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polygon area, southampton, on a Sunday morning | 06 avril 2009

Sunday morning,
you can hear the sun falling hard on the Polygon. If I hear the sun, that's not because people went to church nor because Sunday mornings are to be happy-family-time-in-the-garden - you know, the back of the Kellog's box-. Nor it is a day couples and single lovely human beings allow themselves a well deserved extra hour in bed after a hard week.
This morning even the pink-hair lady isn't out emptying her bins from the cans she didn't buy. I'm walking out of Burlington road, my beloved one-year-stand street, and everything is so quiet that it seems unreal. Even the birds, not that I see any, seem to know.
It's dead quiet because yesterday night, 99% of the road went to piss itself right down from the bottom of the stomach to the brain, and at this precise moment, while I'm turning at the corner I can see all those sons and daughters, all those brave boys and girls that mum and dad have mountains of money and hope for, all those future graduates and adults building the British society, they are all just sleeping little babies, they are little angels lying flat among cans and bottles, for some of them with barbies whose name they forgot, for others with empty sachets which price they wish they could forget, they're all upside down, floating like dead corpses in dark oil, in their intoxicated black and blank sleep.
I'm quiet too while I walk out, I know how every single boy and girl will wake up in a few hours, and they'll all wake up with the same hangover, inside each single house a pathetic story with no plot repeating itself, ad nauseam.

I'm smiling, fuck knows why.

Publié par fanguk à 21:03:02 dans Fang in U.K. | Commentaires (5) |

Pap' | 03 février 2009

'Ca fait combien alors ?'

'Ben 89.
C'est pas mal. C'est beaucoup même. Un peu trop parfois.
Comme on dit du moment que la tête est la... Mais bon je sais pas ce qui est le mieux,
parce que tu te rends compte de tout ce que tu ne peux pas faire, tu es conscient si tu veux,
alors que d'être gateux, au moins, tu t'en rends pas compte.
C'est juste moins embêtant pour les autres, je suppose.'

Publié par fanguk à 11:11:48 dans bribes. | Commentaires (2) |

wecommunicatewithoutwords | 09 janvier 2009

"Hi Fang.

Happy new year.
I have saw your site.
I feel your mind from your photo.

Always I wish your happy.

yuichi
from Tokyo, Japan"

Publié par fanguk à 10:33:42 dans bribes. | Commentaires (0) |

Candles for Gaza | 08 janvier 2009

Cycling back from the swimming pool I see a group of people with candles. I stop for a minute and walk to ask what they do that for. Leading to the question : 

Hi, what are you lighting candles for ?
For Gaza.
I consider her answer.
For Gaza, or for peace ?
She changes her face straight away.
Well for peace of course, and for the people in Gaza. Who are suffering.
As she changed her face in the another-fucking-jew-related-moron-fuck-off-you-fucking-idiot-face while looking away, I thought it was appropriate to start changing mine too, into the I'm-smiling-at-how-unsurprising-this-answer-is-and-of-course-i'm-not-going-to-ask-you-what-about-the-365-other-days-Israel-gets-civils-targeted-bombs-don't-worry-face.
Because I know she knows and she knows I know, poor old retired lady and her hypocrite christian compassion. 
Another retired lady (oh yeah, that's a fact you might not be aware of : in the UK all peace demonstration and volonteering is done by old retired ladies,) this other lady says, with a little voice, it's also for the people in Israel, because they (apparently?!) suffer too.
I wish she had talked to me first, which is silly, of course.
 

 

Publié par fanguk à 21:00:08 dans Fang in U.K. | Commentaires (0) |

-- | 08 janvier 2009

I'm afraid one day I will forget daylight,
I won't realise there is light falling on every millimeter of the surface around me.
Houses on each side of streets will start to dance mad, mad and uncontrollable,
or will stand straight, much too straight, scarily solid and concrete, as cold as proved facts. Both cases will make me feel I cannot wake up from a spreading nightmare, and even more the space in between those two visions.
 
I won't observe the soft lines and curves of my lover's face because he won't be sleeping next to me anymore,
his muscles twitching like cats do when they dream, the secret network I draw between his eyelids, the commissure of his lips, asleep, his nose and cheek bones he would feel my face with, the flawless eyebrows, the out of focus chin and hair line.
I'll stare at the emptiness at night, my mouth and eyes full of cold sand.
I'll look sad and depressed, if anyone would care to qualify the state I'd be fast drowning in. But inside there would be no sadness, not at all, there would be something beyond loneliness and mere regrets, there would be a whole world of shadows and nothingness no word can be put on.
There would be nihility.

Publié par fanguk à 14:07:38 dans Fang in U.K. | Commentaires (1) |

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