Saturday, May 27, 2006

Little less conversation...little more action, PLEASE!!!

Tuesday, May 23, 2006

From Ibiza

I walked on the shore today
i watched the sunset at the casa del mar
then i went and sat down
i could never do that when i was younger
i could never just be alone
it seems that i mastered it now
being alone
it seems that you reach a point in time
when you have enough peace within yourself
to be able to face yourself
then i saw boys and girls passing by
the girls were beautiful
they had time to shine up
and the boys were proud
and i remember how we were, and they smiled at me
i remember the eyes through which, back then,
we looked at women like me
part of it was admiration to the mature age
mixed with feelings of non-relating
i remember the line from Kundera´s identity
¨men don´t turn to look at me anymore¨
and i get it
i finally understand
and i´m finally in peace with it
men don´t turn to look at me anymore
and i like it...

Monday, May 22, 2006

Under the third column at Park Guell
It is, oh i don´t know.. monday..tuesday..
i know it´s not the weekend
i know the keyboard here is really fucked up..
pepsi and cigarettes taste really bad in this country
they always do in a new country
this afternoon, i followed her with my eyes
i saw her go in and pick out some post cards with care
she came out again
picked a spot in the sun
and wrote down highlights from her trip
she wrote about her day and the day before
her little adventures and the observations and the dreams
she went over it again
under the third column
she caressed her hips
as she was reading
threw her cigarette out
picked up the card
and sealed it with a kiss
she didn´t have a stamp
she threw it in the mail box
with no stamps and no address
after all
she has nobody to write to...

Tuesday, May 16, 2006

Yalla shefnekon

Flying soon and all is packed (mainly the bikini and the camera). I’m off to a much needed, hopefully well deserved vacation. Starting with work in Germany but ending up in the land of milk and honey. I promise to check in and I promise pictures when I’m back. Gheir hek wassouneh.
Will miss you all.

Monday, May 15, 2006

Just Kickin' it...

(Peter Schmidt)
Colors of Old San Juan
Les comediens.

Lately I have been addicted to comedy shows. I like to catch my dinner over a stand-up. I do not enjoy the experienced comedians that perform at high profiled places like the comedy cellar, where John Stewart and Chris Rock performed not long ago. I mostly enjoy little joints that are advertised for by flyers on the street. Some of these aspiring entertainers are not so bad. Others though, are really not funny at all. I sit in the front chair hoping to be picked on and I plan on ways to deflect the flow of the joke. I never get picked though. I guess I look and act too plain as opposed to unmatched couples and obvious ethnic faces that provoke the politically incorrect jokes New York comedians feed on. I sit quietly and enjoy the misery of a comedian that is not clicking with the audience. It is such torture for the rest of the crowd to be watching a man stripped from his confidence on stage but I silently enjoy it. I look around and I see uncomfortable faces shying away and seeking distraction in their plates and their neighbors. I look the comedian straight in the eye and give him the deadest stare I can paste on. Every now and then I would blast into laughter and when I get his attention, I would look away. By then he’s completely unfocused and shook to the core in his performance. While he works the room building them up to get to the punch line, I call the waitress or tap on my glass with my nails. All while thinking how hard it must be. I know the feeling when you don’t get the favorable reaction from an audience. I could imagine how devastatingly tough it is to make people laugh. Standing there while getting blank looks could destroy a person, for the night at least.
I enjoyed it till I met him. He was very bad in his performance as well but he had a very gentle soul. As opposed to the ones that preceded him, he was very dignified and he handled the failure without any bitterness or apparent disappointment. He was frowning the entire time he was up there. And although this was meant to make you laugh, the words he said ceased to exist or make any purpose coming out of his melancholic appearance. I wondered why he went into this business in the first place. He does not look like a comedian; he looks like a worrier, a poet, a philosopher. I also wondered if people saw what I saw in him. I would expect not, they probably are not crazy. I kept trying to get his attention. I am staring at him, but that is expected, he is on the stage. Then I thought of those Geishas who are supposed to “stop a man in his track with one look”. I cannot get a man’s attention with 20 looks. Hell I bet he wouldn’t stop talking even if I flashed him now. He just kept going and kept talking in his monotonous sad voice. People were paying the bill by then and did not have the time to look at him. It still did not stop him. It was as if he talked to someone who wasn’t in the room. Now I was sad for him. I didn’t want him discouraged or destroyed. He is so noble and so sensitive. I looked around the room giving people dirty looks, trying to reprimand the behavior of the whole crowd. He ended his performance with a commercial joke that also landed flat. I came up to him and told him not to feel bad. I said it was a certain table or a part of the room that was too loud or too quiet and that it is not his fault. Then he asked “so you thought I was funny?” I was thinking “no, not particularly, not at all actually”. I said “yes, you were, they just killed your flow and your energy up there”. Then he said “so you want to make out baby?” I go “what? No!”
When will I stop building people up like that?

(painting: Dimitry Kedrin)

Sunday, May 14, 2006

Wait… what?

