Ok, a bit of context, it's 2 in the afternoon and K and I ate some brownies in the morning, special ones.
it's amazing. Way more mellow and good that a split. Here it goes up slower and lo,ger.
It's goes from the stomach to your throat and your nose up to the head. THe high is good my brltherssss
SO yeah way better than a split when the high goes straight to the head and punch you in the face and makes you want to be on a ship in the middle of a storm in the bermudas triangle rather than sitting on this chair smoking with these 5 people who feels like their are a thousand in the room/
yeah so We had sex after the funny brownie and tripped out for half an hour later out of our head on the bed. boy that's also gooooooood.
so now the plan is to eat something and got get a coffee in rainy stockey (stoke newington little name for the connoisseurs).
Bisous from highhhh above.
René, je vous aime et j'ai hate de vous voir bientôt à parisiiiii
Bisous d'amour de love du ciel.
PS : I hereby vow to not change or correct the text from now on the monday 14 nov the 2016 at 14:19 in the afternoon to keep the authenticity of this writing and wo'ds intact. Written in the stone of my macbook white 2008 santa rosa HARD DRIVE. BTW I need a new computer this one is really ((..Here i mark a pause in the text because K just told me "I want to eat some french fries" and I totallystopped writing to kiss her and tell her that we should order burgers from deliveroo right now and that's a great idea but finally now we gonna wait to logo and theres food just on thi kitchen…))
yeah this one computer is old realluy. II need a faster new one but i like this sitty old one, it keeps me focused on the writing. Not the gaming, internet and all this bullshit everything else.
I tap and tap and tap and on the keyboard like a mother fucking hemingway in the movies and i feel like kerouac on the road of his writing machine beating the shit out of the ink.
Yah my friends, that's a high and on drugs writing experience right there. In the mind of a higjhman?.
"Pleaaaase Renouuu, I want some food" is saying me K on the bed next to me on my right. The window is open on our grey sky in London. Not rain todayyyyy heyyyy/
Here is my queue. René's out. Peace. and I hereby engage, will you marry me ?
(here is explained to K the signification of the quote "I hereby engage, will you marry me ?" that is fgonna become my signature from now on. ) René's out for a second time now.
I have the extra strengh to publich on the blogg noW.
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...?"
Un dément, un fou qui veut devenir un ours parce que la société ne lui convient pas. Soit.
Son choix est respectable, mais sur sa mort, je préfère le silence du pilote d'avion aux pleurs de ses amis. Un voyage dans la nature sauvage d'un homme, dérangé. Passionnante exploration des ressorts psychologiques de celui qui s'échappe de la société pour se trouver une autre mission, dénuée de tout sens mais auquel il s'accroche par besoin de survie.
Ce n'est pas les grizzlys qu'il cherche à sauver, mais son âme, en se donnant une raison de vivre, n'importe laquelle, à savoir sauver la peau de l'ours.
C'est un documentaire de Werner herzog sur un illuminé, un gentil qui s'auto proclame gardien des grizzlis, protection dont n'ont nul besoin ces colosses à en écouter un expert sur place.
Non, pris d'une mission divine, Timothy Treadwell, en sait plus que tous, puisqu'il est sur le chemin de devenir cet animal qu'il chérie.
Ces petits moments devant la caméra où il replace ses cheveux au dessus de ses lunettes pour sa 4ème prise révèlent le désespoir d'un homme qui cherche à plaire, à trouver sa place, à se filmer pour se montrer en héros, en sauveur d'un peuple qui ne peut pas lui dire d'aller se faire foutre, à par grogner, voir finalement le manger. En effet je peux aussi devenir le protecteur des manchots du monde entier, être le porte parole de ceux qui n'ont pas de voix, mais peut être que s'il pouvaient parler, ils me dirait que je suis un con et que ma place n'est pas sur la glace...
Car c'est peut être le dénouement, un ours qui en a eu marre d'entendre cette voix nasillarde sur son territoire et a juste répondu présent à l'appel de la nature, ce simple besoin de nourriture, qu'elle soit à tête blonde ou à écailles.
