Colored pencils, inked outlines

Volubilis Monolithe, crayon de couleurs sur papier. Il me semble que l'inspiration pour ce dessin m'est venue de Beksinski, alors que la palette ocre ferait penser à Di Maccio.

Nightly wanders sometimes offer
Those innocent parenthesis
Simple moments, a touch, a kiss
Three fresh dewdrops on a soft skin
Unknown places,
and a kangaroo dream.


_{(... ballpoint pen doodles on paper)}

It's been a while, I know, and I fared though it anyhow.
Tonight it's still hard to write. I've tried so many times but never managed to come up with something fine. A dozen of unnamed text files lye on my laptop's desktop, bits of disordered thoughts, aborted uninspired poetry, splashes of nervous yells.
You know how hurtful those reproaches can be when they are thrown at you by beloved ones. I'd like to wash them all out and find myself back... writing it down for you I don't want to ponder my words anymore.

My company has kicked off. Since the beginning of this year I've been kept constantly busy, to the point of getting clients crowds pressuring us because of postponed schedules. In a sense, it's great, because we're going to pay ourselves a decent wage at last!
Since the age of 8 I've been passionate about programming computers. It's always been quite easy to me, I find it much easier than painting in fact. Since our Atari ST demo crew we had back in the early 92, my old friend Julien and I teamed up on many exciting projects, then finally found 2Roqs, a killer software/webdesign business that we've been running for about one year and a half now.
Here's the place where I spend all my working days; here's the second facet of my giant contradiction.
I really love my job. I couldn't have dreamt any better one and when I'm at work I barely can stop; when I finally go back home, it's an exhausted Michael who tries to grab his brushes to become again that painter he is supposed to be, until late night. Come morning, provided I got some rest, the coffee cup is not done yet that I'm already melting the colors in front of the canvas, but the damn clock of the businessman is urging me to start the routine once more.


Lately I happened to spend a full month doing a engineer's type of job at a client's, far from home. I didn't know how fast breaking my schizophrenic cycle would damage my mental stability. After that little while out there, I became unable to create anything, facing major disbelief, bordering depression. Work is the shelter that kills.
"Beware the barrenness of a busy life", Socrates wrote.

Sometimes it's really hard to figure out what direction to take, feeling like torn off between the too opposite sides of yourself, but that duality is a stressed equilibrium that allows you to stand still....I guess...

There's so much beauty down here, it puffs out my lungs with blissful scents. And I keep on walking blindly along the mountain's crest. Someday I would fight the call of the lush slope no more. Someday I would let my entirety fall.

My emotional side scares me a little sometimes. I could be so fragile in front of feelings, but there's so much beauty down there that it makes want to dive. I still have in mind the thrills for that novel I just read. About fifty pages before the end I started to feel weird, deeper and deeper touched as the words were imbuing my bare senses. I had closed the back cover for several minutes that I still was shedding uncontrollable torrents of tears. Here's that one guy who used to act tough! "The shadow of the wind" by Carlos Ruis Zafon; I feel so mystically bound to it that I'll never return it to my Mom.. sorry for that Mom...

It's been months since I haven't released anything, even a single journal entry. I've thought about it a million times, and the words running in my head were worth filling a one hundred pages long speech but eventually: nothing came out.
Since I was pointed out many disappointing things about myself, in particular a profound egotism, I'm scared of anything that could be dictated by it, and talking about myself is one of the things that I can not do with the same old ease.
It might be great to take that step back and question about oneself, but sometimes, when the questioning is that violent, it can cause disasters you could not imagine before.

Hard to walk when the ground has vanished. Hard to foresee in a massive haze.

I drink whisky because I don't know anything that hurts my taste that bad.

Pauline Croze "Mal Assis"

<sub>Une chaise renversée
Et mes jambes qui s'égarent
Ton visage s'est inversé
Sous le plafond de ces bas

Une vie trop bien rangée
Apprivoise chaque soir
L'imminence redoutée
D'une chute obligatoire

J'ai cette vie à l'endroit
Qui se dresse sans un pli
Des rêveries à l'étroit
Qui se pressent dans l'oubli

Je veux aimer à l'envers
Remarcher dans les faux pas
De mes amours de travers
Qui me suivent pas à pas

C'est vrai
Qu'on est mal assis, là
Qu'on est mal assis


Repasser dans le désert
Des errances d'autrefois
Redevenir solitaire
Comme un oiseau vu d'en bas
Quand j'aurais fait le chemin
A rebours de mes déboires
Je pourrais penser enfin
Au projet de me rasseoir

C'est vrai
Qu'on est mal assis, là
Qu'on est mal assis
Qu'on est mal assis, là
Qu'on est mal assis...</sub>

Aujourd'hui nous avons reçu au bureau notre petit dernier, le tout nouveau MacMini et son processeur intel "core duo". Quelques jours à peine après que Apple ait dévoilé son "BootCamp", nous nous sommes empressés d'installer un système XP sur le petit bijou. Flawless... tout marche à merveille!
Pour nous qui cotoyons les ordinateurs de puis plus de vingt ans il s'agit là d'une petite révolution. C'est la première fois qu'une machine fait cohabiter les frères ennemis, Windows et MacOS.