It takes a great creativity to survive in Paris, its residents quite a lot. I must be clever to be able to stand out. Likewise with the singers, the longer they must become more creative to get a bite of bread. Almost a month I walked along the streets in Paris and from them I learned that it's not much difference between creativity and absurdity. Imagine this, at that time I was in the bus in broad daylight. The sun was very unfriendly. Then a singer climbed into the bus. "Ah, the entertainment" so I thought. I waited for him to sing, but he didn't bring any musical instrument. "Maybe Capella,... at least" so I thought. But then he pulled out a board from his bag. "I'm singing," so the writing on board. Ah, that day was getting hot, as hot as my heart which remained silent.
You, Jan Pepijn Servaas, Lakshmi Lavanya and Pranay Suresh like this.
Cisca Zarmansyah: O yeah? Last day I was also having lunch near the market. I was screwed, because all things were not going as planned. Then came a street musician approached me. At that time I would like to request a song titled "TROUBLE" to him. But before I could say anything, he immediately plucked his guitar strings very loud. When finished, he uttered a single stanza of the lyrics. STORM. Then he started asking for money to everyone there. I didn't even know what was happening.... Well, because on that day all things were not going according to plan. I've been saying this mess since the beginning of my sentence... ehhehee
Valentino Vie :Hahahaha,...that's fine! Very fine, sweet baby. Let's continue sharing this very touching & fun story. Well, I didn't have any plan at the moment I was dizzy on the same bus, thinking about my own life issues. Suddenly, there was a fairly attractive woman. She looked clean and tidy. At first glance, she looked like a college student. Then she started telling about her father who fell into debt, about her odd job from morning till dawn, about her struggle to stay in college, until her very positive conviction that she could pay all her father's debts. She also shared a kind of CV that its contents were the facts that (which if I wanted) I could check its truth. But then she closed her outpouring of heart with singing. Unfortunately, it all ends with an anti-climax. Her voice was bad. Dang!
Pranay Suresh: During a hot day like hell was leaking, the expression of people faces on the bus here were very sour and unpleasant. I wanted to rush home, but got into the bus a creature dressed up thick, used ping pong balls on the nose, cheap sunglasses and boots were painted colorful. His ukulele....ahai, was bright blue. This street musician was a bit hard going, dressed like a clown. But that was okay, it made a rather festive atmosphere.
Cisca Zarmansyah: Nino Dahling,... Congestion here, there was never completed as well. My stomach was rumbling. I was stuck in a traffic bus. It's not fragrant of fried chicken that I got, oowwh ... nor a street musician who intended to sing by wearing a chicken suit that made me want to dance the Chicken Dance with joyous. Oh, no! Not at all. But this street musician climbed onto the bus and shouted loudly,... "Chicken! Chicken! Chicken!" ... and did so until he tired himself. You see that? Ah, this world is indeed difficult to understand. Nyah nyah nyah nyaaaah...
Lakshmi Lavanya :....
Jan Pepijn Servaas:Nah, nah... this was so absurd, was getting to be no obvious, silly, surreal, whatever. In fact, they could process it into material for a living. Sometimes, though with a furrowed brow, I could even be entertained. I was also tired of seeing the action lively, normal, but just the same action only. Moreover to them who were so creative have threatened to rob when they were not given the reward of singing.
...Hey, friends...it's better absurd, vague, surreal and silly, as long as it is original.
Valentino Vie:
Cisca Zarmansyah: Recevez chez vous votre étiquette à bagage personnalisée avec accorhotels, monsieur. Attention quantité limitée! Ou jouez et gagnez vos vacances en Lorraine! 2 séjours en location à gagner dans les plus beaux campings dans là. Ne pas oublier, crée ton équipe de potes et grimpez au sommet du classement pour tenter de partir ensemble à Las Vegas ou en Californie, tous frais payés....blah hhe...ehehee...
