le 19 mai 2011,
Il serait temps de commencer. Avant que le temps ne me commence moi, la mortelle. Moi, la venimeuse. Il serait temps de t’avancer pour mesurer le précipice par dessus lequel tu te penches, sans arrêt. Après cela, recule, prends peur et vas-t-en. Sois sage. Apprend la mesure et le bon sens. Vis mais vis sans vie. Vis sans courses et sans sursauts. Vis pour le nécessaire car le nécessaire, lui, passera aisément pour du « bien assez ». Il est temps de commencer, avant que ça ne commence à s’achever. Tu es jeune et tu sors et tu ris mais tu ne sais pas de quel matériau est fait le sol sur laquelle tes pas se pose. Ton pied léger s’enfoncerait aisément dans la boue et le goudron, aussi bien dans la boue et dans le goudron que sur le sol stable et reposant de la route menant chez soi, chez les aimés, la terre granuleuse et les feuilles mortes. Tu ne sais pas où tu vas. Il est temps de commencer à savoir un petit peu, ou le peu que tu sais te commencera, toi. Toi, le Calamar Géant, le Margouilla à tête de Chien, le chameau à dos d’Ane. Commence à exister. Exister? Ou bien vivre? Se poser la question de la différence, c’est déjà la continuité de ta perte. Etre haut et insignifiant, toi, qui ne veut rien comprendre! Si tu comprends, tu n’applique pas. Tu ne veux pas. Apprend à vouloir un peu. Il serait temps que tu commences à vouloir un peu plus, avant que tes propres vœux ne te veuillent plus. Interroge ton cœur mais sans l’écouter, lui seul, seulement. Entends les échos du bon sens et de l’entendement. Mais ne te laisse pas faire. Comme un dialogue, laisse le dilemme s’installer entre ces deux extrémités, et laisse le se dénouer et se renouer à sa guise. En passant, attrape les clés et les notes engageantes et crée la partition de ce morceau déjà existant. Mensonge! Mensonge! Tu cris au mensonge. Reviens vers ce mensonge et modifie le. Affirme toi et réécris les règles. Pour tout ce qui vient de se dire n’est bon que pour un instant, avant le premier doute, avant le premier échec. Reprends tout et change le selon ta propre voix. IL SERAIT TEMPS DE COMMENCER A EDICTER SES PROPRES REGLES, AVANT QUE LES REGLES DES AUTRES NE NOUS REGLENT DEFINITIVEMENT.
mardi 31 mai 2011
The road to more & better.
April, 4th 2011
Ahlan wa sahlan ya asdiqa’i!
In the 30′s, black Americans invented the boogie-woogie on a train. Sitting in this super-modern TGV, i feel alienated, far away from this creative work of inventing a dance by listening to the train’s noises and feeling its shakes. Nowadays, everything’s too perfect and too clean. Sciences Po as well. Saying that, I mean sketchy. Sketchy like the landscape passing by the wide window, too green, too built. The trees seem perfectly cut, the villages seem abnormal and unreal close to the highway. Too much concrete and too much grass. We have the same in Sciences Po, an academic concrete. The one in which you remain stuck if you stay too long. No boogie-woogie in those kind of trains, but a long and soulless dance. I should maybe stop this cynicism and say that, nevertheless, the Sciences Po dancers move with grace. If it’s not with the spirit of grace that they are taught how to dance, it’s at least with some grace of the spirit. Again, don’t misunderstand me, I would like to be able to stand among them at some point because It would mean I’ll get this other kind of strength which consist on being able to keep oneself out of freedom and pleasures for a determined amount of time. It is this utilitarian state of mind I’m not allowing myself to have. Lucky you who can live this way! And, again, it’s not you who are sketchy and too perfect, but the institution you have the luck to be part of. I’m not judging anything, I am trying to measure the depth of my inadequacy with Sciences Po, which would be quite the same, I can guess, than in other prestigious school. I am damned. Damned because I can’t accept what is seen as normal today. I thought I could. I thought I would be another Sciences Po graduated accessing the highest intellectual and public functions. Sweet illusion. I smile when I remember how happy I was to enter these big doors of Sciences Po. And I smile even more when I realize that I’m now entering even bigger doors. Doors of surprise and spontaneity. Doors of travels and humility. Maybe I’m wrong.