En vain, il va terminer dans le ventre d'un grizzly affamé. Quête et succès ultime pour ce doux timbré et sa voie d'enfant innocent. Oh pauvre idiot, tu auras vécu heureux sans antidépresseurs.
A entendre l'enregistrement audio de ta mort, ça a du piquer de se faire croqué par la bête, mais tes cris resteront à jamais dans ma mémoire comme la voix d'un homme qu'on libère.
Entre les cris et la jouissance d'accomplir ce pourquoi il a vécu.
Mais il y'a aussi là les animaux eux mêmes et leur indifférence vis à vis de cet homme dont ils n'avaient aucun besoin, ce imbécile heureux qu'ils ont accueillit assez longtemps sur leur territoire pour finalement s'en nourrir.
Herzog de conclure : "dans leurs visages, il n'y a pas de reconnaissance, de lien ou de compréhension. Aucune pitié" pour cet humain présent sur la chaîne alimentaire empruntée par le grizzly l'ayant dévoré. Lui qui voyait en eux le salut, n'était pour eux qu'un morceaux de viande blonde.
Mourir et renaître en ours, Avoir vécu heureux et imbécile.
You hear the wheels of the five nice to fivers. The darkness is awoken by the cycle bells.
A shadow appears in the lights for a brief moment,
catching the promess of your emptiness.
There is no one on the canal, just passengers.
First bike accident today. I was cycling towards a flat to visit in Hackney, feeling ok, hoping it was gonna be a nice place.
At one light, I was just turning left when I felt the pressure of a big black form coming from my right, it all happens real quick and you don't understand how is it even possible that someone does not realize you exist, you, the center of your own universe, means nothing to another person.
The turn was a bit tight for the van to pass between the pavement so he probably decided it was better to rush me to the left, even by making contact with me, the ant on wheels.
I stop as fast as possible, hurting my left ankle in the process and the side of his van twisted the axe of my right pedal. Under the shock of this, I just had the time to check his fucking car plate. Not being able to chase him because the accident made my bike chain derail.
I think the driver needed to pass quickly and realized in the turn that on his right side was the pavement and on the left something that could move more easily than concrete, so the choice was quick, pushing me towards my own pavement.
Look right, look left, and also be careful of fuckers in you back.
Fucking L.
I just look at him cry, as soon as we entered the plane, I knew it was gonna happen, I've seen the look on people's faces before, but never for my own blood. I see his face being torn apart, his cheeks becoming red and the mouth opened like a torrent of emptiness.
I'm deaf and he cries in the plane, that could be the dream of anybody, not being able to endure the torture of your own baby disturbing and giving headaches to a whole plane. I'm just dumb here, not knowing what to do, turing my head around and seeing people blaming me for the noise of another.
But there is nothing I can do, I try to calm him down, to sing a song with a voice unknown to myself. Maybe that's even worse, maybe the abnormal sounds coming out of my mouth, the serenade I hope to be just is just an awful sound for his newborn ears.
I can feel judgment and complain without the words, I am just calm as I am not disturb by the nuisance that is my son at this moment, I still love him as much, I don't regret any decision, I don't ask myself what could have been this trip without this soul sitting on my laps. For me he's just a weight I carry on me, some heat in this cold compressed cabin.
I am actually laughing at his face, enjoying the perks of my condition, smiling at my sidekicks and looking like an angel sharing this trip to earth.
You see, sometimes it's hard not to hear the words but good not to hear the screams.
ça me reprends, je mise aux enchères sur ebay, des pompes, vêtements et autres accessoires inutiles. J'ai assez de vêtements pour plusieurs vies mais j'en ai toujours un besoin, comme si ça allait me changer.