- Chéri, aucun train ne circule au delà de 17 heure le soir
- Oui, je te l’ai dit…

It seems that i will be stuck in Milan for a night..

Sunday cleaning…Cleaning up the traces…
Cleaning up my memory…
Things, smells, faces, feelings that stayed behind and will not leave…

Teta’s café au lait
My mom’s maroon velvet robe
Swimming with my dad
My first doll and my sister’s that I liked better
The smell of Jasmine as we walk in the afternoon
The word IDRAB and how happy it made us…
The smell of the beach on 3ein le mraysseh
The clicking noise of the dice while the men were playing
My dad’s old 3abdel wahhab records
A coffee cup upside down
Ka3ek we shay
Staying up most of the night telling each other scary stories
Salade nicoise at the Lycee Francais and madame Mazboudi
A car parked on the hill, wrapped in fog and the sound of his motorbike approaching..
A phone number that is no longer in use
My first cigarette that you handed to me
Fresh bread from osama on the corner
Ne na na na… and lunch at Nasr after the car wreck…
Ham and cheese salad from Varouj, scandals in the truck and beach towels on the front seat…
Sfee7a from baalbak and manousheh at 3anjar
Jet skiing in a sea full of jelly fish
Samak at Jbeil listening to Piaff with tante wafaa
Argeeleh under the 3areesheh….
A bouquet of flowers that was sent back…
A yellow rose and a pink rose on my seat in his car every morning…
My first valentine…
My first poem…
Listening to offspring with Tabbara full blast
Coloring eggs in roumieh and cutting your hair…
and AUB... well Hashem said it...

I’m so nostalgic today
A flashback triggered all this, yet, now I can’t remember what it was…
I know I’ll be there soon but I also know these things are gone forever…
Laila post another one of your pictures, will you?

To Mar

A transient glow
Hardly does justice
To the inner fire
Smoldering in our hearts.
Life continues
As a songbreaks
The sound barrier
And drips
Life-giving sap
To sustain
The precious breath
Attempting to stretch
From this life
To the next,
Beyond the
Tyranny of mortality.
I know why the heart cries,
But know not how,
How to comfort it;
I know where the pain lies,
But know not why,
Why it continues;
I know what lives and what dies
But know not who,
Who holds the ultimate key
To unlock the secret,
Silent salve for
Our wounded hearts.

(Yeou-Cheng Ma)
(pic: Dr. Richard K Bernstein)
Oh Happy Day!...

Kilauea Volcanic Crater, Big Island, Hawaii
Dr. Jayanta RoyChowdhury

(Dimitry Kedrin)

(Dr. Pamela Stanley)
Perfect Vision

Cell cycles and differentiation in the developing drosophila eye. Eye is labelled with antibodies against CyclinB, phospho Histone 3 (mitotic cells) and the neural antigen ElaV to stain for photoreceptors.
(Dr. Lucy Firth)

Saturday, May 13, 2006

The page next to last in my life..

I know I’ll have a great weekend. The weather is just perfect today. I’ve been walking around with this stupid smile all day. I will not miss this Saturday. I am going out.

I missed the Five Boro Bike Tour last Sunday over a paper deadline.
I missed the Yo-Yo Ma concert at the philharmonics yesterday. I had the ticket for 3 months now and I was really looking forward to go but I knew I would have to stay for this last minute experiment. I gave the ticket to a cellist friend of mine and I was happy to see how excited he was.
You see, I do have a great life, except I’m missing it.

Last summer, we spent a month preparing for this camping and white water rafting trip. I had made it once before with the group to what was a one day canoeing trip. This trip was supposed to be for a week. I had bought all what I needed for it. A (15) person tent, sleeping bags and an awesome grill. Aside from this trip, I don’t camp and I don’t grill. You guessed it, I missed it. Well it happened that fleet week was right before that weekend and I met Sebastian that week. The same week I missed my second date with Sebastian over a dinner on my boss’s yacht with some collaborators.
Sometimes I come through. Like Amjad would be dying to see a movie that just came out and I would be too busy for weeks at a time. A year later, I would rent the movie, after he had seen it at least 10 times, and cook him dinner.

Earlier this year, and due to increasing memory loss, I have made a habit to write down everything. I have my little note book in my purse which I take out several times a day. I would write down things that I need to note and appointments I need to add to my calendar, shopping list, the last page is always reserved for phone numbers. Later I started adding any little observation that I would find fascinating at the moment, some poetry lines, thoughts on how to make money, more on how to lose money and mostly ideas on how to torture people around me. The second to last page is why I started this habit in the first place and it was consecrated to things I want to do.

