Tarte aux poissons

Après la pire heure passée dans le café Joe and the juice à Stansted pour cause de mauvais goût musical et pauvre audition de la part du staff, je m'installe au Wetherspoon "Le moulin". 

Joe and the juice c'est des jeunes anglais au service qui te mettent une musique atroce de boîte de nuit au même volume que cette dernière. Les mecs sont tatoués et se prennent pour Tom cruise dans Cocktail. Il jongle avec les ingrédients des jus de légumes comme si il allait te faire un cosmopolitain, et que je suis en jupe du samedi soir à le regarder comme s'il était magicien. Non mais vraiment le pire endroit, les mecs doivent être au summum de la bêtise pour pas ressentir que l'intégralité des clients détestent leurs goûts musicaux et plus encore le volume auquel ils passent leurs playlist. 

Je demande à mon voisin si sa tarte aux poissons était bonne, surpris par ce contact humain hors écran, il me répond que oui, "ravi d'avoir pu vous aider" il finit par marmoner, pas vraiment content. 

Je veux passer commande à un serveur qui me dit que je dois faire ça au bar. En y allant, je hais l'angleterre pour ce type qui ne peut pas juste me répondre simplement si sa tarte était bonne, juste un un sourire. Puis je vois tout l'alcool sur les tables des clients, les bières et la boisson qui témoigne de la tristesse d'un pays et de ses habitants. Je commande une San Pe citron et paye pour une tarte en indiquant mon numéro de table. 

En revenant m'asseoir, le type à côté de moi me demande en souriant "did you get it ? the fish pie ?" il me sourit cette fois-ci et je lui réponds que oui tout en lui levant le pouce. 
Je hais un peu moins l'Angleterre. 


The worm.

Early bird catches the worm, 
But i can't leave this bed, 
Lying here all my life, 
Hardest thing, having no appetite for the days to come. 
Early bird catches the worm, 
The ones from my dead body. 

When We fight.


You are not here anymore, it gave me distance. It's 11:42pm, I just saw Anna at the flat, she just came to spend the night I thought. I was wondering why she just doesn’t stay at her boyfriends place. 

I am naive sometimes… or I don't know why things are. 

We were talking, about relations, love and how I treated you. She said I was good to you, I did not agree. 

After some arguments and anecdotes about our dynamic when you were here, she looked down and started to break, her eyes wet and the body trying to repress the emotion. But she has the courage to cry and stare at my face, with strength. The feelings slapped me.

I was stuck. It was your eyes getting wet, I could see it on her face, but I was not the source of it. 

It has been a while since the tears of a woman close to me provoked some compassion and did not put me in a state of rage. Because I remember yours and the madness it opened in me, how these eyes filled with salt would just burn my pain even more. Your tears were just sparking my misery and I would scream it all on you. 

I told her that it was hard to be alone but in a way I feel good to have this trial period, this test of us. Trying to know myself alone again. Awake the pain and the shadow of me, my dear friend, his hand in mine, walking and falling. Feeling the anxiety and the panther on my back, holding the leash and keeping it close to me. 

But I said it was shit to be like this, not knowing how to position ourselves in the months to come. Being together but planning not to be. 

I said it’s an occasion for me to let go of you, to let you grow, without me being a bad influence, a negative energy in your life. As soon as you changed city it seemed to have work for you, I cannot decide if its the country or the man you left behind. 

I don’t want to be the anchor of you. I can destroy myself but as soon as I see that it hurts you I become even crazier, because you are good. Show me a mirror with my dark soul and I'll smile to a friend, but if I realise you are the one holding it to my face with fear, I'll break it into pieces, I'll destroy it and you might be the damages. 

Suddenly Anna started to cry, and it opened something in me. It was good to feel, to stop being numb. Seeing what she experiences with her boyfriend as the way I acted with you. In a different way but in a very similar structure of thoughts in the men we become. Self destruction, conscious and inflicted to our own, but as soon as the pain spreads to you, it becomes unbearable. 

When you started to cry in our fights, it would drive me even crazier. I would get mad at you for dropping the first tear. You couldn’t understand. Your tears would open the flow of darkness in me.  Deep down I knew this anger was for the asshole I am that made you cry. This woman who cares about me more than I do, who love me more than I do.

