , but thank god i am also really good at making some .. it's all a perfect circl, can be viscious if you go back spirals , but if you can keep the balance then it's easy to live . live. and forget you know how to destroy. forget.
but wait t'll you have to forget the most quick efficient side of you .. i have two. i can love t'll death ...... and i can hurt myself way better then anyone does.
it's true peole think that life is hard and painful, life should be like mr.Miller says so ;'' the aim of life is to live, to live means to be aware, joyously,drunkenly,divinely aware.. '' all that , life can be boring and redondant, an everyday that comes back in every way , but still the same, quiet even, but it is.. i am learning to manage those annoying dense's slow days, they appear to you the more you grow up, i didn't believe so but no i breathe into it. and i am quite calm, you learn fast how to look back from the inside dreams you've kept preciously.

those precious things. tonight i tought about it twice , love, it's a feeling, it's more then what most people think it is. but i told gently to myself that i should think of romance indeed, like first time you call someone out, and all the nervously good that comes with it, it's worth being alive. aware. i think i might follow my instinct, we are all good at making friends for a night, social birds, i want more... winter is about to knock it hard so i'd rather become a wolf then a little birds, worst a butterfly, fuck that shit ! if truly you could see me you would understand, i don't carry the same kind of feather a bird grow.. i am a hunter .

truth is i have to be scared....

letter to myself, the immortal junkie have changed.... in a good flakie way... i remember in the past it took me a whole lotta nights druged on by anything, i went through insane phase my whole life... times where white nights in a row, ith school, work, frends and somekind of family on top of it ... then i moved to Montreal, discovered i could play adult ( smile ) and get smashed in my appartment incognito... i have had the worst reputation, no wonder how i had to keep it quiet .. once i o.d. on heroin, it was my second life time, and two days later the whole community arround me had putted a junky signs on top of my head... they start to worry when they hear about your death, that sometimes how it goes.. but i get to usually worry before i even tell people...3 years ago i use to be a rock addict , to the core... i could write for days on how hell i have lived, but i ain't give a shit about dpressing my self with hell of a good melo-dramatico segment of my life ... the past is over ... but never forgotten ... you are most vulnerable if ever you see it , sometimes i do understand these people that quit drugs and quit every single things or people related to it ... i won't , will never , it's a big part of my life , and for most of it i have no regrets.. except this one..... this one hell i tasted for so long , ell why , sour taste, because you are empty , if a drug takes my hands away from writing or my words away from talking non-sense, then this drug is obviously not good for me .... point ... the money is an issue .. i am punishing myself the good way by sticking to my original plan to go to Toronto even with no money , a lesson .. it might indeed be good , to relearn i can , use to survive .. way better then my own little lazy self .. i work my ass all week to burn in smoke he fruits of my fucking labor , that's bullshit .. that's dishonesty, unloyalty, un-AWARyness to my own self.. and i need no one to tell me whether it's good or bad or fine if i don't do it again ... i am the ONe to feel here .. no mater how many stereotype there is , i try my best to fight against them , and i ned no one to pull that shit on me ..

so tonight , early night cuz i got to be a good boy , and go to bed.. ( but my hands move too fast ) i left my home alone to go pick up a bit of money somewhere , not actually for food , but probably for some good old scotc-whyskey in toronto.... but finally i decided to let go ... cry baby cry , they say it's good for you.. i had to tell someone of my sin and i did chose the god someone, because she ain't no fucking NA, no she is this charming woman i know, a pirate and a grande dame, the kind of friend that tells you it's o.k. to be a fuck up, t do fuk top, and to redeem o fuck me up !!! we talked of th epast , th enow, and this NEED of tomorrows... i know i need them , but to need them is also to be aware of them... aware, joyously,drunkenly,divinely aware ( the aim of life is to live .. henry miller )

and i am not aware when i miss the food and water my body and brain need for a living, it pays a whole fuckalot to have them , so indeed they request respect an dcare ... c.a.r.e. .. it's the word of today ..
and i am at this fragment of my life where i need care , cuz agai i like to blame it all on my mid-20's crisis, but i need to be carfull about tomorrows, and good sweet morrow i will smell the coffee in less then 9 hours away from now i choose to awaken for a journey i have been dreaming off for a whil,, and yesmy body will be tired becaus eit havn't slept at all last night ... but there will always be time to rest , and right now i am feeling my head aches a little still, but my soul as taken a rest for tnight ... i could put weights of all th ebad and th eugly onto my shoulders, but my aunt always told me i put to much anyway for nothing , i don't have too... tonight i will listen to her before listening to my past or future.. or n.o.w. .. i willl only listen to her faded voice in my memory , try to imagine even what could my mother have possibly told me when i was a kid so i go to bed a little early ...