It started with upcoming little events and really silly things like learn how to wrap grape leaves. I would little by little achieve these goals. Another goal would be to learn all the train lines in Manhattan, which i still don't know. Or walk in the rain, I always wanted to do that. I’m afraid to catch a cold though, so one day. I would sometimes catch myself cheating and erasing goals that i did not achieve. Or would start writing down little excuses next to the event stating the very compelling reason that made me miss it. Then the list started building up into these little self-improvement tasks and these cease-the-day type of escapades that, in reality, we never have the time to do. My list goes something like: Take up Yoga, Learn Spanish, Italian and Japanese, move to Chelsea, organize CDs, start a recipe book, go sky diving, lose 20 pounds, live in Paris for a year, buy a car, buy a washer and a dryer, learn an instrument even if it’s going to kill you, learn to assemble the FRET filters on the microscope, finish those Tango lessons, lose 20 pounds…

Well, as you guessed by now, it didn’t work. So I do things in a very messy sloppy unorganized way. Some get done and some don't and probably never will be achieved. There's no use in getting neurotic over it. It is meant to be just for fun anyway, life I mean. If not this concert, another concert, another trip, another dish, another language, another man… I learned to keep going and it’s working out well…

Friday, May 12, 2006

Have a wonderful weekend!

(pic: Jayanta RoyChowdhury)

(Painter, Vivien Chevaleyre)

Thursday, May 11, 2006

A crescendo of aggression
My night routine

I write about past loves, never a current affair.
Not fair.
Never inspired by valleys or mountains, only love.
Haunting memories from the past
Daunting experiences today.
I write to purge but I succumb to the urge
of reliving you.
Ten past the hour and you’re with me every hour.
To mend the hurt, I say a silent prayer
From my heart to your heart
From the soul of my soul
But what will it repair…
Not fair.

The flock gathers no awakening and no change
In my repertoire
To reckon the price of despise
To wan the recurring demise
Is a strike of insanity
A pouring undiluted flood
Of culled images from here and there
A flickering pulse of strange reflections
Draped loss and sorrows in ascension
A rotten rose in my chilly ribs
Half past the hour
Emptiness ahead
A gray hair and not a day to spare
Not fair

Dust ravaging my essence
My limbs are aware of an absence
I lead a heavy existence, but I lead
And in new soils, I plant a seed…
I cannot foresee but I transform my thoughts
I deter my heart
My heart shall not take part
in my ruin
Wet road and many sunsets ahead
A lot to feel and sometimes to pretend
But to make the same mistake
Will leave of turmoil a great share
Not fair.

I wrap my senses in a purple hue
The fleeting hours remind me of you
Random visions woven from a face spawned
Flourished and fluttered and now
Ushered me to the turquoise dawn
My lashes curl under the first morning breeze
My mind suffers from words unspoken
I suffer and you sleep
And I leave you with a curse, beware
You may never see a night through
Without a speckle of my gloom
May your heart be in the air
May you roam the earth
For the tip of her dress
For a flair of her hair
May you be doomed
With love’s despair
It is only fair.
A new window

I am not—
opened or closed—
what you expected, o heart.
Or would you

without me have thought
to throw open
the flooding and roar,
to step through the lion’s gold pelt?
have thought that

the passionate glass is the body?
and this life, the one life you wanted?

meaning neither lacked,
nor desired,
but something else . . .
something closer
to how, when the two owl-lovers
begin their night singing
and all the black length of the woods
is held in those arms,
not one stone, not one leaf goes uncalling.
If I had been what you thought,

o heart,
how could the clear glass
flow as it does with mountains,
with jewel-colored, perishing fish?
flashing and falling,
the black-bright rain of beings and things?
Some recognizable, yours, but others—

too fleeting or large—
that cannot be spoken.
Though the one world touches the other

in every part, o heart,
in silence,
like new lovers taking their fill in the crowded dark.

*Jane Hirshfield*
(Pic; Pascal Beaudenon)

Wednesday, May 10, 2006

Fun Night...
Fun Day...

Tuesday, May 09, 2006

He said… I said...

You have been a part of our whispers
Started with a goodbye…

He said..
Am I bipolarly in love with you?

Well, I hope to never get through
this present mania with you.
But what about the others
in your life.. the lovers?
would you denounce them for me?
and then come away with me,
against all odds, we might be…

I said,
but you already have me
All of me
And no man will ever come close
It’s a game that they will lose
The biggest fall of all
Is when love turns to hate
We found the lost love
And this seems to be our fate
The world is too small for us two
I stay on my end and so should you

we've done all this before
and anyway
It has always been our way
to forever stay…
les enfants terribles!
Now what do you say?

We’ve done this before you say?
I already put in all I have

Some of it you took
And the rest you left ignored
My smiles that bounced on the floors
Moments of confusion,
when we lost the illusion
and a clock that skipped
and in my heart ripped
les enfants terribles
left une femme disponible
my past is no where to find..

We’ll get together by next spring
Without any bluebirds to sing,
no lemonades to drink in July
nor rivers to cross in style
without tears to waste
ships to sail,
or plays to play...

you want me to leave
leave my love
my opera house
my river of style
my birds in the sky
and a pass at play by play?
new york and i
we stay...

but you’re away
and you took away
your touch, crisp and wilting
in the midst of my dawn

your lasy tender pecks
watering my morning yawns
your shy skin dissolving

in a chuckle and a moan,
your warm breath quilting
the curves of my dunes
your mystical scent wrapping
my shivering lonely moon...
your silver rays enchanting
revolting my tidal foam..
come home
come soon...