But I don’t. The fight is unfair, I am good at hating myself. 



Et pour la première fois, dans leurs rires, il ressentit la tristesse. Il comprit que pour être si drôle, il avait fallut être si triste.

Toute la famille était en larmes, les yeux humides trempés par ce clown, mais dans ceux de sa mère, le sel avait un goût amer. 


What if I am nothing without you ? 
Maybe I don't want to be, 
and that is the reason I'd let you go. 
Please be somehting without me. 

I’m on the run.

I went to Morocco recently. I wanted to do surf again. I remembered being a young kid, agile on my board, easy. 

I told the surf teacher, “just give a board and a combi” no need for lesson. Boy did my ego drowned deep this day. It hurts everywhere. I need a good ten seconds to stand on the board and ten second is long. Too long. I felt so many times. I failed so many times. I realised I was old, not in shape and rusty.

Came back to London and started running again. Today is my second run. First one was 20 minutes long, almost felt like puking and dying. 25 minutes today. Feeling better. 

I always need incentives when I start running again for a few months until I fully stop for a year… Well let’s hope not. 

I buy small items and products linked to running in order to force me to go, to use these products while running. 
First it was a running bag and a jumping rope. Then I bought the Sony waterproof headphones with no cable so I could run free and swim free, used it twice maybe. 

The more expensive the better, it shames me and forces me to run. 

Now I just bought a running belt SPI something to store my phone and keys on the job. It’s alright. Not sure it’s a big investment enough to MAKE ME GO. 

Runtastic is also a good system to keep tracks of my activities and have a sports calendar. 

Another trick: Podcast. For me, a proud member of the FOMO generation, I can't go running only, it'll be loosing my so precious time, so I run and I listen to smart people. WTF with Marc Maron is my favorite. Just listening to interviews of comedians and interesting people. Great stuff, DO IT ! 
When I was younger and a sexy teenager, I used to run in the Bois de Boulogne, a parc in Paris, I wanted to seduce, hence I was trying

The worst thing when I run is when I start thinking about the junk food I’ll prefer to be eating right now instead of sweating my ass off and feel like dying. In the marshmallow experience I’ll definitely be the kid eating the marsh straight away not planning to have 2 if I wait 20 minutes. Fuck that I could die suddenly, I’m gonna have the marshmallow and bring it with me to the grave. 

I’m on the run now, until next stop. 

Joe Rogan Podcast

Joe Rogan Podcast avec Joe Diaz, deux idiots américains qui parlent de sushi, d'aller à la guerre pour du sel. Ils en parlent de façon hyper sérieuse comme deux spécialistes de la réfrigération.... Putain c'est nul, y'a pas d'intelligence, pas d'opinion ou de profondeur. Deux gros bétas qui se rappellent comment les radiateurs fonctionnaient à l'époque : "quand un radiateur s'allume et que l'eau s'écoulait, le bruit... ça faisait bang cling cling cling".... Nan sérieux ? 

C'est fascinant de partager vos souvenirs, les mêmes que la majorité d'occidentaux à travers le monde, juste un constat, con. Un gros plein de graisse et un gros plein de muscles, les deux complètement vides. 

Do you really travel ?

It makes me sick. Sad, and sick. 

Doyoutravel is a 26 years old guy, taking pictures with his girlfriend and traveling around the world posting his “art” on Instagram and social networks.

He gets paid by traveling companies and brands to post sponsored content. He is a lifestyle travel blogger, like a fashion blogger but for traveling. His clients are hotels, brands of clothes, backpack and traveling agencies or plane companies. They pay him to write and take nice pictures about their products.
I know about this type of humans as I studied fashion bloggers for my first year thesis in. Things evolved and got worse. Adventure and travel is the new trend. Anywouh. 

Everything that attract people in travelling, say food, relaxing, beach, sea, sex and sun and great landscapes are on their Instagram. This makes me sick, I’ve just been browsing for 10 minutes through the pictures and the Q&A section of his website and I am sad, depressed by the fact that these stupid people take away from me all my will and desire to travel and adventure if this is now significant of this tasteless crap. 
It has not taste, no authenticity, no purpose if not to enjoy your time, get loads of money and likes on social medias. They kiss, eat, chill everywhere with great "light and filters"... I just want to break his nose once again so this little boy with no soul can feel what it's like to be alive, to be hurt, to feel pain, sadness and truth. 