sweet dream shawnda, sweet dream faby , and hopefully l met you mother along the nights to come, if i feel in the ocean red ...

snakes...

i think i have only few minutes to write , so i shall use them good... the devil is a snake... i wish someone else could explain that to me, but who th efuck ever respond on the net... like i said before it's a conversation to myself..... so both the angels and the snakes are part of me.... as much of an angel i can be , you don't really burn down the snakes.. and it makes actual sense.... devil's related to fire... try motherfucker to burn down the fire... good luck...and good hopes .... but i have a part insane inside me,, it's a gift i cannot , and will never deny , from my mother , the ocean inside... but in the city i live in, it's hard and a constant struggle to make an ocean alive in a serpent's world..even this girl i like a lot told me she was a fish and i was a serpent... she must have not known my knowledge of the bad... the worst ... sometimes i am just so aware on how criminal we are unhealthy, in the way we eat, in our addictions... no wonder i find smoking good for myself.... smoking arsh cigarettes and drinking scotch and herbal tea seems like a way healthier solution then th efood i eat everyday at my job... but it's free..not all is free, the after-midnight snacks are not .. and the going away needs arn't as well... but for all ou live , there is a price to pay , i lik eto comvince

that's it ..... I WIN .. I AM AN ANGEL FOR TONIGHT... NO LIES... I DID IT .. CALLED AWAY THE SNAkES IN ORDER TO BE KEPT PURE N WATER

i love it ,,, some of the few that knows me could read in between the lines..

snakes; comes after midnight when you feel weak but son't even know it ! you only feel like a piece of shit, more then week after then enlace your whole body, left your soul thinking too much ..

the angels; are those who choose to go to bed even awake tormented by their beloved demons. but they are blessed through their dreams, unknown, so they awake with more wings, wings made of steel...

tonight don't ask me why , or how it happens, but i am going to be an angels of light ..

sleep...sleep..no matter what .. romy would say so,,, do the same....
hopefully i'll dream of love

un ecrivain seul , c'est de la folie , parce-que rien ne l'arrette... M . DURAS

days left

3 more workin' days before i get to run away .. and gracieusete de migghan i get to run away with a the cure album, all i need, cigarettes, a 26 oncer of scotch and to be sitting in whatever van that'll take me away ... i have been dreamin about it, every day ... i have one only worry , some of my friends there havenot been receptive to my request for a place to sleep, i hate to beg , i am also really succeptible and take shit personnaly , i ant help it , i have been like this for a while , some of you are rough to change, like your name stuck, yur family, a lot of bad habits, they are part of yourself.... i know peoplewith crazier caprice then that , but i love them. i just wish the people i want to see would also want to os me... i know i would host pretty much everybody i know... new music into my life... a craving for drugs, but i am being hardcore resistance since the only thing i can get deliver to my door is way to expensive and addictive, i have a bit of scotch left so i'll sip carefully try to think of something else.. this moby song called porcelain does to me the ame effect it must do on everybody who have seen th ebeach , th emovie, it feels like the ocean in south somewhere hot, burning hot.. with turquoise water ...
it's funny my addiction to chating on the net , i am writing random to people and everynight coming back t my home expecting mesage from a couple of people i truly wanna hear about , but there is only one trustable stranger that writes long messages to me... i will meet this person soon enough to feel where this interest will go , it's strange but they say you should expect romances to be unexpected, from the people you would have never tought. so maybe i shou dstop waiting for what's obviously not coming my way th eway i wanted it to ..... and let time be, leave the days aloe they will go on , their path in your life, breathe in breathe out when you need it most . go away from this fucking screen , you;re sitting in th ewrong way , careless of the comfort of your back... careless of the mess arround you. all you care is words to everywhere, words no one knows really exist for now, a moie to make, to write your guts, drink and smoke.. go to bed, go lay down with a book , this amazing polish lady gave you th ecreme de la creme to read et tu n'est meme pas foutue de tourner les pages, instead ou are waiting for a call from destiny that is especially not ready to come your way , or even worst it's hiding in between the books themselves, you are too sure of yourself your life you believe it stand hiding in the same pages you are turning over and over, but there lays only lies and fake lullabies., the ones you dream awake in your bed all night t'll dawn..... lies for all my lullabies, start living for fuck's sake .. there you go i have reach it , the magick point where you start to talk to your own self, i know few, but really a tiny little few people that can crush me down with truth , about th evisions i am addicted to , and the most reliable is me.... most of my friends are way too carefull , and they believe most i'll say, i am good because of that or sad or stone or rehab or clean, ... believe in my voice, i am a preacher that can be so honest , even when i choose to lie...