Je mise sur les objets qui m'inspirent d'être un autre, mon coeur bat à toute vitesse quand l'enchère se termine, les secondes avancent et j'imagine d'autres personnes augmenter l'enchère. C'est peut être le plus haut niveau d'excitation que j'ai attend depuis des lustres. Puis je remporte le match, et l'adrénaline me laisse vide d'un achat insensé, d'une fièvre passée que je ne comprends pas. ça fait 6 mois que je n'avais plus rien acheté, veillé quotidiennement les nouveaux objets sur ebay, et là je suis retombé.
Le stress et l'anxiété, pet-être, ou simplement l'ennui.
Une homme est enchainé dans le désert.
il a soif et près de lui repose un oasis, si proche. les chaine sont trop courtes et il ne peut se retirer du piège. il voit l eau et la torture est immense d'observer ce que ses lèvres ne peuvent atteindre.
Au loin, une silhouette apparait, féline. il distingue les pâtes avançant tranquillement d'un animal famélique. Son cerveau reçoit l'information, un lion. L'animal avance sereinement, déjà mort, l'espoir n'existe pas dans son univers, uniquement la survie. L'homme panique a la vue du lion et s'agite, crie, essaye de l'effrayer avant que le contact ne se fasse plus douloureux que celui de la soif.
Le lion arrive a quelques pas de l'homme, leurs regards se croisent, complices dans la détresse d'un abandon commun.
Les cris, la chaine comme arme pour repousser la bête, l'homme s'agite. Le lion l'observe avec calme, il ne connait pas cet être qui semble apeuré. Assis, il attend que le spectacle pathétique se termine, que l'homme cesse de s'agiter.
Il se remet en mouvement, s'avance vers le mâle qui ne le dominera jamais. Il lui passe devant, observe la tête baissée de l'homme résolu.
Le regard fixé sur le sable, l'homme accepte de n'être qu'un grain de plus, bientôt de moins. Puis un son, celui de l'eau qui clapote. Il relève la tête et aperçoit la bête, couchée sur le cote de l'oasis, en train de boire. Plus que la soif, c'est désormais l'injustice qui perce l'homme.
"Achève moi lâche !" hurle t'il au lion
"Ignoble monstre, rend moi la liberté !"
Le lion se retourne et observe cette étrange chose si bruyante puis revient a la source.
Repus, il se relève et tourne une dernière fois sa crinière vers la curieuse créature immobile.
Enfin, il reprend la route, vers le désert et la chaleur.
I know someone who worked for an hosting agency in london called regal promotion.
After a month, the agency did not pay her, pretending, that the client did not pay, saying it might take time to process the payment, etc...
One night, she decided to write on the Facebook of this hosting agency, Regal Promotion, i repeat the name (you know why) that they were unprofessional and missed to pay her for her services.
Shortly after, a guy called Frank Regal on Facebook decided to threaten and insult for her deciding to express her feelings on a social network.
the guy writes threats and insults like 'kiss my ass', says "now i will not pay you" and finishes by a very classy "you cunt".
Another best time of the conversation is when he pretends the payment was late because of another girl in the system with a similar name, a very fake similar name according to what he wrote.
Oh what a treat to see that London gives the opportunity to people like this man to exist and run a so called "business". After investigating the Facebook of this gentleman, you discover the classic suit and watch bling bling profile picture that tries to tell us he is a successful entrepreneur, but no, it only says how much this guy lacks empathy for the young girls and boys that try to make ends meet by working odd jobs for odd men...
But no instead the founder of regal promotion decides to bully and insult an harmless girl with his words that are worth as much as his fake suit and watch.
The good thing is the screenshot of the conversation are saved and this guy's reputation is not.
Un régal...
®
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.
---
J'ai toujours trouvé ça con de fumer pour les autres, adolescent, pour être cool, alors j’ai décidé de commencer à 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.
Il faut tout ressentir, ne rien prendre pour atténuer la douleur, le mal.
Il existe des drogues, des médicaments, l’alcool ou autre. Mais si je veux l’exprimer, il faut d’abord le vivre en entier. Ne pas mettre de filtre entre moi et les mots, ne pas atténuer l’intensité des émotions, ne pas me préserver.
