Muze (ic)

Parle-moi de moi

Posted on

Je ne fais pas que crier. 

Je peux chuchoter aussi.

—sSOSs— 

Je fais (encore) un trip de Beatles… Moi qui déteste le fleur bleue, le mushy stuff, je me demande toujours, avaient-ils une fille en tête tout le temps en écrivant? Des fois c'est pas les paroles elles-même mais plutôt comment les mots se fondent dans la mélodie, comment les phrases marquent le rythme. Comme Pink Floyd, Led Zep, Radiohead, les Beatles restent pour moi une mine de découvertes. Je suis la track de bass, ou le rythm guitar, whatever. C'est toujours aussi bon. (Bon, ok, à cause de CHOM, mettons que je ne suis pus capable d'entendre D'yer Maker, All of my love et Money entre autres… anyway…). Sur mon dernier cd, mes obsessions:

1. She's Leaving home (je l'ai déjà écrit ici, she goes downstairs to the kitchen clutching her hankerchief… c'est juste… parfait)

2. Here There and Everywhere (there, running my hands through her hair, both of us thinking how good it can be… ahhhh picture perfect. le bridge aussi, and if she's beside me I know I need never care, but to love her is to meet her everywhere)

3. I want You (She's so Heavy) juste intense.

4. One After 909 (c'est les Beatles débridés, ça sent la fin du set)

5. Why don't we do it in the Road (juste pour écouter Paul se prendre pour John au micro… mais maudite belle job au piano)

6. I've just seen a Face (encore le rythme des mots… I have never known the like of this, I've been alone and I have missed, things and kept out of sight, for other girls were never quite like this) 

7. If I Fell (arrangements brillants, surtout en considérant la toune dans son ensemble, sans structure évidente, et John et Paul qui se promènent d'un couplet à l'autre… pas de refrain vraiment, on dirait plutôt une succession de bridges)

8. Mother Nature's son (pour la guitare, le beat et le calme doux)

Bon, j'en ai 25 sur le cd, mais c'est celles qui me captivent pour le moment. En fait c'est 19 des Beatles, 6 des Wings (nonnnn, pas Jet, ni Band on the Run… merci CHOM)

—sSOSs—

J'ai plus beaucoup de voix.

J'aime mieux écouter la tienne.

J'ai plus beaucoup de mots.

Je puise m'épuise me noie.

Dis-moi. Encore. Avant que j'oublie. 

Realities

Posted on

 

Led Zep - Babe

 

So many thoughts I'm trying to carry through. It used to be of pain, loneliness, my inadequacies, my insecurities. It used to be about the then and some now. A lot of now actually. I haven't been able to focus or concentrate much lately. It's like I've fallen out of touch with my head.

There's something there. I wonder, maybe it's just because I've dealt enough. I've examined enough. The things that I was looking into. Trying to understand. Maybe all I had to understand I have. I used to feel drowned. Life was begging to quit. So I looked. And tried to pull myself out by dealing. Admitting. Facing. What's left might be asking to be put to rest.

Familiarity. As though I do not want to quit the comfortable surroundings of my depression. I don't need a fucking doctor to tell me what it was. And it all rested on one single line. One single phrase. Oh the paths I took to get here.

Now I am looking at new thoughts, new feelings. The unknown. I have no idea how to deal with these. It's easy to talk about the most painful emotions, when it's all you know. I'm all talked out about them. I'm left speechless before the new.

Hope. Love. Happiness. Fuck I'm getting sappy. Hope I now have. Happiness I will get, bursts of light, moments, that's fine.

Love. That's fearsome. To recognize my need for it. Nothing special there… maybe. But how can I ever understand, accept this? To want it. Want it so fucking bad that I'm leaving everything else behind? I might never get it. I might miss the rest of what I have. But I will not… I will not die without giving myself the chance to live with the possibility.

I don't even know how to dream about this. How to write, create, be inspired. I'm afraid. Paralyzed. It's right there, on the verge of knowledge, I hang, I hover. I'm letting go without knowing if there ever will be something else to grasp.

I miss being able to touch the intangible, caress ghosts and float above my well. I want to dive back in, regardless of the cold. But I won't. As with all my hurdles, my changes, my insanities, I will embrace this moment, try to make the most of it. This is real. This I can touch. I can smell. That might be the most frightening thing of all. Reality.

 

My possible pasts

Posted on

 

They flutter behind you your possible pasts
some bright-eyed and crazy some frightened and lost

 

Had I not erased a year in words, I'd be living in one possible past where I'd die. Of pain. Of being tired of being lost. Of being nothing but a memory, or a ghost, or a spirit. Awakened once in a while by some mystical incantation, to be used and then discarded. Put back in its vaporous box up in the attic of some stranger's good conscience.

I don't want to forget the possibilities ever. Not where I was headed, not where I wanted to be or go. Not the words, not the carvings on my skin, so tired and hurt already. And every time history will want to rewrite itself, I'll stick a finger in one of my freshest, deepest wounds.

Do you remember me, how we used to be? Do you think we should be closer?