hard to believ ( smile ) but trust .. blind fuck ....who knows i am the one to repeat there is no need of reality .. more brilliant then me said it already .. .Fellini ..

rain... let it rain all day

october 3 rd .. 2 '33 pm,,, that means i unfortunately have to go to work soon, eat more mexican food. the last text i posted here was sad day , i am and was feeling better the day after that , they are usually short drama... my roomate is finaly ere, she is a casual talker. another like didi to make me realize sometimes i enjoy a lot the voices in my head. 5 more days and i'll be away to Toronto, finally , i am excited that i'll get to stay at greyden's house for a couple of days,more homo for a healthy week, it's his birthday too.. i got news from pike , i had to tell her if she comes to Montreal when i'm in her city i'll have no other option then to kick her ass, for real.
i wrote to brescia, and i tought icould stay at her place but no answer which is sad, but what can i do, i ain't gonna cry . i have better to do, for real. i have to stop thinking or no, stay in my head t'll i leave, work non-stop... go out on saturday, yes believe it or not i am gong to the village'd drugstore for a late pool party, meeting this girl Ashley, another girl boy in between, my new addictions....

i could write, more deep, but i ned a shower, i need to wake up my body, my mind is there , but the body is asleep....

it's raining and i want rain for the next hour so i can take the bus ..

bloody sunday...dark days

sunday is the day off. i get paid on saturday, i am a big spender. my act; stupid. result; nroken body and broken wallet. guilt; almost not; just feel stupid. it will go away if i eat good , re-work the money i spend and move on, but i am way too aware to be a think-not kind of addict, i use to consume my life at a fair cheap price, now i do it less often but i went in the high prices. result; no good, i need to leave, for a week, i need good stuff to happen to me in this city i started to make appearance in , Toronto. people say it's not that great over there, it's not as good as montreal but the people, people my style aree better to me. i always fall in love, then come back dreaming, but coming back to where you left and changes no means nothing after a while, i need to get traumatize, more, my heart wants to be shaken. m.o.r.e. my appartment is already getting better , Sam is now here, she just got here, builded her room, faster then me, it was motivation so i put a damn curtain as a wall to my bedroom, we definitely need a kitchen table. my aunt was making fun of me when she asked if i had gotten one, i said no like i am wondering what could be the use of it , but she says my roomates are probably a little more in need of something usefull like a table to eat on. make sense. god today is a day i would love to be at my grandma's, eating potatoes and overcooked meat even. but instead i am home and i have to decided at some point between an onion or an egg, but no bread, no oil, no sweet fucking nothing. i shall just pretend i am doing a cure, i have old chinesse's finest tea, i probably could last longer then i think on that. and grow better. it feels so cold right now, but i keep the door by my computer open cuz i smoked so much all night and i truly don't want my roomate to run away suffocating, it's a dark day, i will stay low profile, real low. she 9 sam) is already getting so much phone calls , it makes me realize i have lived like a total writing hermite since july, no one has my phone, except Didi, but she wouldn't need it anyway, she knows exactly where i live, strange i havn't seen her lately.