Est-ce ma faute à moi si vous n'êtes pas grands? Vous aimez les hiboux, les fouines, les tyrans. Le mistral, le simoun, l'écueil, la lune rousse. Vous êtes Myrmidon que son néant courrouce. Hélas! l'envie en vous creuse son puits sans fond, Et je vous plains. Le plomb de votre style fond. Et coule sur les noms que dore un peu de gloir...e, Et, tout en répandant sa triste lave noire, Tâche d'être cuisant et ne peut qu'être lourd. Tortueux, vous rampez après tout ce qui court. Votre oeil furieux suit les grands aigles véloces. Vous reprochez leur taille et leur ombre aux colosses. On dit de vous: - Pygmée essaya, mais ne put.- Qui haïra Chéops si ce n'est Lilliput? Le Parthénon vous blesse avec ses fiers pilastres. Vous êtes malheureux de la beauté des astres. Vous trouvez l'océan trop clair, trop noir, trop bleu. Vous détestez le ciel parce qu'il montre Dieu. Vous êtes mécontents que tout soit quelque chose. Hélas, vous n'êtes rien. Vous souffrez de la rose, Du cygne, du printemps pas assez pluvieux. Et ce qui rit vous mord. Vous êtes envieux. De voir voler la mouche et de voir le ver luire. Dans votre jalousie acharnée à détruire, Vous comprenez quiconque aime, quiconque a foi. Et même vous avez de la place pour moi! Un brin d'herbe vous fait grincer s'il vous dépasse. Vous avez pour le monde auguste, pour l'espace, Pour tout ce qu'on voit croître, éclairer, réchauffer, L'infâme embrassement qui voudrait étouffer.Vous avez juste autant de pitié que le glaive. En regardant un champ vous maudissez la sève. L'arbre vous plaît à l'heure où la hache le fend. Vous avez quelque chose en vous qui vous défend. D'être bons, et la rage est votre rêverie. Votre âme a froid par où la nôtre est attendrie. Vous avez la nausée où nous sentons l'aimant. Vous êtes monstrueux tout naturellement. Vous grondez quand l'oiseau chante sous les grands ormes. Quand la fleur, près de vous qui vous sentez difformes, Est belle, vous croyez qu'elle le fait exprès. Quel souffle vous auriez si l'étoile était près! Vous croyez qu'en brillant la lumière vous blâme. Vous vous imaginez, en voyant une femme, Que c'est pour vous narguer qu'elle prend un amant, Et que le mois de mai vous verse méchamment. Son urne de rayons et d'encens sur la tête. Il vous semble qu'alors que les bois sont en fête, Que l'herbe est embaumée et que les prés sont doux, Heureux, frais, parfumés, charmants, c'est contre vous. Vous criez: au secours! quand le soleil se lève. Vous exécrez sans but, sans choix, sans fin, sans trêve, Sans effort, par instinct, pour mentir, pour trahir. Ce n'est pas un travail pour vous de tout haïr, Fourmis, vous abhorrez l'immensité sans peine. C'est votre joie impie, âcre, cynique, obscène. Et vous souffrez. Car rien, hélas, n'est châtié. Autant que l'avorton, géant d'inimitié! Si l'oeil pouvait plonger sous la voûte chétive. De votre crâne étroit qu'un instinct vil captive. On y verrait l'énorme horizon de la nuit. Vous êtes ce qui bave, ignore, insulte et nuit. La montagne du mal est dans votre âme naine. Plus le coeur est petit, plus il y tient de haine. ( A CEUX QUI SONT PETITS - VICTOR HUGO )
I am a waterfall in the desert. A rain from a cloudless sky. A well known but unborn child. An insistence experience that you never had. I play mind games with your brain. When you strike the keys and remember the sea, I come as indefinable memory. When you look at your watch and the time has passed, you feel me like a fleeting hallucination. I play mind games with your brain. I’m nesting behind your eyes. I’m ranging through your dreams. You are finding me in all of your desires. In all of those are absent from you. I play mind games with your brain. I stand in the places that you can't reach. I exist where you can't touch upon. But I am what you always waiting for. I'm what holds your life on. I play mind games with your brain. But I swear this is not a fun. I feel unbearable loneliness, because I don't have a body. And you, that you have, refuse me yours. (DIMITRIS VAROS)
You, Lakshmi Lavanya, Pranay Suresh and Jan Pepijn Servaas like this.
Valentino Vie : Baby, I gather the words ever spoken in our minds and make them as a red carpet or the ocean that we can swim. Let us venture into the jungle of words relay, branched and even lead us to a wild thought unstoppable. I can't put it in my narrow wall, cause it hates me.
