Oh, long time no see, again. My dearest, I've been ill since new years eve and it is not until now that I can bring myself to get back here. But no worries, I've been following you as always. You all, you made my days.It is a lot easier to get better when there are such lovely persons to read about. All my love to you..
Life is back to pretty much normal. As I said, I've been ill and I've spent most of my time in bed. My boy came over almost every night to say goodbye. Sometimes he brought his guitar and I fell asleep while listening to his voice. It was perfect, maybe that is why it took me so long to get better, I enjoyed those moments a little to much.
I almost forgot to tell you about my new years, I think I have to tell you in the next post. It was very decadent and suiting for the location. He took me to the most amazing place ever and we spent a magical evening together. But more of that next time.
Love,
A
2012-01-26
2011-12-29
Happy holidays
Happy holidays lovers. Christmas eve in France.
Empty bottles of champagne. Old wooden floors punctuated by high heels throughout Christmas dances. When I was little I used to hide behind the two large glass doors that made the entrance to the parlour. There I could admire the wonderful skirts that twirled around the room to the rhythms of old jazz. The men were tall and handsome. The women beautiful with pale skin and blood red lips. Their diamonds made reflections of the sun on the walls, through the lights from thousands of candles. This Christmas was filled of that old jazz and dad poured whiskey from the old crystal carafe I love so much. He served endless amounts of macrons and sang to me with closed eyes. I dried empty three bottles of champagne myself and hummed all night.
When the party had died, all the presents had been unwrapped and all the guests were either in their guest beds or long gone home, I took the last bottle and emptied the tray with macrons. Danced to myself while humming. Then I fell asleep on the floor and dreamt about the Parisian sky and C and the sunrise and him and more champagne. It was quite a silent holy day. To be honest.
Empty bottles of champagne. Old wooden floors punctuated by high heels throughout Christmas dances. When I was little I used to hide behind the two large glass doors that made the entrance to the parlour. There I could admire the wonderful skirts that twirled around the room to the rhythms of old jazz. The men were tall and handsome. The women beautiful with pale skin and blood red lips. Their diamonds made reflections of the sun on the walls, through the lights from thousands of candles. This Christmas was filled of that old jazz and dad poured whiskey from the old crystal carafe I love so much. He served endless amounts of macrons and sang to me with closed eyes. I dried empty three bottles of champagne myself and hummed all night.
When the party had died, all the presents had been unwrapped and all the guests were either in their guest beds or long gone home, I took the last bottle and emptied the tray with macrons. Danced to myself while humming. Then I fell asleep on the floor and dreamt about the Parisian sky and C and the sunrise and him and more champagne. It was quite a silent holy day. To be honest.
2011-12-08
the beginning of everything else
I spent months in Paris. Drank red wine in the morning, drank even more in the afternoon. C taught me how to make french pastries and so that was what we did. For hours we then sat on the roof, sipping red wine while we ate it all up. On Sundays we traded the red for bubbles and gave the sweets away to the neighbours boy. It was comfortable, life weren't too hard at that time..
Then at some point we got restless, needed more. We left the apartment and started wandering the streets. We found secret after parties, slept in public places, made love at a club and discovered where to go when nothing else welcomes you. At this time, there were only two of us left. He'd gone back home, had some things to take care of. He told me to keep on living my summer dream and hold onto it as long as it lasted. Then come back home. Well, that was harder than I thought it'd be..
2011-11-30
would you still have me, darlings?
It was all black. For another thousands of years, it would continue to be black..
That was the feeling I had when the summer ended, and it was still there when the autumn started. And now, when winter's here, I suddenly feel like the cotton swimming around in my head are starting to drop out. Letters are starting to put words together, thoughts come easier and tend to stay for a whole second. I've been woken up again, I'm here again, and oh how I missed you all.
Love,
A
2011-07-16
and I was the neediest bitch in the room
So we flew away. And he fed me take out on the floor, stroke my hair and held my hand. The three of us took over the nights in Paris, listening to Louise Attaque all night long while emptying endless bottles of wine. We smoked cigarettes, forgot that we ever had voices and joined in a silent humming. Life was good and I felt safe. Yet I couldn't write it down, I couldn't say it out loud - I was stuck in a fantasy and we all know that those tend to slip away as soon as we make them public. I was happy as ever, still something was missing..