You British fuck, leaving your “carpet cleaning” job to travel one way ticket to Thailand with a saving of 3 000 £ was the best thing you did in your life, and then you met this soulless Australian girl with her whitened teeth and you both live the social media dream in your jungle houses, infinite pools, desert beaches or even kissing in Moroccan desert near a fire and next to your guide with not so ever a minimum of respect for his religion, showing no shame or decency...

Keep drinking milkshake and eating cookies in a "trendy" place in Wellington you fucking english cunt with your truly original sherpa Levi's denim jacket. I'll keep eating shit in not so trendy places just for the sake of it all and I won't trade your dirty luxury trip in Dubai for anything in the world.

Honour is enough.

I'll die sad, but the mirror will still show me a smile before I'll break it.

I here by engage, will you marry me ? 

The waiter waits...

for his life to happen. He works in a place that he likes but it's not what he wants.
So the waiter waits for it's life to come to him. He waits for people to come, for tables to clear, for lives to pass in front of him. 
He waits for the right time, for the good opportunity, for the sign, but nothing comes, only less time goes away. 

He waits for someone to push him, for an event to happen, for his heart to start beating again. 
He waits for the light, the ignition to happen, for the motor to roar. 

He waits until he gets bored of waiting, and then he goes, just to wait somewhere else. 

Except he has to go, really go, and he needs to understand this, until then, the waiter waits.

You people are so dumb...

Everybody is talking about us.

I am angry that a guy this dumb was elected, of course, like Marine Le Pen and other political figures, Trump is the kind of people in which you can sense bad, ignorance and stupidity in the speech, the face and overall being. Some books you can judge straight from their cover.

That is one thing and I first wondered how a country can pass through this obviousness of a dick he appears to be. Maybe he's really smart, as Le Pen might be, and knew all along which levers to use, whom to adress etc. he and his team might be strategic geniuses, mean geniuses. 
Then I observed people's reaction, as I lay silent, I watch and I listen.

Acta non verba, j'écoute et puis j'écris.

Fact is I'm even more angry at all my virtual entourage who are so amazed by the results of this election. Fuck. it's a vote, people expressed their feeling and voted for this dump. Fact.
After so much wrong polls and surveys, the first thing you do is to publish some more polls about who voted, etc. in order to find a reason for this, to make sense. God you're good.
Please stop with your "WTF" "How is that possible ?" "Amazing". Dick. Yeah sometimes it's good to write Dick. or Dickhead. You try.

You and I people, considering we live in the same "socio economic bubble", are ignorants. We know everything, we have access to all the movies in the world, books, culture and so on, like never before.
Art, comic books, Tv Shows, name it, write it, click it, you have it, and yet you are sad. At least I am. We've never been so cultivated but yet we are disconnected from the reality of less "cultivated" people, as we'd like to think, with different backgrounds than us and different vision of the World.

"They watch Transformers when I watch La Grande Bellezza, does that make me a better man ?"

My education, my sensibility and so on, made me able to feel the bad in Trump, right it in my irritable guts. But is it the same with others, who's goal is not to eat culture as I pride myself to be, but just survive, live, strive and go on. Humans, different than me, in a lot of ways, but my own.

On Facebook, outside, in the world, I follow, I talk, I share with people that share my ideas, my tastes, my Point of View, we do not engage with people from the other side, we do not "Follow" them.

It's like seing only one side of the mountain, the one on witch you are walking, not the other. But the other side exists, think, love and suffers the same as you, it's just that we are less aware of that because it is not on our news feed.

My goal in life almost, is to read many books. To eat culture. That might also be a curse for when all this knowledge just makes you sad, Bojack.
I believe Seymour Glass, Salinger's Franny and Zooey's brother, kills himself for knowing too much. Suicide could be a way out of it for when the sponge becomes soaked.
But that's another question for Deroxat 20mg.

