I had sworn not to set foot in this kind of golden evenings rotten to the core. Small hoes, lined up in their uniform trépanées blondes stir around what appears to be a band of humanoid male, wick and lacoste polo neck back in order. I wander a few minutes down in the garden. An imposing oak ab rite its long branches in a pond of black water and smooth. I uncapped a beer with my lighter and sit at the water's edge. It's night and I can barely see the house behind the trees. These guys have no taste in music is depressing evening. And yet here I am, once again, as if I find her, after all this time. I only saw her once since the opening. In this nightmare of powder and blood, when she was lost permanently, without ever having really recovered. I think I hear the distant echoes of "Damage Case". These assholes do not taste so bad after all. I get up and sends my bottle crashing I know not where.
The house is a real palace. Nobody pays attention to anyone. I found P. in discussion with a group of clones wick. I sit opposite him in a big leather chair and listen to the conversation:
"- Stop believing mess! Nobody believes more! Read, write, call, everything is going to kiss, but stop believing! C is all over now, open your eyes, believe it is not enough, we must act now. Acting ok? You know Kropotkin? BLS Know? Holy shit, you know not Lemmy?
A clones laughs followed quickly by the rest of the group. I think they do not care a bit out of his mouth. I also think it makes account and he plays it. I see a tall brunette making her choice from a stack of discs spread on the coffee table. I agree, lights a cigarette, offers him - she refuses - and catches a best of Black Sabbath. I'm tired all alone in discovering DragonForce Sonic Firestorm inside. What a night of crap. The big brown bears his choice on what appears to be a compilation house. I climb upstairs.
A couple fuck in a room. I think it is the bathroom. In the hallway, a huge bibliohèque lining the walls on each side. All structures are aligned with the galaxy, in alphabetical order. I seized complete works of Lautreamont and plans to fly it a few seconds.
Descending, I passed P.
"- I'll get my bag, I got fired by S.
- Why?
- Apparently I fart a dish or plate out the window.
- Ok, I've found you front. "
I go through the kitchen, gets a pack of beer and picking up a cigarette packet lying around on the bar. Before leaving I plug the speakers to a macbook put on the coffee table and starts the last album Booba. I pass the gate the smile, Double Pony resonates in the street. It
galley bus night, cigarette / beer / cigarette / beer / cigarette / beer and a good night to finish Blier.
I go to bed, and the banter of Dewaere Depardieu still ricochets into the air.
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