I stopped eating, had an exclusive relation with cigarettes and wine. Started again after too many disappointed looks from him. There were never any arguments, just the looks in his eyes and the times he turned away and disappeared into the night "to think".. I messed up and was minutes away from loosing it all. So I picked myself up from the street, with the help of my two big loves, my lovers in silk. And together we played the charade of life, still trying to figure out the lines, but it is always less hard when three sharing..
I stopped eating, had an exclusive relation with cigarettes and wine. Started again after too many disappointed looks from him. There were never any arguments, just the looks in his eyes and the times he turned away and disappeared into the night "to think".. I messed up and was minutes away from loosing it all. So I picked myself up from the street, with the help of my two big loves, my lovers in silk. And together we played the charade of life, still trying to figure out the lines, but it is always less hard when three sharing..
2011-06-12
just what I needed
I told him I had to get away, get out. I said it in pain, after a bottle of wine, didn't think that he listened. Yet, when the weekend came I found my bags, packed, next to the door. He carried them out to the car, with a mysterious smile. He put a scarf in my hair, and we drew to the airport, cab down. He knows what a sucker I am for cliches.
After a few hours.. we celebrated with bubbly wine so I lost track of time.. I found myself standing outside Cs door in Paris. She opened the door, took me in her arms and kissed me on the cheeks. Then she kissed my other love and showed him around in the apartment. It was the first time he had come to Paris with me, it was the first time they had ever met. Yet, somehow, it felt like we had always been there. Like the three of us, always lived together in Paris and that there were never a sea disconnecting us from each other...
After a few hours.. we celebrated with bubbly wine so I lost track of time.. I found myself standing outside Cs door in Paris. She opened the door, took me in her arms and kissed me on the cheeks. Then she kissed my other love and showed him around in the apartment. It was the first time he had come to Paris with me, it was the first time they had ever met. Yet, somehow, it felt like we had always been there. Like the three of us, always lived together in Paris and that there were never a sea disconnecting us from each other...
2011-05-24
Tuesday is fun day
Darlings. The sky turned grey and screamed out my name today. The apartment shivered and I searched for my cigarettes, they were nowhere to be found. Empty bottles in a line, all the way down the hallway to the bathroom. Empty bottles, dried out. No more soul, no more fun. Now is the time where we rest in each others arms. We get naked and expose our hearts during blurry nights à la woodstock, at least that's what they told me I did. Do we trust them? Can we? Love is all around and mother is keeping watch. I miss C and everything is upside down. Should I stay or should I go?
2011-05-21
balcony blues
I missed you. I missed grapes, well mostly liquid ones. I missed guitar play, the balcony blues we had every Wednesday night. I missed having my fingers feel your shivering body. And I missed being one, two of the same kind, bound together by transparent thoughts and see-through skin. But now you're back. You know you have to teach me how to breath every time you're away, so why leave at all?
My heart was away, and then he came back. I am so lucky he's got that habit, it kinda makes me complete. Flickering, while he unbuttons my dress. Every time. Need of a pause, to catch my breath, in between kisses on the neck. Slowly arranging my limbs in place, posing, before he looks at me through the lens. I missed him.
I missed you too darlings. It just seem so hard these days..
My heart was away, and then he came back. I am so lucky he's got that habit, it kinda makes me complete. Flickering, while he unbuttons my dress. Every time. Need of a pause, to catch my breath, in between kisses on the neck. Slowly arranging my limbs in place, posing, before he looks at me through the lens. I missed him.
I missed you too darlings. It just seem so hard these days..
2011-04-27
not what it used to be
Cravings. An urge for sentiments. To feel things. Lately it seems like I have been locked inside a closet, no communication either ways. I have been a plastic flower, a painting on the wall, a forgotten framed dead kept away on some dusty shelf somewhere in a room where no one ever goes. I tried wine, tried to smoke 11 cigarettes in a row, tried to bury myself under thousands of layers of silk, tried to read the classics - dream and fantasize about a world beyond mine. But nothing worked. It just left me with a pounding headache and no food in my body. An uncontrollable search for life and death. Questions constantly filling my head and mind. A need to know why and why and why. Is that the reward of this emotional anorexia?