Everything has a purpose. I've said this many times, meaning every word deeply. Every bad move, every mistake. To escape a possible past that I wouldn't want to live with. But ended up carrying on my back anyway, because it had a purpose. 

But as my shoulders straighten, as my eyes open, as I make my way towards a path I haven't walked yet, the load gets lighter, the purpose finally guiding my steps. Next one will be different. Not better nor worse. A possible past, a purpose.

 

 

La monnaie du soleil

Posted on

 

Un moteur gris dans le brouillard
Me pousse au fond de nulle part entre les anges dans le soir

 

Enfin, pas tout à fait nulle part. C'est au fond que je suis arrivée. Je l'ai touché, goûté même. Est-ce que j'ai essayé de sortir tout de suite? Non. Parce que je voulais sentir mes pieds pris dans  la boue. Le froid, le mouillé entre mes orteils. J'ai ouvert mes bras, tendu les mains et passé mes doigts sur les paroies de mon puits. Humides, gluantes. Gratté avec mes ongles, pour m'assurer qu'ils seraient sales. Une trace.

Parce que j'en sors. Oh oui. C'est sec par endroit. C'est là que je met les pieds, en attendant que ça sèche plus haut. J'ai des fois le bruit de ma respiration dans les oreilles, et je me demande si c'est vraiment la mienne, si je respire encore, si c'est pas l'écho de la chute. Le fond descent, je monte, et pourtant je ne vois rien, ne sens rien, ne pense plus. Monter, monter, monter, c'est tout ce que je peux faire.

La sortie, le haut, tout en haut, c'est comme un aimant. Comme l'était le fond. Mais je sais, je sais, que c'est une illusion. Que l'attraction ne dépend pas de l'aimant. Ce n'est pas en haut ou en bas qu'il faut chercher. Chacun leur tour ils m'attireront. Et j'aimerai chaque moment passé en leur présence, tout en me disant que je dois partir, que je dois monter… ou descendre.

Entre les deux. Perchée, perdue, suspendue dans le vide du centre, du milieu. Ce n'est jamais un non-retour. Le fond est mou, maléable. On peut toujours creuser. Le haut est infini, ouvert sur le ciel toujours clair, toujours bleu. Et même quand il est gris il est beau. Il m'appelle pour le moment. Alors je monte, oui, c'est vrai, je monte. Sans bagage. J'ai tout laissé en bas. Je serai de retour bien assez vite.

From the north country

Posted on

Well, if you're travelin' in the north country fair,
Where the winds hit heavy on the borderline,
Remember me to one who lives there.
She once was a true love of mine.

Well, if you go when the snowflakes storm,
When the rivers freeze and summer ends,
Please see if she's wearing a coat so warm,
To keep her from the howlin' winds.

Please see for me if her hair hangs long,
If it rolls and flows all down her breast.
Please see for me if her hair hangs long,
That's the way I remember her best.

I'm a-wonderin' if she remembers me at all.
Many times I've often prayed
In the darkness of my night,
In the brightness of my day.

So if you're travelin' in the north country fair,
Where the winds hit heavy on the borderline,
Remember me to one who lives there.
She once was a true love of mine.

-Bob Dylan

Click anywhere… 

Guide

Posted on

Little by little the night turns around

-Set the controls for the heart of the sun

click up here… still can't put in a player.

 

Everyone is lost. No one is safe on their paths. Some have strayed further than others, and might struggle a little harder to come back.

We are looking around. That look. Those words. Lost. Whatever caught our eye to make us stray, it was all it took.

Find some hands, any hands. For the remedy is in the touch. The way will be shown through a communion in the void of our collective soul.

 

Stream of acceptance

Posted on

Deaf dumb and thirty
Starting to deserve this
Leaning on my conscience wall

-Bush (click to hear)

 

A face stamped on the very first riff.

Gone, gone, should be fucking gone by now.

Yet I still find myself on my hands and knees howling.

Yet I still look back for a glimpse of reality.

All this to remember I was still a woman.

All this shit to remember what it means to give.

Nothing in return. Just an empty shell. Again.

How many times will I give thinking I will receive?

How can the idea of being posessed be so seductive? 

Does swimming against the stream sound too ordinary?

Do images stay that long?

Starting to deserve this indeed. 

One year has gone since my birth. And suicide.

Fall will be hard the breath.

Because I have disconnected my life support.

The smells will remind me.

The sounds will remind me.

The cold air will remind me.

That I was dead before. That I have died again.

I want to deserve myself.

I want to be worthy of me. 

I. Will. Not. Go. Back.

To no one, to nothing.

I am my own gift.

So get the fuck out of my way.

Still summer

Posted on

You don't need to know what I do all day,
It's as much as I know watch it waste away

-Wolfmother/Vagabond (click)

Oh, I saw colors, colors, colors flooding the day

Filled me with smiles and questions and visions

They drove me and I drove them and we got there

The colors, everywhere, free of bonds, free

Fly, hover, jump, float I did and did not come down

In my dream in my mind in my eyes

To be one of them, radiant and exploding with clarity

Mingled, twisted, in embrace

In a multitude, a single color