Hey you, you had a private booking for a table at the restaurant, your order food, drinks for your birthday and by mistake the waiter forgot to put through two of the steaks and understood you wanted your starters all together with the meal.
When you realize this is wrong, that makes you mad, like really, you go and talk to the manager and try to scrap every possible reduction on your little party.
It's so sad to ear your friends having a good time at the end of the table a see you just grumpy for pieces of meat. Maybe you can all just share the food on the table until the last two steaks arrive.
But no, you are gonna focus on what's wrong, what something the waiter apologized many times with you not even giving him a simple smile or an understanding look.
No, you are the princess and tonight your sweet thirteen is not great.
Maybe the reason is you and your very superficial mind, the things you focus on and that really mater, like friends and a good time.
She's got bette davis eyes already, she's eighteen, smart and living in a shithole in Arizona.
Poetry, words and a window on the world appears as an american gentleman, failed writer and newly self proclaimed gipsy coming from france.
It's the meeting of these 3, the lost girl with big ideas, the failed writer with no hope and the gangster trying to escape the police to Mexico.
Free spirits meet in this room where everything can start or end, death, love, rebirth in a new place...
The poetry is sublime, the eyes are just starting to sparkle and the life is rough but truthful.
I call you stupid or annoying when you are.
I doesn't mean you are stupid and annoying,
It means sometimes you can be.
But then I tell you this, you are so scared of being,
that you start acting stupid.
Well, then you are.
Trust me, everyone can be stupid and annoying sometimes,
the only thing is to understand that,
but for it you have to be smarter...
Une semaine pour réaliser que tout ce que je lui ai dit est vrai.
Que je suis sombre, trop, que je ne veux pas faire souffrir mais que je torture.
Je t'avais dis qu'on ne peut rien construire sur mes faibles épaules.
Pour le moment je marche, courbaturé par mon travail au bar, à soulever des bières pour des anglais qui crient devant des écrans de football et de rugby. Et quand bien même la marseillaise retentit dans la salle, chantée par des hordes d'expatriés, je nettoies ce verre sortit de la machine et je ne souris pas. Non, car c'est à moi de nettoyer vos déchets, vos verres et vos assiettes une fois le match terminé, oui c'est moi qui ramasse alors je ne suis pas à vos côtés dans le coeur des français.
Non, je me demande ce que je fais là, dans le sous sol d'un bar londonien, à nettoyer la saleté déposée par des gens que je ne comprends pas, qui se noient dans l'alcool et annulent leur solitude en chantant un hymne lointain.
Loin des yeux loin du coeur. C'est assez simple que cette semaine loin de moi l'ai aidé à réaliser comment je la détruis.
Alors tu as raison, vas t'en puisque je n'ai même pas la force de te retenir, ni même d'essayer.
Je suis vide, et ton départ n'est qu'un trou de plus dans le néant.
Choisit la vie car je suis déjà mort, il n'y a rien pour toi ici, je te l'ai dis et tu le réalise enfin.
Ailleurs il y'a l'espoir et moi je n'en ai plus la force. Ne te retourne pas.
Just saw a fox running after a cat. The little one jumped on the fence and saved his ass, for now.
In front of my window, in the main garden of de beauvoir estate.
Sometimes at night you hear the scream of a cat, or another animal, just being killed by a fox.
London's wild life.
I love this, watching the nature out of my shitty place in a shitty estate in a fucking city I don't really like.
De beauvoir estate is in a golden triangle, between Angel, Shoreditch and Dalston. But it's also in the middle of nowhere, it's an island.
It's the shittiest place in the best place.
Victoria is a prison. You don't have time to breath, underwater, stuck in the only take the movie was shot in. Here you are trap for 2h20 in the life of this spanish girl working and partying in Berlin.
Cut in a movie gives you time to breath, relax, think about what just happened, settle. The idea of a single shot is brilliant, especially when everything goes wrong. Then you are stuck in this nightmare, like when you see yourself drown and you just can watch the slow death.