2011-04-18
Troubled while the spring arrived
The sun is forcing life to be easier. That is what everyone says, right? As soon as the light is around, we will all manage. And if we don't, we can't blame it on the regular winter depression. On the other hand, the green tempt us to drown our sorrows as the cliches says during all the spare time we can find. That should make it easier. Well, I have to admit that the balcony is inviting us to live the life more often now than it did just a few weeks ago. But the question is, does it solve our problems? Does it really hurt less? I think I can still feel the heart pounding in my chest, still feel awkward et mal placée..
2011-04-15
when was it... ever?
Watching the sun rise over the ceilings, golden shimmer all over town. No sleep needed, no eye lid heavy enough it seems. Can't blame the wine, the party, the music. It all ended hours ago. Like 28 hours ago. Still, no sleep, no rest. My head is heavy, but never heavy enough. Restless legs, half asleep, half dancing. Arms hurt, have been holding the same pose too long. Since.. was it yesterday? When did I move the last time? Time to get the morning paper I guess, I wonder if they have some from the last days left..
2011-03-31
home is..
Back home. Felt an urgent need to be me. I left my french alter ego at the airport and with her, the smell of croissants, wine traces leading back to our front door, piles of champagne corks and the forehead kiss C gave me before walking out the door. I then called him and went over to his place, he was having a party tonight he explained. I thought, what place is better to be alive than in of those pictures.. Bodies moving to unheard lyrics, liquid levels shrinking outside, rising inside. Under control. I always carry around straws in my handbag.
Spent several hours staring in to the sun, next to his warm shadow, and when the sun fell asleep the candles continued to cause stains on my retinas..
Spent several hours staring in to the sun, next to his warm shadow, and when the sun fell asleep the candles continued to cause stains on my retinas..
2011-03-21
last chance
it is cold. I am leaving. c forced my ankles to stay for an hour. too numb to feel the fire near my lips, too distracted to hear the screams. is this for real?
just like he sang - every gun you held went off, therefore I have to leave you know. meanwhile the others is counting your breaths, we were never enough..
just like he sang - every gun you held went off, therefore I have to leave you know. meanwhile the others is counting your breaths, we were never enough..
2011-03-14
paris says..
At a party. C is queen. In control, wearing silk, shimmering. All the girls wear clumsy wedges. Not a stiletto in sight. Where are we? Me, in control, in the corner, alone. Out on the floor - no control.
A girl smokes golden cigarettes in the window sill. She painted them. I can see a little spot she missed, right next to her pinkie. That's right, she holds them between her pinkie and ring finger.
A boy comes out from the kitchen with a silver tray. Foie gras and something that looks like flour. Does he want to brag? Does he live here? C walks up to him and says, with a british accent:
- That really looks like poop, referring to the foie gras.
The boy looks offended. And so she is the center of attention. Who is the silk queen from far away? Poor boy.
Paris makes me scream. No need for the good-girl-charade. In the circle shaped room, in what corner can I hide?
A girl smokes golden cigarettes in the window sill. She painted them. I can see a little spot she missed, right next to her pinkie. That's right, she holds them between her pinkie and ring finger.
A boy comes out from the kitchen with a silver tray. Foie gras and something that looks like flour. Does he want to brag? Does he live here? C walks up to him and says, with a british accent:
- That really looks like poop, referring to the foie gras.
The boy looks offended. And so she is the center of attention. Who is the silk queen from far away? Poor boy.
Paris makes me scream. No need for the good-girl-charade. In the circle shaped room, in what corner can I hide?
2011-03-07
don't fucking tell me what to do
Paris is thrilling, noisy and forbidden. We have left the apartment and spent days and nights in the streets, bars, anonymous apartments et cetera.. C smiled twice yesterday, like really smiled. Inside out. Sincerely. It made me warm inside. Her family isn't too happy about having her running around like this - but she knows how to handle it. She might be thin as a stick but her mouth and fists can force anyone to do anything. Don't mess with the anorectics I learned yesterday..