I stopped listening to music on the street and instead I walk with podcast in my ears, WTF from Marc Maron on top of my list. I am looking for knowledge, it's my gold. I want to Know.
I want to be a writer, to watch and write movies, poems, fiction, everything. I had the chance to live in a family and a socio economic context favorable to the development of brain, education, sensibility and all that really non tangible grasp.

But not all of us do, some are called "pussies" if they read, bullied if they write and punched if they try to be smart, to expend the brain against the level of their peers. Pear, Apple.

Fact is we do not talk, as we are scared to express an idea that might be different. Crucified on the timeline of the common thought. I despise all the ideas of far right, but I start to despise even so the crap line of the left, sharing the same ideas, following artists, celebrities and musicians whom all rallied with Hilary, being "with Her", because this is the trend and it's not worth questioning. You think Jay-Z or all the models, musicians and beautiful people I follow on Instagram makes me want to share their ideas... nope. 
I follow them on social media, I observe them, and I stare at the empty, just to fill myself.

Except for the camera frame that might make you throw up, this is worth watching to get my point.


 So Yeah Trump is the new one, but it's no surprise you motherfuckers. You, obsessed by social media, digital, Oculus, tvShows, etc. you are so out of the real world that when the reality rings at your door you are shocked when you open the door to see the face of a stinky human being. 
In your hipster bubble, the one I am in,  you think all your friends on FB and Twitter and the media you follow, your media, the one on the internet that is smart, sarcastic, funny and wit, is the media of everyone. Conan and Louis C.K are not america.
No asshole, I am angry because you don't realize the state of the world and you are surprised when a dick access the post of POTUS. Wake up, you live in the luxury of you smartphone, your apps and your digital world. I do too but I am conscient of my emptiness and I just embrace it with junk food and some pills.
Also I have a cute girl who sleeps next to me and the warmth of her feet in the bed makes me feel less sad and alone.

You, and I, don't know the least about the struggle of everyday people. Your sphere of "friends" is not the world as London is not Britain and New York or California is Not the USA.
Accept that you were wrong and open your eyes. I know I close mine everyday but I still sense that everything is wrong and that I don't deserve this privilege of not worrying about too much stuff.

I have a good example, I really don't like Casey Neistat. He is for me the proof of things gone wrong in an over consuming america. Made from nothing, he is now at the head of a Youtube empire with millions of views. But I don't think the guy is taking us in the good direction, us, all of his viewers. Once an average guy, he represent the american success story, the guy that is no more conscious of the world around him. 
He helps his UPS delivery man to pay for hospital fees by a kick starter campaign...come on America, this is the typical success story hiding all of the others dying from lack of decent health care access. But we watch this and the hero saved the day by saving his delivery man's sister. 
Truth is, Casey might just have saved his own ass, what would be the guy without his daily UPS parcel deliveries of useless shit to film ?
When I look at his videos, and I do watch them, I see a kid, opening all his parcels of toys, gadgets, drones, skateboard and consuming like I'll never do in a lifetime. I stare at what is Great America !
An overdose of things.

His studio is a factory with a million of screens and plugs and so On, don't tell me this guy has any "ecological" concern. He consumes stuff and energy, all the time in a big quantity. He travels and pollutes more in a week than me in a year. And yet, his latest video is called "Trum won". 
As a political claim, a surprise maybe ?

Just watch this video. For me, the reason it's all wrong in the USA and Trump won are all in the  first 5 minutes of the Video. Consume shit, spend energy, leave all your screens open, receive toys and gadgets that are worthless, made in China and make a video about it.


I respect his self made man situation and energy and productivity, but I don't think it's the good way.

Just like Jerome Jarre for me was the peak of emptiness. How a guy like that could become the hit of snapchat, represent France in the US, be the new most funny guy... ouch it hurts. The lack of charisma of this Jerome made me really spiral in the dark. Specially a video where J. "steals" the camera of Casey in New York to express how much he loves him and respect him...
Big Ball Sucker. BBS j'en place une.


Men, read, learns, grow and stop sharing void to the world, you are just participating in the failure of it all. 


Like when Leonardo DiCaprio makes a movie about Global Warming... fuck this is swell.