(pic; Wilfrid Hoffacker)

I said it, yes I did..
Again and again,
Sneaking out
Pacing around
Sorry darling
You are not my goodnight kiss,
my morning prayer,
my fresh breeze,
you are not my unravelled dream
my eternal quest, my tease..
you lay behind my walls
while I burry the skeletons in my closet.
A new headache
I hear you breathing
And I hate that you’re sleeping
And I feel alone..
Alone with my screen
And a glass of wine
Sleep tight my darling…
I have yet to meet the arms
That will ease me through the night…
(pic; Vegas)
I'll show you my Lebanon...

Now show me yours.

Monday, May 08, 2006

Listen dear..

Soon enough you’ll have one
You will not believe your eyes
When in his, you see your loved one
An entity of yours under the sun
He will have your thrive for life
Your ambition and endless drive
He will have your walk
And will mimic the way you talk
He’ll have the sunshine in his hair
Your strong looks and your little snare
He’ll tilt his head to the right
Keep his chin up and his eyes bright
But he’ll be born in times of change
And just like, to us, our folks were strange
Your ipod will be his antique
He’ll teach you his new technique
To him you’re a thing of the past
A nature’s geek
You tell him about the old days
The ladies his old man had tamed
He tells you to spare him
He’s the man and he’s got game
You want to teach him to hunt and sail
On all your plans he will bail
You’ll lend him all you’ve learned
And through the years, you've earned
And you never know what the bets are
He’s a wild child,
but he’s yours
He’s more precious than your soul
Your pride, your home and your days
For him you would want to be
The best he could see
And you prepare yourself for a day
When you proudly give him away
To life..
You don’t want it to be
But they do design it this way
So before it’s due
Slow down child
Let life celebrate you…

Sunday, May 07, 2006

One more day..

Join us tomorrow night..
Passing for normal..

Black hair again, Lost card, Tribecca film festival, It waits, Comedy Cellar, and driving him home while intoxicated. I lost the brown string on my wrist. What a shame, i had it for years. I even have an indentation in my wrist where it used to be. It was a reminder. It must be a sign. 2 hours later. It seems I pulled a muscle. I can hardly stand. I’ll just hold on to the podium. What are these people looking at? Are they still listening to me? I stopped listening to myself. I’m exhausted, can they feel it while I fake my enthusiasm? I see the blank faces and the wandering eyes. She has a very permissive face, very kind, I’ll just focus on her. It’s half the time already, I should pick up the pace. 40 more slides to go. I can hardly make it. Stop thinking about all this. Who is this guy anyway? I have never seen him before. That drawing I made on the blackboard is still there. I wonder who this guy is. He came today to make me feel better, that’s all. He has the most encouraging smile, I like his smile. Did they get this last point I tried to make, I’ll repeat it. His message was so weird today. I’m in Beirut, are you coming? I wonder what he is talking about. This is the controversial part of the talk, I should sound surprised and speak abruptly now. Good Suzan woke up. I should keep playing with my tone so that she won’t give in to her usual snooze. What happens when this is over? One thing to the next obviously. Keeping busy and distracted. I saw him in my dream. I saw he had finally done it. I really hope he didn’t. I should check on him later. I wish she would stop shaking her leg. This is really annoying me. Who are these people? Show me the end of this. I’ll just look at the door and think about the end of it. What the fuck is she laughing about? Doesn’t matter. I’ll be over soon. Kevin Bacon is so hot. Why can’t I have a guy like him? Oh finally the door opens. It must be over. I’ll start thanking people now. I can’t wait till the next time...

(pic: drew it on my wall)

Saturday, May 06, 2006

Friday, May 05, 2006


When you cry,
I’ll jump to the sky
And come to you.
When you grow,
you will know
What I did for you.
And when you take your first step
I’ll be watching you
And when you pass your first test
I’ll cheer and tear
And a little more
And when you drive your first car
I’ll follow you
And when you fall in love the first time
I’ll pray it won’t be
too tough on you
And when she breaks your heart
I’ll vow to hunt her down
And a little more
And when you love the second time
I’ll pray she won’t use you
And when she does
I’ll hope she’ll lose you
And when you love the third time
I’ll make sure she loves you back
And when you look down
I’ll wipe your front and kiss your chin
And if you go too slow
I’ll give you a hint
I’ll give you the world
And a little more
I’ll tell you my stories
The ghosts of past glories
And you’ll laugh at my old age
And I’ll take your youth under my wing
I’ll give you the spring
And a little more
I want you to lose your mind for a dream
Lose your balance for a woman
Lose your address to the world
Live your life messy
But live
I want you to give
I want you to dance
I want you my pride and joy
And more

Wednesday, May 03, 2006

But i always smoke in bed..