i don't say it enough like i feel like i have no rights but i miss pike so much, lately i have been sending e-mails to everyone i know in Toronto, no answer, brescia, Greyden, Pike.. so maybe i am going there to see Adrian, it's a far ride just for a beer and scotch, but i can't stay here, it would be wrong. so wrong . driving me nuts to the core.
the colors outside are dark but it would be perfect fr film, it's not completely grey, it has kept the colors of fall with no sun, soon there is gonna be no light. no light. i am ridiculous with the internet, i can't watch movie so i go on friendster and check people's profile, you actually get to learn more with people's profile then random strangers you see on the streets or into bars.

i went to see the day , i got my true love back, my baby Lucy ... the sexiest german -sheppard ever ... . it sucks about the rain , because whe could have gone out longer, but i hope she don't mind..the closeness inside... i talk about my dog like i talk about a lover.. she is ... ..
enough words for right now ,,, i feel like a 8 yrs old girl writing in her blue covered journal...

afternoon scotch... angels of light

no no i am not trying to say i am an angel, i refuse to be that kind of angel... once you have listened to 'angels of light's ' lyrics you realize it has nothing truly holy .. i love it .. it's middle of the day i am waiting for the bells to ring so i go to work... then i can eat . it's crazy all i had left in my fridge were little children's cup of chemical pudding, and veggies crackers, i am still trying to figure out if there is truly any vegetables for me in there. money release came in today , her name is sam, she's my new roomate, finally . i have hopes in there. 2 more weeks and i am finally going to Toronto... i can't wait , there is a coupe of person i want to see so bad. and i might even have money , last time i was there it was such a struggle to come back, almost impossible, i almost got drop in the middle of the ride back home, for a lack of money ....

it's funnt i finally switched when talking to people from '' i am not doing too good ''to i am actually fine, it would be ridicule to say i am not fine, i got a home, a job and a soon to be found 2000 dollars grant for my movie, but it's the jail type of grant , i have to stay ( kind of ) in the city for a year, right after 3 months straight of wanting to leave , i get my sentence .. one year more... i am wondering if i will truly be able to keep my kitchen job for one year ... lasting t'll christmas feels long already .... fall has just begun... i lovethe weather now, the wind more present , the slight cold on my face . i should go out , more often to wal... but wouldn't it be nice to walk with someone.... . in autumn's leaves. fall... for you ..

life

the aim of life is to live,
and to live means to be aware,
joyously,drunkenly, serenely, divinely aware... ( Henry Miller )

serenade from may 18 th 2005, words by the sea.

finally i get re-write all the letters to the beloved...the letters written in the bathtub.... and the peices of papers, filled in pulses all over my life.... i started to work again in my dearest montreal.... not to long ago, a fine job ... 3 days later i was gone... appear to be on the side of the waters, not any kind of waters. the eastern point of kanada.
newfoundland. i had to climb up the hills because i saw lights on top a fort.. it was the only place for me to see...
i needed soberty. but what am o crazy , people should read love and laughter by henri miller, instead of getting immaculate by the tv's intimacy.... i need flesh and bones. i need raw myself and i am alone.... i need to run up to the girl that knew none of my crazy me when she called me mon amour.... i will ride on a train... my friends , they tend to get nervous about security.. safety first says henri . but the day i stop beleivin' . this day i stop smokin' i am more convince that unfortunaly i might get hit by the first random bus in an empty city.... can you truly hear me.
i want you to call up my name...like in all the song i have been listening... alone it is crazy to be me.
Marguerite Duras; '' un ecrivain,seul c'est de la folie, rien ne l'arrete.... j'avais ce travail-la, ecrire et aimer "

serenade from may 18 th 2005, words by the sea.