Before the flood. 
The guy is so rich and famous that his agent and communication team some years ago must have told him :
 "Leo, you need to find a cause, a purpose for the masses, don't just party and fuck models man... Also be discrete about your friendship with financial sharks and money laundering scandals."


Then this guy, peak of the lies, makes a movie about how we need to save the planet, creates ecology organization and appears as the face of "caring for the planet". God, it's killing me. 


Open your eyes, and cry, because this is happening, I believe it's all going to shit, until we decide to wake up and act.

I hereby Engage, will you marry me ?


Well, by writing this at least I feel like I am participating in the fight, I picked a side and won't be ashamed when all my grand kids will ask me 


- "what have you done Pépé René ?" 


I'll say : 


- "Me ? I watched movies,  red and wrote books and ate lots of blue m&m's.

- So you did nothing grandpa...?!

- Well yes, but I wrote about the fact that these guys were doing wrong, and that's doing something right, no ?  

- You still have some of these blue M&M's granpa...?"


Until we're born again.

Stansted experience.

Waking up, early in the morning, in the middle of the night. Sitting in the bus to the airport, the lights flashing through your eyes closed. This one hour coach as a one hour sleep. And the 5 am cigarette, the one you ask yourself why. 

The fog in your eyes that wouldn't go, the one you hold on to until you're back to bed. 

This guy is on the phone giving the gate number to his friend late to embark, saying he'll hold the gate for him like a subway train closing it's doors. Only two hours sleep, the one that gives you the shits and makes you feel dead already. And the gate to Venicio has closed and these people are red, late and crying for a christmas plane they've missed. As if the holdiays and christmas are not emotional already. 


There is this guy, with a 6 year old kid and a 1 year old. His wife exhausted and red, they just missed the gate to venise, he holds his head in his hands and decompresses, the level of stress he must have been since waking up, knowing already they were fucked and trying to run against the clock with two kids and a fat wife slowing him down. If alone, he would have made it easily, he wouldn't even be there already. Now it's just regrets as he looks at his youngest, his tiny hand on the window outside the gate to the airplane, looking at the one he won't embark on.

La panthère Noire

C’est le problème, quand ça va mal, tu peut être sur de sentir que la bête rode. Il y a une odeur remarquable, une présence certaine du monstre. Elle est là, pas de doute, le noir monte. 

Une clope peut faire cet effet, souffler toute la noirceur que tu possède et la contenir dans ta gorge, dans tes poumons pour la souffler sur ta propre face dans la forme d’un fauve. 

Le mieux c’est d’essayer d’embrasser ce mal, de respirer cette fumée. Cours vers la bête et ne cours pas comme un con pour tenter de fuir, elle te rattrapera pour sûr. N’essaye pas de l’éviter à tout prix, à coup de joint, de pilules et d’alcool pour essayer de la contenir, crois moi, ce sera pire, ça va lui donner faim. Alors encaisse, accepte qu’elle te bouffe un peu, qu’elle morde dans ta chair et te laisse quelques cicatrices, c’est à celles-ci qu’elle reconnaîtra que tu sais encaisser. Gagne son respect en prenant sur toi pour souffrir de la façon la plus normale, pleinement, face à la bête, dos au mur. 

Y a pas d'échappatoire à la douleur, juste du temps gagné à coup de pilules, des petites minutes où l’on grappille sur le vide, on s’engage plus profond dans la grotte sans savoir qu’il n’y a pas d’issue. La bête noire, elle, avance doucement, pleine, d’émotions et d'obscurité, mais pleine. Je préfère ce plein de noirceur qu’un immense vide de rien. 

Alors tu fais comment ? Pour le moment tu sondes le vide, la taille du monstre, regarde sa profondeur, jusqu’où tu peux te laisser bouffer et explorer les limites de son appétit pour ton noir épais. 

ça va vraiment mal, mais je commence à gérer et à la connaître cette noirceur, à vivre avec et à ne pas essayer de la dompter comme une bête sauvage, dressée pour divertir les autres, spectacle quotidien. Non, juste marcher avec, l’observer et la décrire. Noter précisément son comportement, sa manière de se déplacer, son regard qui me transperce le bide. Je l’ai crée alors autant la connaître. Je suis immobile, je prends des notes et j’observe comment la bête se déplace, son comportement. Je la laisse à l’état brut, sauvage. Cette noirceur brille dans son élément, en moi, ne la caresse pas, ce n’est pas ton clebs c’est un animal dangereux et sublime, il vivra longtemps à condition de ne pas le tuer.