Of course you can say the script is not a very long and complicated piece of writing, but it's good, good enough for the point here, live the experience of a night that goes bad.
The actress, Laia Costa is amazing and the guy holding the camera, Sturla Brandth Grovlen is an ace.
Regarder la mort en face des yeux, et y voir son visage.
Sourire devant le sort qu'elle se fait de nous,
Savoir qu'on l'aura, si ce n'est pas maintenant, demain.
Echec et mat, quelques jours de plus sur un plateau.
Voir dans l'âme de la sorcière le regard d'une enfant, apeurée par les flammes et soulée de douleur.
L'innocence part en fumée sous le regard des hommes.
Inviter la mort pour un dernier dîner, s'agenouiller devant sa beauté, pleurer.
Un beau film sur la mort et le courage de l'accepter, voir de l'inviter et la laisser entrer, pour observer une dernière fois la beauté et enfin fermer les yeux sur un mystère en noir et blanc, sans savoir.
It shows the faith of a man into the crooked political system of the US in the 30's.
It's great because it's true and everything makes sense. Of course it's hollywood and it's sometimes too much, but even if it is, it's all true.
Now we watch Mr.Robot thinking about our society, corporations and the digital world...
Mr.Smith is Mr.Robot, just a long time ago, a single man making the biggest revolution possible. All by faith and courage.
Politicians and businessmen are working together for their own benefits while the country is in bad shape. The senators are old men, sitting in chairs and smoking outside the action, not concerned by what's happening, just enjoying their secure positions.
But this guy, simple and kind, is trying is best to change things with his own little power.
What does it take to change the system ? Power or faith. Even the small one here can make a difference, just by showing how much he is willing to loose just to be heard, not even to be believed.
After loosing all hope, expressing yourself might be the only way to survive and keep moving, just talking, writing and screaming about the truth, your truth, hoping it will wake something into the sleeping minds of the people around.
We haven’t met, so you already know who I might be.
First I thought of giving you some elements to show the writer, "worthy of your time" kind of applicant I am. Then I thought it would be boring to read on a friday. Seriously, who sends an application on a late friday afternoon...
Fact is, I’m already convinced by my skills, it’s not like I need to persuade somebody else about this to get a job right? I do?
Never mind, instead I decided to give you the reasons why I’m really not that good as a barman and a waiter.
That’s a better way for you to realize I’m so bad at these other jobs I must be a great creative writer. I also master the “Digital world” as you may have noticed, with me starting to follow you on Twitter something like one hour before sending this application.
Smart eh? “D natives” they call us…
But you don’t care. No, the real interest is in my ridiculous experiences as working other gigs when I arrived in London one month ago while I was preparing this awesome application.
Act 1: English beers and "floaties".
First time I had an incident, as a waiter, was when a customer asked me if the pieces of seaweed inside her beer were supposed to be there. Being new in London, I told her it might be possible. Well it was not.
Act 2: A barman is supposed to be confident
I really have no idea how to make cocktails and be a “cool” friendly bartender. The last time I worked in that bar and went to tables asking “Do you need anything else?” “Can I take your glasses?” people seemed truly scared as if my face was yelling at them “I HAVE NO IDEA WHAT I’M DOING RIGHT NOW!!!”
Starting your trial shift by having a sample of every draught beer available in the bar before doing your work is not the best way to be efficient. Or is it? The manager was nice though.
I’m hard working, funny and fast when it comes to get good ideas and pitch, not so much when it comes to pour alcohol in glasses with a huge crowd around me.
Let’s have a chat and talk about us, vacancies and movies.
But recently i discovered Bill Burr on Conan, lots of shorts appearances of the comic on the Conan Show. 2 or 3 minutes of pure anger and laugh.
So I watched his show Bill Burr - Let It Go. Man he's good. You can feel the pain and the rage of the guy, the way he uses comedy not to kill someone everyday. Serial killer would have been an option.