finally i get re-write all the letters to the beloved...the letters written in the bathtub.... and the peices of papers, filled in pulses all over my life.... i started to work again in my dearest montreal.... not to long ago, a fine job ... 3 days later i was gone... appear to be on the side of the waters, not any kind of waters. the eastern point of kanada.
newfoundland. i had to climb up the hills because i saw lights on top a fort.. it was the only place for me to see...
i needed soberty. but what am o crazy , people should read love and laughter by henri miller, instead of getting immaculate by the tv's intimacy.... i need flesh and bones. i need raw myself and i am alone.... i need to run up to the girl that knew none of my crazy me when she called me mon amour.... i will ride on a train... my friends , they tend to get nervous about security.. safety first says henri . but the day i stop beleivin' . this day i stop smokin' i am more convince that unfortunaly i might get hit by the first random bus in an empty city.... can you truly hear me.
i want you to call up my name...like in all the song i have been listening... alone it is crazy to be me.
Marguerite Duras; '' un ecrivain,seul c'est de la folie, rien ne l'arrete.... j'avais ce travail-la, ecrire et aimer "

serenade from may 16 th 2006 ( old text written by the sea )

finally i get re-write all the letters to the beloved...the letters written in the bathtub.... and the peices of papers, filled in pulses all over my life.... i started to work again in my dearest montreal.... not to long ago, a fine job ... 3 days later i was gone... appear to be on the side of the waters, not any kind of waters. the eastern point of kanada.
newfoundland. i had to climb up the hills because i saw lights on top a fort.. it was the only place for me to see...
i needed soberty. but what am o crazy , people should read love and laughter by henri miller, instead of getting immaculate by the tv's intimacy.... i need flesh and bones. i need raw myself and i am alone.... i need to run up to the girl that knew none of my crazy me when she called me mon amour.... i will ride on a train... my friends , they tend to get nervous about security.. safety first says henri . but the day i stop beleivin' . this day i stop smokin' i am more convince that unfortunaly i might get hit by the first random bus in an empty city.... can you truly hear me.
i want you to call up my name...like in all the song i have been listening... alone it is crazy to be me.
Marguerite Duras; '' un ecrivain,seul c'est de la folie, rien ne l'arrete.... j'avais ce travail-la, ecrire et aimer "

sept. 23 th 2'33 am...... sleep

just a little words, .. i just posted a big text that was sitting on my screen, it was actually the smallest , i will soon try to put images or a layout or something prettyon my blog pages. for now it is words and words.... and it's funny how this blog is hidding , but somehow we like to have a part of ourself lost on th enet, because it is a fucking lost place, it's a senseless place for loner sometimes, for people who might feel brilliant replacing television by their computers. i usually take letters fro journal i have on the machine and post it here... it's a superficial journal, but it's still me, except people should try handwriting, it's gorgeous , it does turn me on, hand writing and old books, old poetry , new poetry , stories, i talk like a true reader who reads all kinds of shit, nope, i am actually picky lik eyou wouldn't believe ,... it always takes me forever to find a book i might like .. but when i do , i do for real.... i am now reading henry Miller's tropics of cancer after is 'love and laughter' they both are amazing... i want more queer litterature but my city is pauvre dans ce cas-ci .... i just just recovered internet home, so i'll probably be writing a lot to the estranged.. i like it... indeed it's only and will always be just long long conversation with myself. i went for a bit of therapy and realize no one will ever know me as muc as my words are dripping, i have so much journals i felt like i should land the therapist one for her freaking boring life ( i didnt say it, she said it ) ... going there and doing a speech to them made me realize t'll forever that i am so far away from crazy ... i am a freak ,,, but if one thing i became not is insane.. i am mad only about one thing, more like obsess ...l.o.v.e. wait a bit you'll see soon... it shows.... i recently wrote a letter to this lovely woman i know in Toronto, she was quite surprised how not emotionnally craving it was, more down to earth... she liked it... it's like a file.... not everyone can support that much overwhelming lovingness ( ha ha ha ) but for me its a bit hard to live without it ! it can feel so empty ...
nut i always survive... like a friend pirate would say , we have to , go through .... because there is always something after . i cannot throw away or forget the past , i keep it for lonely days , i keep it even when the lost hurts like knifes that are intertwine in the heart but it stays and healing can be, but sometimes old loves appear like new kind of pain everyday, dreams awake with no issues, and lay awake dreaming of deep sleep.

deep sleep and dreams in which...
you might feel the love have survived.
sur ce je quite vers les bras de morphee...