Pont Mirabeau:
Breath regularly Aurélie, but small amounts of oxygen each time. Because they will make you pay for it.
Few bottles of wine and suddenly she sees clear. You just have to love her.
Pont Mirabeau:
Breath regularly Aurélie, but small amounts of oxygen each time. Because they will make you pay for it.
Few bottles of wine and suddenly she sees clear. You just have to love her.
2011-03-02
travel-pass
Packed my bags. Went to comfort C in another part of this world..
C has her own apartment. A deal made with her mother, some sort of growing up strategy - still she is living in the building next to her. The apartment is filled with mirrors in big, ancient golden frames. Ironic since C hates the image of herself. I walk through the spacious corridor that is the centre of her home. Enter the living room area. Everywhere I turn I can see notes up on the walls. C follows my eyes. Therapy thing, she mumbles.
I traded one balcony for another. One love for another. We sit together, smoking. Not talking. No need of words. She holds her teacup with both hands, they have the same color as eggshells. Her hands that is. I observe. Her body trembles. But her hands are still. Her bruised collarbones, fragile smile expose her, she is not well. Yet, she is better than the last time I saw her. That makes me glad.
We spend the morning on that balcony. Sharing cigarettes, a tea pot. In her company there is always too much smoking, never enough eating. It feels relieving though. A man is staring at us from his window across. C waves and gives him of one her juvenile smiles. It's the time, of the season, for loving..
C has her own apartment. A deal made with her mother, some sort of growing up strategy - still she is living in the building next to her. The apartment is filled with mirrors in big, ancient golden frames. Ironic since C hates the image of herself. I walk through the spacious corridor that is the centre of her home. Enter the living room area. Everywhere I turn I can see notes up on the walls. C follows my eyes. Therapy thing, she mumbles.
I traded one balcony for another. One love for another. We sit together, smoking. Not talking. No need of words. She holds her teacup with both hands, they have the same color as eggshells. Her hands that is. I observe. Her body trembles. But her hands are still. Her bruised collarbones, fragile smile expose her, she is not well. Yet, she is better than the last time I saw her. That makes me glad.
We spend the morning on that balcony. Sharing cigarettes, a tea pot. In her company there is always too much smoking, never enough eating. It feels relieving though. A man is staring at us from his window across. C waves and gives him of one her juvenile smiles. It's the time, of the season, for loving..
2011-02-26
I am a rock
Sitting on his balcony. Wrapped up in three layers of fleece. We're sitting on the floor, hiding from the icy winds. In front of us, a sea of candles. My throat is sore, too much smoke has passed down there the latest hours. His fingers are too cold to play the guitar, mine to cold to handle le tire-bouchon. Next to us, a bowl filled with hot water - no one likes the red too cold..
His silhouette in the light of the playful flames, with a curtain of smoke. Like a dragon, silver smoke sips through his nostrils. Warm breath, glittering eyes. I like solitude. But tonight, I am glad not to be alone. For the first time, I think I appreciate him the way I should. A rock to depend on.
2011-02-21
mess
The twinkling glimpse of a catastrophe. Before it hits you, you realise that you are already in the middle of it. Start crawling, no need of turning back when you got death on your side, ready to let you taste of his wine.
This is how it always ends. One little situation creates tons of emotions, places thoughts in my head. Thoughts impossible to get rid of. A chaos created by an emotional storm inside of me. Such a vital state of mind though. Without it, I don't think I would be able to feel passionate about other things. Comfortable, saved. It is a grey zone. Forbidden to talk about out loud. Not really accepted. But is it not like this, that after the time we spent feeling anxious and misplaced - all other feelings are welcomed and experienced as uncomplicated and so much more clear?
All I know for fact is that I'm so exhausted for walking around with all these thoughts, too heavy to bear, too heavy to deal with. I just don't know what to do with it all. How do you do it?
