Futur sucks

Futur sucks
What it used to be before our cellular lives

dimanche 9 août 2015

A book to be written

I'm pretty sure I once wrote something like "hey I'm gonna write a book" and if I did not, which is something absolutely stupid for the reason I always write nonsense or useless things on that blog and the day I finally find something interesting to do, I find a way not to write it down, now is the time to do it so:

" Hey, I'm gonna write a book!".

Actually, "i'm going to" is not really accurate for the reason (once again, there're too many reasons) I already started and am almost finished -which is a great achievement because I never go further than having the idea usually-.

So I thought "why not share a piece of it with you" and so here it is, just below, waiting to be read, again and again.
Of course the "book" is in french - I mean not "of course", but "obviously"- so I'm gonna try to translate that part of it. And so, so that you know what this is -in that so-called book-, I'm telling you, it is a letter the main character finds at the beginning of the end. 

"Nous partons. Avec fumée, alcool et regrets. Mais nous partons quand même. Nous partons loin de vous, pour votre, notre, nos, à vous et à nous, biens. Nous partons sans savoir où aller, sans argent, sans diplôme, sans réponse. Nous partons avec nos sac à dos, qu’écris-je, nos sacs d’ados, avec nos carnets et nos stylos, votre voiture et nos bobos. Nous avons tout rangé, tout oublié, tout effacé. 
Et nous nous en allons.
 Nous vous laissons la poussière défraichie de nos placards, les fantômes de nos odeurs et un tube de dentifrice. Nous partons battre les trottoirs, vaincre vos idéaux, défier nos idées noires. Nous vous laissons des photos, des mots, le souvenir de phrases entamées et de disputes terminées.
Nous partons amoureux, vivre d’amour, d’eau fraîche et de Polaroïds, avec nos vestes en cuir et nos blousons en jean. Nous partons sans chaussette, sans avenir, sans vie, mais avec l’envie de vous anéantir et de nous découvrir. Nous partons loin d’ici, plus près de là-bas. Nous partons pour ne plus vous voir. Nous partons pour ne plus nous voir, nous et le reflet de nos remords dans le miroir de la salle de bain. Alors nous nous en allons. Sans cabinet, sans eau de toilette, sans pellicule. Mais nous partons quand même, sans toutes ces conneries et surtout, surtout, nous partons sans vous."

ENGLISH COMES HERE. BELOW. (I love that "below" word.)

"We're leaving. With smoke, alcohol and regrets. But still, we're leaving. We're going away, away from you, for your, our sakes.
We're leaving without knowing where to go, penniless, degree-less,answer-less. We're leaving with our backpacks, -then there's a pun i can't translate- with our notebooks and our pens and pains, your car and our scars. We cleaned everything, forgotten everything, erased it all.
And we're leaving. Living.
We let you the faded dust of our closets, our smells's ghosts and a toothpaste's tube.
We're leaving to beat the sidewalks, to defeat your ideals, to challenge our bats. We let you somme pictures, some words, the souvenir of begun sentences and finished arguments.
We're leaving in love, to live of fresh water and Polaroïds, with our leather and denim jackets.
We're leaving with no socks on, no future, no life, but with the desire of annihilating you and discovering ourselves.
We're going away from here, closer to there.
We're leaving not to see you anymore. We're leaving not to see us anymore, us and the reflexion of our remorses in the bathroom's mirror. And so we go. With no restrooms, not perfume, no camera films.
But still we go, without all of those bullshits but especially, especially, we're going without you."

I'm not really sure any of this is correctly written but you may -or might- have an idea of it throughout this sample.


Hope you did not find it to boring,
Lélo.