C’est ce que certains cherchent à faire, mettre fin au règne animal pour prendre le contrôle sur cette nature sauvage et obscure. Tuer le règne de l’animal. Ils consultent, prennent tous les jours la pilule qui va euthanasie gentiment ce beau monstre. Et alors ils deviennent des petites bêtes innocentes et insouciantes, sachant que le loup ne rode plus, l’esprit en paix à paître tranquille. 

Ils ne savent pas ce qu’ils brisent, cet équilibre naturel. La jungle sublime qui rayonne à l’intérieur, un équilibre précaire, un chaos magnifique. La loi de la jungle, leur jungle. 

C’est tout une chaîne qu’ils mettent en péril, car sans danger, ils viennent de se mettre en cage, à l'abri dans un zoo. Ils refusent la vie sauvage, leur état naturel, pour se rassurer dans un environnement qui n’est pas le leur, à l’abri de la bête ou complètement débarrassé de tout danger. 

Mais moi je préfère vivre sans barbelé pour protéger mon troupeau, être au grand air et savoir consciemment que la bête rôde, sentir sa présence et lui faire savoir que je n’ai pas peur, que je la connaît. Elle se nourrit de ma peur et de mes angoisses, elle est cette angoisse. Alors je la regarde dans les yeux, je partage un même territoire et parfois je la laisse rentrer dans ma zone. 

Mais comme c’est bon de savoir que je vis avec ce monstre, que je n’ai pas peur de lui mais s’il me rend misérable. Je suis entier. elle n’a pas eu ma peau.

Les poumons et le coeur

J’ai commencé cette cigarette, celle qui t’arrache les poumons et le coeur avec, celle que tu commences et sur laquelle tu tires comme si la balle était dans le canon, au bout du tunnel. Mais t’as pas le cran, tu peux juste allumer la flamme, c’est un début. 

Alors, pour toutes les autres cigarettes, la première bouffée de fumée siffle et fait venir la noirceur de ton âme.

Commencer à fumer en allant mal, vouloir mourir doucement, accélérer le processus. Prendre le contrôle, un peu. Toujours trouvé ça con de fumer pour les autres, alors j’ai décidé de fumer au pire moment de ma vie, quand ça allait mal, très mal. Idées noires et fumée grise, goût de tabac et tête qui tourne, visions obscure.

Mon vomi

C'est mon vomi, le mien, tu n'y touches pas, tu le laisses là, sur le trottoir, face à sa victoire.

Tout le trajet je l'ai retenu, je me suis battu, à chaque feu je gratte du temps.

Le chauffeur de taxi, à 5 heures du matin semble lui prendre un malin plaisir à accélère d'un coup, à démarrer en trombe au moindre feu passé au vert.

Je lui en veux pas, mais je m'interroge tout de même, le fait-il exprès, une sorte de vengeance pas personnelle. Je crois que je le ferais à leur place, mais il y'a tout de même le risque de salir l'intérieur, ce qui signifie alors la fin du travail. Quand y'a vomis, impossible de reprendre un client…


Je crois qu'il ne le faisait pas exprès alors.

Monster 4/10 the never ending anime

c'est long, trop long...
il me reste 6 ou 7 épisodes et c'est insupportable. A chaque fois qu'une personne s'apprête à en tuer une autre, rien ne se passe, cette personne finit toujours par reposer son flingue. Tant de fois je vois un personnage déterminé à arriver à ses fins pour finalement abandonner devant l'objectif qui lui semblait si essentiel, finalement pris de remords...

Chaque moment de suspense, je le sais désormais, sera désamorcé : la musique augmente, le rythme s'accélère, on nous fait croire que l’action va enfin se passer, LA MOINDRE CHOSE... puis rien.

Comment peux-t-on tenir 74 épisodes et aimer cela c'est un mystère mais ce n'est vraiment pas pour moi... peut-être est-ce propre au format "anime" japonais.

Monster est une véritable torture.