Regrets are all i left on my lipstick stains
Take a picture of our past there in that ashtray
We had our fun, I used to light your flame
Like the dancing smoke that rose we tried to find our way
No one told me,
Your love's like one last cigarette
Last cigarette, I will savor it
The last cigarette
Take it in and hold your breath, hope it never ends
But when it's gone, it's gone
The last cigarette
Just to breathe reminds me of what used to be
The smoke's the ghost that keeps you close when
I can't sleep
Don't ask the past to last; it's about to change
The memories don't answer when I call your name
Your love's like one last cigarette
One last cigarette,
One I can't forget, the last cigarette
Right there at my fingertips, I got your taste still on my lips
Right or wrong
You're still gone, gone, gone

(Bon Jovi)
Goodnight my love...

Sleepless nights don't bother me at all
And if dawn comes
I won't worry
Something deep inside keeps me awake
I wish that you were here right beside me
I recall when I was very young
And I could not fall sleep
My father sang me songs to make me tired
But memories don't come so easily
So goodnight
Wherever you are sleeping
And I hope that if you dream you dream of me
Now I lie awake and it's no fun
I'm tossing and turning
I'd call you if it weren't so very late
But telephones won't bring you close to me
I recall the nights we stayed up late
Wide awake but still dreaming
There was nothing on this earth
That could make me tired
But memories don't come so easily
So goodnight
Goodnight my darling…

*Cliff Eberhardt*
(pic: Las Vegas)
One Last Word…

Did I disappoint you or let you down?
Should I be feeling guilty or let the judges frown?
'Cause I saw the end before we'd begun,
Yes I saw you were blind and I knew I had won.
So I took what's mine by eternal right.
Took your soul out into the night.
It may be over but it won't stop there,
I am here for you if you'd only care.
Goodbye my lover.
Goodbye my friend.
You have been the one.
You have been the one for me

*James blunt*
(Nuit etoilee, Van Gogh)
And i wrote for you today..

You already have me
All of me
And no man will ever come close
It’s a game they will lose
The biggest fall of all
Is when love turns to hate
We found the lost love
And this seems to be our fate
The world is too small for us two
I stay on my end and so should you
I already put in all I have
Some of it you took
And the rest you left ignored
My smiles that bounced on the floors
Moments of confusion,
when we lost the illusion
and a clock that skipped
and in my heart ripped
les enfants terribles
left une femme disponible
my past is no where to find..
you want me to leave
leave my love
my opera house
my river of style
my birds in the sky
and a pass at play by play?
new york and i
we stay
For now…
Mais Jamais...

Non! Rien de rien ...
Non ! Je ne regrette rien
Ni le bien qu'on m'a fait
Ni le mal tout ça m'est bien égal !
Non ! Rien de rien ...
Non ! Je ne regrette rien...
C'est payé, balayé, oublié
Je me fous du passé!

Avec mes souvenirs
J'ai allumé le feu
Mes chagrins, mes plaisirs
Je n'ai plus besoin d'eux !
Balayés les amours
Et tous leurs trémolos
Balayés pour toujours
Je repars à zéro ...

Non ! Rien de rien ...
Non ! Je ne regrette nen ...
Ni le bien, qu'on m'a fait
Ni le mal, tout ça m'est bien égal !

Non ! Rien de rien ...
Non ! Je ne regrette rien ...
Car ma vie, car mes joies
Aujourd'hui, ça commence avec toi !

*Edith Piaff*
(Pic, Nobska lighthouse, Cape Cod)
I have never been loved..

Quite the way you love me,
Even our tree blushed
At the sound of your whispers...

Borrowed from the master,
"Let me not to the marriage of true minds
Admit impediments. Love is not love
Which alters when it alteration finds,
Or bends with the remover to remove:
O no! it is an ever-fixed mark
That looks on tempests and is never shaken;
It is the star to every wandering bark,
Whose worth's unknown, although his height be taken.
Love's not Time's fool, though rosy lips and cheeks
Within his bending sickle's compass come:
Love alters not with his brief hours and weeks,
But bears it out even to the edge of doom.
If this be error and upon me proved,
I never writ, nor no man ever loved."

(Shakespeare, sonnet 116)
He wouldn't waste a tear on you..

"..Girls don't cry for Louie
Louie wouldn't cry for you
When you walk the streets for Louie
You better do what Louie tells you to.."

Tuesday, May 02, 2006

A Silver Blade Babe?

A turn of the key
And the door is pushed open, now
He walks into the room
But doesn't take off his coat
Kisses me softly
Without saying a word, now
There's that look in his eys
That makes me feel the cold
When I try to find out
'Bout what's troubling his mind
He turns away and sights
And says: 'give me some time"
Maybe things will get better
If I learn to be patient
What I wanted was love not an imitation
And I know it
We're heading for a fall

We lie between sheets
And he stares at the ceiling now
Me, I'm trying to sleep
But I'm trembling inside
If she is haunting his dreams
Then why don't he say it now?
Why stay if it's her that he wants in the end? I
f he tried to explain I'd try to understand
Maybe I'd feel the same
I'm not sure of myself
We surrendered so soon
In the arms of temptation, now
What I wanted was love not an imitation

And I know it
We're heading for a fall..