times awaiting, re .. read .. again and i'll change....

just a little words, .. i just posted a big text that was sitting on my screen, it was actually the smallest , i will soon try to put images or a layout or something prettyon my blog pages. for now it is words and words.... and it's funny how this blog is hidding , but somehow we like to have a part of ourself lost on th enet, because it is a fucking lost place, it's a senseless place for loner sometimes, for people who might feel brilliant replacing television by their computers. i usually take letters fro journal i have on the machine and post it here... it's a superficial journal, but it's still me, except people should try handwriting, it's gorgeous , it does turn me on, hand writing and old books, old poetry , new poetry , stories, i talk like a true reader who reads all kinds of shit, nope, i am actually picky lik eyou wouldn't believe ,... it always takes me forever to find a book i might like .. but when i do , i do for real.... i am now reading henry Miller's tropics of cancer after is 'love and laughter' they both are amazing... i want more queer litterature but my city is pauvre dans ce cas-ci .... i just just recovered internet home, so i'll probably be writing a lot to the estranged.. i like it... indeed it's only and will always be just long long conversation with myself. i went for a bit of therapy and realize no one will ever know me as muc as my words are dripping, i have so much journals i felt like i should land the therapist one for her freaking boring life ( i didnt say it, she said it ) ... going there and doing a speech to them made me realize t'll forever that i am so far away from crazy ... i am a freak ,,, but if one thing i became not is insane.. i am mad only about one thing, more like obsess ...l.o.v.e. wait a bit you'll see soon... it shows.... i recently wrote a letter to this lovely woman i know in Toronto, she was quite surprised how not emotionnally craving it was, more down to earth... she liked it... it's like a file.... not everyone can support that much overwhelming lovingness ( ha ha ha ) but for me its a bit hard to live without it ! it can feel so empty ...
nut i always survive... like a friend pirate would say , we have to , go through .... because there is always something after . i cannot throw away or forget the past , i keep it for lonely days , i keep it even when the lost hurts like knifes that are intertwine in the heart but it stays and healing can be, but sometimes old loves appear like new kind of pain everyday, dreams awake with no issues, and lay awake dreaming of deep sleep.

deep sleep and dreams in which...
you might feel the love have survived.
sur ce je quite vers les bras de morphee...

old texture laid left on the screen .

night . o it is perfect . because i will never say it enough . why o night, o it is perfect... why o why . probably because i had have enough . of moving arround going to see people . not that i don't like you people but you know i feel like i do good by myself . o yes like you could never beleive it . have i told you soon i'll be turning 25 years old and i have been all over the place . now i needed my own place . my eyes are fed , last years and more from eating garbage to feeding you, and i of fine cuisine. ,your eyes ate it all. like vorace , i AM an animal and i love it that way . i follow my instinct , about an hour ago they were hungry so all i had to do was appear like a perfect guest at my friend didi she lives underneath me and it is wonderful that way . we would kill each other with too much talking . it's increedible how crazy people like us can talk talk talk in public and alone there is nothing left to say . and we like it that way .. but see... let me tell you something . people's career, people's interest . alone you read, watch t.v. or sew , do the laundry . .

i talk ... still .. in perfect silences . with the music i adore ... even in silences when i could be doing so many other things .. all i wanna do is write ... like an eternal conversation . fragmented words that never stops .. and i do not see the point of shutting up . more times when i go out to the parties. la fete. it happens in my head. i 'd rather sip out to the bottle of wine every night like if it tastes nostalgia . because it entertains me more and more to write or just smoking cigarettes after cigarettes but really i am that healthy ... i just holds them ... they look fancy on my , in between my fingers. all over the paper we use to dance , i have eternal strenght in my fingers . i want to get a lover... in my life.... maybe i'lll finally get busy and appears too this whole wide world like a settle down type of woman, a fine job, still i am an artist , i have a bike, a computer , a cell phone, and a HOME ...


but ii am disturbed by my own melancholy , i am a dreamer. can you hear me .

i am THE DREAMER . my friend tom is the relayer , sometimes i feel like being the lover . but as for now i will be left in total .. all i wanna be is a dreamer . so let me dream the fuck alone .