This is how it always ends. One little situation creates tons of emotions, places thoughts in my head. Thoughts impossible to get rid of. A chaos created by an emotional storm inside of me. Such a vital state of mind though. Without it, I don't think I would be able to feel passionate about other things. Comfortable, saved. It is a grey zone. Forbidden to talk about out loud. Not really accepted. But is it not like this, that after the time we spent feeling anxious and misplaced - all other feelings are welcomed and experienced as uncomplicated and so much more clear?
All I know for fact is that I'm so exhausted for walking around with all these thoughts, too heavy to bear, too heavy to deal with. I just don't know what to do with it all. How do you do it?
2011-02-15
from the past
So I must go to France. Of course. It will do you some good, my mother told me. Yet I heard the fear in her voice. Whenever I visit my father, she is worried that I might not come home. It is strange and we have been discussing it for years, still it's just the way she is. C is stable, her mother called last night. Anxious woman with a high-pitched voice. She once told us that when she was young she tried to make it darker by drinking a lot of whisky. Then she understood, her face turned crimson red and she left us with our mouths open. She is a lovely lady, that's for sure.
So my booked tickets made me dig in my wardrobe, and I found treasures. Old photo albums. My father is a photographer, meaning I have every minute of my life from France memorised in thousands of photos. In our old house he had a installed a dark room in one of our walk-in-closets. So there is not only a lot of photos taken, there are a lot of photos developed. Result - hundreds of albums. Invaluable for me. I have always been a sucker for the written word, for the illustrated images.
Found one of her. Fathers wife that is. From one of the parties in the old house. She wore long black silk dresses. When she finally put on some heels, became an amazon and whirled around in the house - as the perfect hostess she was. As a child I loved to hide under tables. When she came looking for me, the skirt always reminded me of running horses. The silk fabric waved and showed off her shapely legs. We were both as proud of her, father and I. She was the foundation, the supporting pillar of our happy family. After her decease, it just wasn't was the same..
So my booked tickets made me dig in my wardrobe, and I found treasures. Old photo albums. My father is a photographer, meaning I have every minute of my life from France memorised in thousands of photos. In our old house he had a installed a dark room in one of our walk-in-closets. So there is not only a lot of photos taken, there are a lot of photos developed. Result - hundreds of albums. Invaluable for me. I have always been a sucker for the written word, for the illustrated images.
Found one of her. Fathers wife that is. From one of the parties in the old house. She wore long black silk dresses. When she finally put on some heels, became an amazon and whirled around in the house - as the perfect hostess she was. As a child I loved to hide under tables. When she came looking for me, the skirt always reminded me of running horses. The silk fabric waved and showed off her shapely legs. We were both as proud of her, father and I. She was the foundation, the supporting pillar of our happy family. After her decease, it just wasn't was the same..
2011-02-10
drained
Exhausted. As a result of no sleep, to many thoughts, too heavy to bear. My head is banging. Haven't been able to close my eyes even for a second, to much going on inside of me. My headache is not from drinking to many bottles of wine last night. I would like to bang it in to the wall. Because that kind of pain I can take. But this, this is something else..
I escaped last night. When I woke up from my coma I realised that I haven't met him for a few days. Just the distraction I needed. So I went to his place. We made up a fire, emptied a couple of bottles, smoked each other down to the filter and made love, whenever our subjects of discussion ran out. I ended up sitting naked in front of the fire, staring. Together we fed the fire with old Elle mags, and she licked everything we gave her. I saw the thin smiles of spotlight girls disappear into it. For a second I thought about c, but then he kissed my neck, continuing down my spine - and I forgot about all the sadness and choose to live in the moment, as of right now.
I escaped last night. When I woke up from my coma I realised that I haven't met him for a few days. Just the distraction I needed. So I went to his place. We made up a fire, emptied a couple of bottles, smoked each other down to the filter and made love, whenever our subjects of discussion ran out. I ended up sitting naked in front of the fire, staring. Together we fed the fire with old Elle mags, and she licked everything we gave her. I saw the thin smiles of spotlight girls disappear into it. For a second I thought about c, but then he kissed my neck, continuing down my spine - and I forgot about all the sadness and choose to live in the moment, as of right now.
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