(vaya con dios)
What am i without you?

What's a woman when a man
Don't stand by her side?
What's a woman when a man
Has secrets to hide?

She'll be weak
She'll be strong
Struggle hard
For so long

What's a woman when a man
(What's a man wihtout a woman?)
Don't go by the rule?
What's a woman when a man
(What's a men without a woman?)
Makes her feel like a fool?

When right
Turns to wrong
She will try
To hold on to the ghosts of the past
When love was to last
Dreams from the past
Faded so fast
All alone
In the dark
She will swear
He'll never mislead her again

All those dreams from the past
Faded so fast
Ghosts of the past
When love was to last
All alone
In the dark
She will swear cross her heart
Never again

Cross my heart
Never again...

Vaya Con Dios
(pic: Wilfrid Hoffacker)
Alors c'est la comedie..

Quand Elle Rit Aux Eclats
Elle se déhanche, s'avance, se penche
Rousse, provocante, elle te mate, elle te vampe
Toi, tu sais déjà, qu'il n'y aura plus qu'elle
Son corps, sa voix qui t'ensorcellent
Tu ne vois pas qu'elle t'epie, qu'elle te guette
Quand, avec d'autres, elle rit aux eclats
Fatale, elle se peme, t'alarme, te desarme
S'appuie sur ton epaule, s'accroche a tes paroles
Toi, tu crois deja qu'elle chancelle et chavire
Quand, alanguie, elle fremit et soupire
Tu ne comprends pas qu'elle est
de celles qui charment
Avec leur corps et sans leur ame
Elle se dehanche, s'avance, se penche
Frivole, elle papilonne,
se pose et puis s'envole
Toi, tu sens deja ton coeur qui se lezarde
Tu donnerais tout pour qu'elle s'attarde
Tu n'imagines pas q'elle l'epie,qu'elle le guette
Quand, avec toi, elle rit aux eclats
Tu ne vois pas le piege
qui fera voler ton coeur aux eclats...

(Vaya con dios)
And our song...

Pour ne pas vivre seul
On vit avec un chien
On vie avec des roses
ou avec une croix

Pour ne pas vivre seul
On's fait du cinéma
On aime un souvenir
une ombre, n'importe quoi

Pour ne pas vivre seul
On vit pour le printemps
et quand le printemps meurt
pour le prochain printemps
Pour ne pas vivre seule
Je t'aime et je t'attends
pour avoir l'illusion
de ne pas vivre seule
de ne pas vivre seule

Pour ne pas vivre seul
des filles aiment des filles
et l'on voit des garçons
épouser des garçons
Pour ne pas vivre seul
D'autres font des enfants
des enfants qui sont seuls
comme tous les enfants

Pour ne pas vivre seul
On fait des cathédrales
où tous ceux qui sont seuls
s'accrochent à une étoile
Pour ne pas vivre seul
Je t'aime et je t'attends
pour avoir l'illusion
de ne pas vivre seul

Pour ne pas vivre seul
On se fait des amis
et on les réunit
quand vient les soirs d'ennui
On vit pour son argent
ses rêves, ses palaces
mais on a jamais fait
un cercueil à deux places
Pour ne pas vivre seul
Moi je vis avec toi
je suis seule avec toi
tu es seul avec moi

Pour ne pas vivre seul
On vit comme ceux qui veulent
se donner l'illusion
de ne pas vivre seul

I sing it today for you…
(picture: Dalida’s grave in cimetiere de Montmartre, Paris, France. Taken in 2000)
Nostalgie Du Jour Present....

j’ai peur de te toucher
Je ne peux pas le cacher.
Pas de moi, non pas de toi.
Soifs, sèches et brûlés.
Mes cheveux s’épuisent sous la faute de tes caresses.
Mes lèvres s’enflamment s’ils pensent aux tiens.
Mes émotions se brisent lors de ta vue.
Prends-moi mon seigneur.
De toute la force que tu peux
Tiens-moi, ne me perds jamais
Je voudrais mourir dans tes bras.
Boire de ta sueur,
Découvrir tes secrets,
Te donner le bonheur…

Et c’est quoi le bonheur ?
Si je rêve chaque nuit
Et je ne me souviens pas de mes rêves..
J’ai peur de t’avoir, pour ne pas te perdre.
Il me parait que je suis folle..
Il me parait que je meurs en toi
Je meurs de toi…
Je ne veux pas mourir, je ne veux pas t’aimer !
Vas-t’en, respectes mes peines
Ne me demandes jamais si je t’aime,
Ne me demandes jamais d’oublier la haine
Laisses-moi aimer de nouveau avant de connaître l’amour.
Laisses-moi te toucher de nouveau
Je veux savoir comment tu te sens
J’ai peu essayer et peu vivre…