But better, this guy killed me properly.
The bit about the dog, and the old guy at the end, straight classic.
Just watch this. He explains how he kept all of his feelings and emotions inside, making him a human time bomb. All this little actions you're afraid to do as a man and you think of yourself too gay to eventually do... Well he expresses the fear some men have and how it can be recycled as anger and pain and eventually death by heart attack for no apparent reason at 50.
Just a great comic, working on his anger by pain and laughter.
You know what annoys me the most in London, for now.
The stop lights. This is ridiculous.
London is supposed to be a big city, where people move, and are stressed and everything is fast and at the stop lights, nobody moves.
Fuck.
Really ?
The guy in the car doesn't move, I don't, the girl next to me doesn't, and so is the other car on the opposite side. It's like a frozen time and we all look silly.
So everyone is still for 10 seconds. And nothing happens.
Sometimes as a pissed off foreigner, preferably french, I'm so pissed I try to cross the street... and that's the moment a vehicle appears from nowhere and you step back.
Looking even sillier.
But when you do cross at the red light, oh boy, english people whispers...
"He's a foreigner... ohh what courage and bravery that implies" or just "fucking French".
I was walking on the canal from angel tube to haggerston, on my way to de beauvoir estate, this crapy place in the golden triangle where I've just moved.
Angel (west) - Old street (south) - Dalston Hacket (East)
and in the middle, the mer de beauvoir estate. Not really nice but I like crap.
I saw two dogs playing and the owners were looking at them with a smile, while the dogs jumped each other near the canal.
I stopped and i looked with them, a smile on my face.
I really felt like i was not right to be there. None of the two dogs were mine.
So here i was, as a intruder in this peculiar "dog owner" joyfull moment of seeing their beloved pets play.
And me.
Felt good, wrong but good.
Also there was a frozen duck, still, on the walk. Bikes would pass next to him and he did not give a *uck.
I recently saw the Sting (1973) with Redford and Newman and boy I was shocked to realize how much Robert Redford's face gimmicks looks a lot alike Brad's.
I wen to cut my air.
The guy that did it stayed focused, did not talk to me too much.
He knew I needed some silence. And the silence was joined with Phil Collins on his drum set on the radio.
This guy told me he was from Chypre. It was on Chiswick High road.
A place called "Chris".
There was this little girl, trying to read the newspaper, all this twice her size.
Sitting in the tube, all she really wanted was to look like an adult.
I had a meeting on my first week in london for a position in a high standard coffee shop.
They consider coffee as wine, and the barista is the sommelier.
Let's just say when i arrived I probably drank coffee like 10 times in my life, no more, I'm not a coffee junkie, I hate mornings but instead of forcing me to wake up with coffee, I simply continue to sleep. Easy.
So I arrive in the shop and wanted to talk to the italian barista trainer for my interview. He is nice, and ask me to wait outside. He asks "you want a coffee", "of course, an espresso please". What else should I have said ?
"No, tea please."
I sit outside, there is an italian girl, seems like a waiter or employee of the coffee shop, crying and screaming on the phone outside. I already love this place.
The italian barista trainer sits with me and tells me the girl is his colleague, he then joins his hands in a prayer, looks at me and says "Women...".
I already like this man.
Judging by the screaming, tears and drama I think it has to do this sentimental life. But i like it, drama is life and boy she was living it fully.
I speak with him and general manger, it's ok, I say my stuff and he then asks me to follow him behind the counter to prepare a coffee.
Let me tell you I had looked on youtube how to prepare a decent coffee.
He does it. And then it's my turn. I take coffee inside the handle, I press it, espresso pours out, I steam the milk like a virgin and add it to the coffee with a huge smile on my face.
All the other employees were gravitating around me at this point. I looked like an ass. But I was having a huge laugh, in my head.
Two days later he offered me the position.
I could have been a great barista. But I wouldn't have been able to tell you this story. Next time maybe.