so .. later .. tonight .. ashley is in the house . perfect . i feel like she will get herself cosy . . and having a bed ....

the wind is perfect , i have my own balcony and i am in love with it .... i have the fresh wind that caress my skin . i can write and give tom a break of house guest , now i can host the freaky lovely people in my house and it is hell o f a pleasure . to be surroundede . with rad and ashley in the kitchen , i grabbed an x-tra futon for her . and i have my room .. soon . it will be colored by my own history , i want to be able to invite julia for breakfast . . i wanna be able to invite who the fuck i feel like . and make them feel confortable . in walking inside my bubble ...

night time . sexy sounds of the dogs on my beds playing like lovers trying to unravelled each other . but i am guilty or more like a pervert eye that always stays open i d not feel like going to sleep . why would i . when i can stay awake t'll my hands they hurt . i am listening to this old cd of that movie basketball diaries.. i wanna read more of jim carrols's diary .

he was hell of a junky and lived up to his own private and final fantasy .

and my name is margo .. so am i . living to the core of my fantasy . and so be it . that is all i had to say . tomorrow i have to attend a job meeting . be a part of it . . completely .

now what .. words for the girl i wanna meet , one day . maybe, we will be going away run away . in a car i will have learn to drive by then. hopefully . then we go away in perfect shadows.


will you let me ring the bell . will i be trying to figure it out . i cannot tell myself to quit . what i started a long time ago . a long time ago . . when i was a little boy , i was born to be a broken dame , and a silver boy , the kind of boy who walks steady right up to the altar. where i would like to lay my dreams .... the SERPENTS will drop in circles around our heads and they will draw circles and circles of silver lights just enough so i can see the lights coming down . the lights coming down . swings like a blade , swings that blade all over me . show me how close you can get . how bad we can get .. let's be electric . together . let's be electric in an order all together . set myself on fire, and i will never let anyone burn the feather that wrapped all over yours , all over you . i wanna wrapped my hands and feather all over you .. so no one can touch ... or even think of hurting you . no one will ever try to hurt you my love. but . we have not. met yet
.


this is always the words of the end ... i have not met you yet . .. ..

night is gonna fall .. not yet .. soon . we are july 3 rd .. i woke up in style ... which means i had a shower then some weird new herbal tea . and scotch whyskey ... and i am writting ... smoking .... good god it feels healthy . my way ... and nothing else matters .... i don't even need to run away from the house that doesn't belong to me ... i have friends a little bit all over this city . some of them are away, some of them are closer, but they know. i think we all know we love each others. and life will go on .

now further in july .. looks like i am going crazy ... la solitude.... with one of my friend, , o c'est vrai du fait on ne rit plus... love and laughter commme dirait henry miller. i 'd rather be fuck out of my head with real girls... the one that drives me crazy .. i truly don't mind crazy lovers ..... i want affection, love .. more love ... and i'll give it all i have to give ...
( notes from the now... it does not work that way .. at all .. it's crazy re reading old stuff you wrote .. then you ralize how quick you have change , how 3 months ago is far .. away it'll go )
someone to break my body ....seriously .. someone to get me out of my mind....

dans la plus douce de ces nuits je reste un plus ..... predateurs ... and i feel ready to run .. run in the deep wild .. nothing to stop me .. break my my body all night long .. somebody get hurts ... .la folie je la connais ... elle cogne dans mes plus profond reves eveillees

camarade..look at yourself, already , nothing is real , nothing to fail me over.
i wish i could get out of my body, out of my mind , out of mysef ..

i could be riding in the desert ,naked , with my silver toungue all over the body i choose to adore.

all i do is smoking cigarettes, getting stoned and i want more, i wish i could be with a lover by the sea, moonlights,and sleeping not alone, wandering stars, and for now i am alone in a room . getting , aggressive on the computer, i can't get enough of myself, i wish there was p.j.harvey loud , denis i remember, and i remember more.
i want to go travel but not alone , in which i died ...

