Dust bullies. The hole is still open and painful. I m caressing the silver bullet and the missing rock on the pink gold universe stuck on my fingers.Ha. Passion sweats

Don't you forget about me I'll be alone, dancing you know it baby Going to take you apart I'll put us back together at heart, baby

The last words 7 years later

Since the last post, we obviously get back together despite being in two different country. I just could not imagine my life without the sharpest man I ever met. But after a mail sent early today, I think his words will be the finals to our beautiful and tough story. To flashtitia Aug 4 2014 at 10:42 PM Cool. I only sent the mail to confirm what I knew you'd write months ago. I won't waste my words on arguing your misguided points. Take care of yourself and goodbye.

End

A week ago I left my man of six years,my cat of one year, my flat of three, my job of five and London town of eight years.A frozen blanket is covering me since. I heard his last words to me over the phone " you ll never find a man who is going to love you as much as I do".I know he's right. But I don't want to find another man, I just want to find myself and I need to be alone.I always felt that my body was mold to be against his. My words became poetry against his ears. My thoughts were waves of images and songs, of improbable ideas. In this six years I never been bored for one minute and I felt absolutely adored every seconds, desired at every moves. But I have the sensation that London has eaten us alive, making our beautiful story surviving when it should have been thriving on the shore of a coastal town. I m off to Moscow now with my baby blue eyes loved in a dark, cold and silent place of my heart. It s been a long week without any of his words and winks. I feel so dry.

notes 2

Winter evening between dog and wolf. Open window, freezing breeze. Torso breathes. Fumes from a transparent mustard glass. Eyes paralyzed on distant electric concrete. Hands tenderly roving around the black coffee glass while the horizon is going to sleep, tender coffee spilling on the neat wood, forking off between a cup and a virgin ashtray, brown amazon river running after gravity along the white plastic of a washing machine and dropping slowly now forming a dark ochre puddle. Coffee lac reflecting the giant legs running for a blue sponge. Sucked into the absorbent blue, the once magnificent arabica drew a flat face sticking tongue at the running cleaning hands. Magic lost for two drops on a naked foot.

notes

"one day as I was in a tender roving, my dad told me "listen son, today if you want the moon, you should not be a poet but a cosmonaut"" Loic lantoine

2.38 am

I m thinking about you too.

Atomic combustion is not available.

Everytime I m starting to feel distress, so fragile that nothing matters anymore, funny images always comes, keep me occupy the time to find my chocolate appetite back and leave me amused.
I keep thinking of falls, grandiose falls from ultra technical bridges, and then my mind focus on this few little seconds which certainly seems so long, what can you do in this few little seconds? If you really can stretch time, would you try to get some acrobatic figures done? Would you have a 360 degrees look all around taking the fall as an occasion to watch your city as you never had before? Would it be like a suicide tourist outlook? Could you actually sell it on touristic flyers? “Die while experiencing the ultimate London/New York/Paris Viewpoint” At least no unsatisfied customers.
And then the big splash, the body breaking the violent surface,the bone breaking point but is the heart stops suddenly while taking its last breath a bit like when you reach the extreme point of an orgasm? Do you die cuming? Do you ultimately fuck with yourself?
And then under the surface bit. I can feel the water‘s hands dragging me in the deep dark velvet pit,dark seaweed and draining current,gravity and terror, silence...But no! The heritage of years of bad movies and fantastic novels starting to colonize what was supposed to be a nice resting idea, a calm dream of death, a comfortable self pityness... But here they are, an army of sea monsters with a working brain, a green fishy humans creatures Lovecraft-ing through rusty Rover carcasses on the River Thames’ intestines starting to tracking me down... Then it s tinme to realize that I don t want to fall and be a dinner, I don t want to be part of the London‘s smell, I want to be a waste to nature and humanity, I want to disintegrate with no traces left.
The only option is then suicide by atomic combustion.

First letter, first week

my epic love,
thank you for your beautiful words, as always they are fuel, desire and gentle madness. they call me from so far away this time, out of somewhere deeper than the black yawn of those years before us, way back when the universe inhaled at my shoulder, over these judas tree hills, this jasmine fog, the 3000 mile convex oceanic lung....and so its terror to be here, a plague of sense, experience as pestilence, the loneliness of the starlight walker, the terraformer blues, motherfucker ! last night i was thinking of miller, and so thinking of you. he is one truth here, among many others (conrad, herzog, peckinpah) but alone in the night with your ghost its hard (or perhaps safer) to see the rest.....you will see, we can only dig for this truth together...yass, yass my queen, its a brutal culture hustle; american dead-tech sitting on cocaine runways behind american dead sitting on rolex streets, leather bound cruiseship widows hunting for a day of braided hair and tropical horse cock, ejecting down gangplanks serenaded by no13 hookers from unlucky casinos, mr cool, the fuckin colonel kurtz of air con, whose belly is pregnant with an unspeakable violence that expires through his low bony voice, beheaded tiger sharks sharing freezer space with kobi beef in supermarkets that shine quietly with tiny ambrosial feathers of french gentility (foie, cheese, bread, wine) birds like jewels whose microscopic songs carry your voice to me at 6am....i miss you desperately, ms martinez, without you these words speak of visions seen through nerves, dead before they take weight in the viscera. i think of you with every perfect move you make through babylon, with every pull of the medusa on your muscles i pull with her from 3000 miles away, take good care, take your pills, go to ceramics, print, paint and draw, eat properly and promise me your gifts of cum and sweat, smiles and laughter, memory and silence. i adore you my queen.

lost sketchbooks

webshite

i just bought www.flashmama.co.uk for all the videos works in London and www.ishitart.com for the works with david. Yeah1

Found

Peter Pan 02

Peter pan syndrome

Stack O'Lee

picture05 drawing by christopher rainbow xx

madonnas

freedom pass 2

Rockers get a freedom pass too.

freedom pass

Trying hard to get a bit of order in 10 years of messography, this is the first drop in a serie called freedom pass.

4 sketchbook

-you make the shoes!
-The choice baby, the choice.

D. about romain and his Rabbit Marple : What s the fuck is that thing with skinhead & rabbit?

Elvis to Ben( who is a marine) :
b: Turtle have a really weird taste, is between rabbit and plaice
E: Fucking hell every time I m buying cigarettes, I m giving money to him to eat the last turtles of the planet"


Sharon Osbourne who is the organizer of Ozzfest tours and festivals responded to Homme's criticism with:
“ I hope he gets syphilis and dies. I hope his dick fuckin' falls off so his mother can eat it.


we can not smoking, fucking and eating bacon in the single room without opening windows.get it?

Quotes and cunts.

Runaway boy on his lucks and crusts.
-The first time I ran away I was eight after an argument with my mum. She told me off because I ve been bitten by the dog. So I decided to run away..with the dog who had bitten me.
-This is the story of your life.
-err..thank baby.

I could feel today on the overcontaminated Finsburian Park walls the end of the bacterias, the running electric nervous systems of naturals angers and exhausted DNA.I felt the end of all, the collapse of desires and the rage against the mature wisdom...