Right now, on my seat, on this train, one hour and nineteen minutes from Paris Gare de Lyon, nothing keeps me from achieving this unexpected journey. Nothing, expect me and my fear of people sometimes. But this fear is nothing compared to this blazing strength that follows me since I decided to quit.
I quit, really?
As my great German friend said: BESSER EIN ENDE MIT SCHRECK ALS EINEN SCHRECKEN OHNE ENDE. (Better is an end with a shock than an endless shock.)
Ja, Sciences Po schreckt mich und für immer. Aber… , niemand sollst du “für immer” sagen. (The right sentence would be: “Sag niemals nie”…)
Listening to: Nina Simone – “My baby just cares for me”
Ahlan wa sahlan ya asdiqa’i!
In the 30′s, black Americans invented the boogie-woogie on a train. Sitting in this super-modern TGV, i feel alienated, far away from this creative work of inventing a dance by listening to the train’s noises and feeling its shakes. Nowadays, everything’s too perfect and too clean. Sciences Po as well. Saying that, I mean sketchy. Sketchy like the landscape passing by the wide window, too green, too built. The trees seem perfectly cut, the villages seem abnormal and unreal close to the highway. Too much concrete and too much grass. We have the same in Sciences Po, an academic concrete. The one in which you remain stuck if you stay too long. No boogie-woogie in those kind of trains, but a long and soulless dance. I should maybe stop this cynicism and say that, nevertheless, the Sciences Po dancers move with grace. If it’s not with the spirit of grace that they are taught how to dance, it’s at least with some grace of the spirit. Again, don’t misunderstand me, I would like to be able to stand among them at some point because It would mean I’ll get this other kind of strength which consist on being able to keep oneself out of freedom and pleasures for a determined amount of time. It is this utilitarian state of mind I’m not allowing myself to have. Lucky you who can live this way! And, again, it’s not you who are sketchy and too perfect, but the institution you have the luck to be part of. I’m not judging anything, I am trying to measure the depth of my inadequacy with Sciences Po, which would be quite the same, I can guess, than in other prestigious school. I am damned. Damned because I can’t accept what is seen as normal today. I thought I could. I thought I would be another Sciences Po graduated accessing the highest intellectual and public functions. Sweet illusion. I smile when I remember how happy I was to enter these big doors of Sciences Po. And I smile even more when I realize that I’m now entering even bigger doors. Doors of surprise and spontaneity. Doors of travels and humility. Maybe I’m wrong.
Right now, on my seat, on this train, one hour and nineteen minutes from Paris Gare de Lyon, nothing keeps me from achieving this unexpected journey. Nothing, expect me and my fear of people sometimes. But this fear is nothing compared to this blazing strength that follows me since I decided to quit.
I quit, really?
As my great German friend said: BESSER EIN ENDE MIT SCHRECK ALS EINEN SCHRECKEN OHNE ENDE. (Better is an end with a shock than an endless shock.)
Ja, Sciences Po schreckt mich und für immer. Aber… , niemand sollst du “für immer” sagen. (The right sentence would be: “Sag niemals nie”…)
Listening to: Nina Simone – “My baby just cares for me”
MARHABA WA BISMILLAH
After 7 months in the most prestigious french school of political sciences (Sciences Po Middle east & Mediterranean undergraduated studies ), I decided to quit. I’m now heading to Mauritania for 3 months. Only God knows what’s waiting for me there. A documentary? A job? …Or a REVOLUTION? Whatever it is, I’m in!
Raggamuffin is a fighter & is armed: my notebooks and camera are ready.
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