Je suis perdue mon amour
La distance entre mon corps et ton cœur
Le désire me laisse seule
Je cherche mon identité, ma religion,
Mon amour, mes sentiments,
Sans les trouver…
Je plonge dans le désespoir
Sans avoir le pouvoir de me sauver.
C’est seulement chez tes yeux que je reste,
J’adore ton visage,
Pourquoi disparais-tu avant que je puisse te sentir ?
Te caresser ?
Te faire étouffer dans mes bras si doux ?
Noyer dans mes yeux si malins ?
Tu n’as jamais le droit de refuser mon amour
Tu ne peux pas me refuser avant de m’accepter
Tu ne peux pas m’empêcher de respirer…

Maître, si seulement je pourrais t’emprisonner en moi.
Si seulement je me laisse tranquille.
Mais, jamais je ne pourrai fuir tes yeux
Je cours éternellement, et je n’arrive jamais.
Avez-vous vécu mes peines ?
Je ne le crois pas
Sais-toi que je ne peux pas te regarder ?
Sans être tuée..
Tu m’avais appris l’amour.
La sincérité, je l’ai perdue,
Je suis attachée à un mot
Une sourire
Je peux attendre à jamais.
Je vois le bonheur, la beauté tout autour de toi,
Où je rêve,
Où je vis.
Je suis abandonnée avant d’être aimée,
Et je me tourmente, et je l’aime
Et je peine de toi.
Arrêtes de fuir, je respire par ta présence
Je m’inspire par ton absence.
Je manque ma vie quand tu fuis,
Je regarde ta photo,
Nuit et jour,
Mon amour,
En attendant que tu parles.
Je te vois bouger, me regarder.
J’en ai assez…
Les feuilles, les crayons, mes doigts sont épuises,
Quand ils me voient désespérée.
Besoin de toi,
Je ne le dénie pas
Amour c’est tout ce que je peux donner,
Veuillez l’accepter
C’est tout ce que j’en ai besoin
Pour continuer.

Mon homme
Mon héro
Mon chevalier blanc,
Viens, n’aie pas peur
Viens brûler mon lit
Casser le froid de mon corps
Enflammer mon âme.
Entends-le chanter, seigneur
Crier, crier d’amour et de peine.
Viens éclairer ma route.
Danses avec moi chéri,
Prends-moi dans tes bras
J’ai le droit de vivre
De respirer de nouveau.
Je veux sentir de nouveau vivante
Je veux sentir femme a jamais.
Je te voix déjà
Seulement toi
Nous avons danse toute la nuit,
Tu m’as prise, tu m’avais donnée des ailes,
Et on a danse…
Au dessus des nuages on a danse,
Dieu nous bénit
Nous avons casse les barrières
Dépasse les limites
Et les frontières

Ne pleure pas mon cœur,
Et même s’il est loin de vue
Il est toujours tellement proche
Qu’il est seulement a toi.
Je te cache dans mon cœur
La pitié, c’est du passe
La dignité, ça ne sert a rien.
Tant que je t’aime
Tu restes le roi de mes rêves
Le Dieu de mes temples
Et la raison pour exister
A jamais….

(Written for you in 1999, on my birthday)

M’ami, être infidèle n’est pas une qualité a toi
Lorsque je te cherche,
Tu coules à l’infini
Lorsque je brise le froid qui nous unit
Tu me délasses
Mon petit tu violes mon intimité
Et tu jettes notre amitié..
L’amour n’est pas à apprendre
C’est une existence.
La vie aux jeux de cordes
C’est de la défiance
Et tu brûles la dernière corde
Qui nous unit..
Ami, lors je flotte, tu plonges,
Lors je marche, tu voles..
Pour toi, l’amitié est une race
Pour moi, c’est l’art de donner lui-même
Alors pourquoi te donner sans rien avoir
Même si je t’aime tant
Apprends-moi à être indifférente
Comme tu le peux si magnifiquement..
Si froide, si mélancolique, ma vie est sans toi,
Si précieuse et si fragile mon cœur près de toi.
Laisses-moi vivre l’amour,
Donnes-moi la chance de te défier
Ne me battes pas dans un domaine que j’en ai peur
Ne me laisses pas payer tes fautes
Et vivre ta solitude.
Pourtant, je m’attache a toi
J’ai peur de te laisser
J’ai honte si tu vas aller
Et j’arrête de respire
C’est ma faute que tu m’as blesse
C’est toi qui peux me sauver
Me sauver de toi…

Ca me tue
Tu ne sais pas ce que tu fais
Et tu vis aux contes des fées
Audacieux comme la mer
Fatale comme les hommes
Perdu comme un enfant
Alors, restes sans défenses
Et à chaque amour, vas prendre les chances

Lors je flotte, tu plonges
Lors je marche, tu voles

N’offres-moi pas les choses perdus,
Notre jeunesse, nos gens, et les temps..
Les soirées les plus tristes,
Les rythmes et les histoires des pistes,
Les mémoires perdus,
Des souvenirs qui m’accablent
Mon passe qui m’emprisonne
Et mon présent qui me fuit
Tu es tellement grand
Que tu ne pas couler

De ta rose chérie

(Written to you in 1998)
(pic: Wilfrid Hoffacker)
Je n'ai plus de larmes a toi..