***** that is one of the many text laid on my computer... i don't mind sharing with you, unknown .. *****

to learn to live in the now

waking up , it's no more morning glory . the heat it heavy.
coffee and cigarettes for breakfast . nothing more.
except i would like to go ride in the rain ... to go ride , and maybe hop a train
but i refuse to leave alone. i am waiting . endlessly . for the perfect companion. and then i might go away . south . wher i could re-write the tropics.

and smokes cigarettes. chain chain smokin' . i will let it rain.

of course i had to expect . that feeling of lneliness to catch me in my dreams.
awake, and my bed is left undone. i havn't spoke to no one lately.
i cried in my bed. the feelings . was left . inside. alone. .lonely
today was like yesterday. i didn't expect . more .

i think. i have never felt that lonely .... empty.
my name is still . marijo st-amour. i look like a boy . i am a woman. i need love. .... without it . nothing exist .

i have these words tattooed on my fingers. f.e.a.r.n.o.l.o.v.e..

today. i burn in the day

today, what a fucking day . and i am here to write some more. because there is not much to stop me. / i ran away with my friend didi down-town there is nothing ther there . nothing there for me . do i really care some more. i want t get out of my body . i can't afford that right now . i am stock with a body that's mine i know exaactly how to carry . flesh and bones but seriously have you ever felt any light and the day. there is sun shines and it burns my skinns . and it's itchchy . ca grille . ca grille ... ca piqque . what the fuck am i suppose to do . on a nights like this .. i wannna cry . i wanna cries. i wanna fly away. so you willl not catch me where ever i choose to stay . i w ill go ad fly away. sleep away .. a way. my name is margo .. not marijo ??? only for the private,. and intimate.

morning i wish they would last

morning. awake. not enough time. i am struggling for details like i don't know how to set up my computer . run programs. i want my house to be set . i want to have days that don't exist . where i can clean the whole space . and grow plants , and make tea. and feel clear . and not know that i have to go i the outside world to work for 8 hours. the come back and sleep. and tomorrow is my day off.... but i have so much to do . i need to create myself a kitchen spae . i need to swim. i need more fruits, and energy . the kind you get from the ocean ... i need love . i need to cry .. i need someone to hold me .... i havnt cried lately ... we need that .. i have something like a strong know in my throat i don't realize it . but i don't feel good . and no one knows. i am real real good at going outside in the days . and doing all i have to do . but i need the tears to let go. i need someone to say i love you margo. i guess i am a cancer, it;s apparently the full moon coming soon .. my birthday ,. coming soon. i want someone to take me . outside. i need more air then the fish. i need to breath under water ..

that's it i am crying now. it feels better . i guess . but i have to run away . to work.

i dream my mother would wish me sweet dreams. in whispers. and more music. melancholic.
sad drippings like crystal fall on my skin when it rains i don't hide . i let it be.
i follow my own destiny .....

i am off writing . not because i want too . because i have to go to work ....

home . sweet home

nights. finally it happens. no more running arrround for no one . ' i have access what you could posssibly call stability. my own way. i realize there is a lot of friends you don't see no more. and you miss them . but there is also all the ones arround you . could call or hang out but mi animal's instinct pushes me to rent movies, to et a lots of weird exxotic, tropical juices that's all i drink, and whyskey. i was seriously wondeering what shall i do with a kitchen . and i found answers , plants, chinese plants and herbs i wanna grow . so i can move my body in motion . breathe inside my home. have a real homage to my ancester the monkeys. bananas and lychees , espresso and whyskeys, i know i know i actually have a pretty weird diet . but it suits me endlessly, all of the above ingredients and maybe i can get some chinese tea, and rent a movie....then i'll feel confortable to invite a girl.. for diner.... .

i want to be able to cook again, i wannabe able to calll your name.
in the midnight prays. just like a prayer. i am pelegrim....
un pelerin... is that the actual words.. am i loosing fench .. or am i loosing my mind. it doesn't matter .. as long as i keep it up to

my hands,, they are craving for the long run . immortal training.

there is no rest for warriors like me .... i choose to live .

in the name of l.o.v.e.. .... in less then 8 days i will be turning
in a quarter of century .... and if i made it that far .. i am in.
for the long run .............. ride the waves of intensity.