Je n’ai plus de larmes a toi,
C’est mon cœur qui pleure cette fois,
Sure les pages de mes échecs, me voila,
M’étaler avec tant de prudence et de las…
Surtout je fuis, quand d’autres pressent les pas,
Et j’ai marre de toi,
Je vais casser tes chaînes futiles,
Et je t’aime,
Qui es-tu ?
Es-tu a moi ?
Tu es pour ceux qui rêvent,
Je ne te mérite pas
Je me porte si lourde ce matin la
Comme un vieux bateau sans mats
Une vieille femme a voix si sombre
Et bon,
Je suis monotone,
J’ai essayé longtemps
A vivre des passes temps
Mais je suis une femme ardente
Qui prend la vie par les dents
Je suis une femme amoureuse
Et alors que faire maintenant ?
Les jours vides qui passent
Comme des carapaces
Sur mon corps blanc

Je n’ai plus de larmes a toi
Je ne sais plus a qui écrire et de quoi
Vous, mon homme,
Tu fais du mal
A chaque fois
Et je rentre
Faute de vie et de foi
Je rentre…
Pour être la femme, abaissée
Alors cessez
Cessez de marcher sur ma peau
Et laisse moi brûler les feuilles
Mon petit garçon, n’aie pas peur
Il y aura toujours d’autres
Alors n’apprends pas comment haïr
Aie la chance de jaillir
Les rimes de nouveau
Des châteaux forts
Non, des châteaux de sable et de la fumée blanche
Cette fumée qui me tue, mais..
Ce n’est que l’histoire de ma vie

Je n’ai plus de larmes pour toi,
Mais mon cœur pleure comme un enfant
Il pleure
Sa sueur est comme le miel
Dieu l’a crée belle
Mais moi je reste a toi
Je suis la blague du temps
Je suis fatiguée
Alors aie pitié
Laisses-moi aller
Verses mon âme sur le papier
Je n’ai plus d’âme
Je suis une dame noire
Et j’écris n’importe
Les ailes du destin

Je n’ai plus de larmes en moi
Pour toi, c’est mon cœur qui bat
Bat d’amour et d’ete
L’ete des yeux chaleureux
Je t’aime monsieur…

(wrote it for you in 1996)
(pic. my second picasso attempt far left)

Monday, May 01, 2006

Forgive me my love...

que seas muy feliz
estes donde estes cariño
no me importa que ya
no vuelvas jamas conmigo

Deseo mi amor
que sepas tambien que te amo
que no te olvide, que nunca podré,
te extraño.........

Que seas muy feliz
que encuentres amor, mi vida
que nunca mi amor,
te digan adios un dia

perdoname mi amor
por todo el tiempo que te ame te
hice daño....
te amé de mas y fue mi error
que soledad , estoy sin ti, lo estoy
que seas muy feliz, que seas muy feliz...........
mientras que yo, Te sigo amando....

Deseo mi amor,
que sepas tambien
que te amo,
que no te olvide
que nunca podre, te extraño

perdoname mi amor
por todo el tiempo que te amé
te hize daño
te amé de mas y ese fue mi error
que soledad, estoy sin ti, lo estoy

que seas muy feliz, que seas muy feliz,
mientras que yo...........te sigo amando..

*Juan Gabriel*

You've changed
The sparkle in your eyes is gone
Your smile is just a careless yawn
You're breaking my heart
You've changed..

You've changed
Your kisses now are so blasé
You're bored with me in every way
I can't understand
You've changed..

You've forgotten the words I love you
And the memories that we've shared
You've ignored all the stars up above you
I can't realize that you ever cared
You've changed..

You're not the angel
I once knew
No need to tell me,
I know we're through
It's all over now
You've changed..

You've forgotten the words
I love you
And the memories that we've shared
You ignore all the stars up above you
I can't realize that you ever cared
You've changed...
You've changed...

*Joni Mitchell*
(painting, The Day After, Edvard Munch, 1894-5)

To him...
Goodbye, no use leading with our chins
This is where our story ends: never lovers, ever friends
Goodbye, let our hearts call it a day
But before you walk away, I sincerely want to say

I wish you bluebirds in the spring to give your heart a song to sing
And then a kiss, but more than this -I wish you love
And in july a lemonade to cool you in some leafy glade
I wish you health, but more than wealth-I wish you love

My breaking heart and I agree that you and I could never be
So, with my best, my very best, I set you free

I wish you shelter from the storm, a cozy fire to keep you warm
But most of all, when snowflakes fall - I wish you love
I wish you love...

(pic: Wilfrid Hoffacker)