Valentino Vie : Les paupières de Cupidon flottement pendant un moment et les passions accumulées commencent à s'agiter comme les nuages de mauvais augure d'un orage. Moi, perdu à l'esprit, est soudainement actualisée et canalisé le désir se déchaîne avec toute la férocité d'une bête carnivore. Nos baisers sont soufflées et notre amour-flèches à pointes sont envoyés vers l'ouest sur les vents de désir aiguisé. Que les courants invisibles peuvent découler de moi à vous avec une force de pénétration invisibles, mais néanmoins ressentie par le cœur qui bat douce recevoir dans votre sein comme une horloge. La percussion témoin en tapotant un rythme sanguine et la régulation de la vie-force que je chéris au-delà de tout. Je l'écoute de votre approche, d'attente, comme une sentinelle consacré à un autre aperçu de votre beauté.
Valentino Vie : The leftlibertarian, which should go first: the state or capitalism? Check your premises on specialized anti-propaganda sites: Just say yes! Could you be pregnant? If we had sex during your period, could you be pregnant? Baby, if you miss your period and think that you're pregnant, please get a test of it. I can't be patient waiting for the result. (August 10, 2010).
Valentino Vie : You see the drink in my hand. It's not my first time. You are not surprised by how many I have had. The fact that I'm still conscious is a miracle. You watch me stagger to the door. A child is learning how to walk. It pains you to see me so.You try to help but it is to no avail. Persistent that I'm in control, you push me aside like a troublesome. Fly. I stumble to the car. You try to stop me, but for some reason, you will begin to die. You watch me dart away, cowering in the shadows, knowing the price for cowardice is too high to pay. There isn't a night that you don't think about it. The tears come bit by bit. Your soul cry out more and more, for your friends life has just been lost. In a single heartbeat, a life is born. In a single heartbeat, a life is lost. And it can happen in a day. It can happen in a second with the slightest of east. A life lost floats away in the breeze. It happens with but a simple question, "Can I have a drink, please?" ( Vie's drink- Paris, 11 août 2010)
Valentino Vie : It all begins from the words, coming from the tip of the lips. I keep listening, brain keep thinking. So far goes in the deep end, love keep us floating. I keep hoping. Maybe soon we can sit down, and get the right cards. The cards have been dealt, cards turned, and showed me a hand my heart was in. I guess this is what happens when one gambles, but I already know this game. My hands turn as my cards shows ace of spades, on to the next one. (August 11, 2010)
Valentino Vie : Are you pregnant?
Valentino Vie: Can he impregnate you?
Valentino Vie: A red cloud swells and littering the court of heaven on the cheek of time. I orgasm with the sky. In a dance and sniffed the breath of life smoke, I inhale a deep certainty today. Among the dim oil lamp-trip travel, I try to offer the star, which is only a speck of light on the extent of incised night. Sometimes I cry for an expectation that's too long to be able to embrace. Sometimes I could just sit down and limp after a fall and worship. Sometimes to understand life, leaving only a mockery to the owners of time. I cry but you laugh. I slam but you laugh. Aaah....ooh...ah. My night sperm always overpowers the horizon, at the end of twilight. I orgasm with the sky, between nakedness covers the time. (V- Midnight Interlude, Novembre 2010)
Cisca Zarmansyah: Dahling, please copy my comment into the status on my wall. I can't share this thought in my wall, because the status updates must be less than 420 characters. I have entered 539 characters here. Notes can be much longer, but I wouldn't like to edit and post my update as a note instead. You can check the truth. Is it true that I've entered 539 characters for the phrase, "Love in the private sphere can be very sectarian. Thus a father could love his child to do anything for his child's success. A radical group can be so loved up sacrificing his life through suicide bombings. An ethic of solidarity was far from the two examples. Ethics of political solidarity in encouraging love on a new dimension: Public dimension. To love is to see others not as ideological enemies or objects, but as an equal political subjects. Loving means giving an opportunity for all perspectives to enter into a public discourse."?
Valentino Vie
Cisca Zarmansyah
Dahling, please copy my comment into the status on my wall. I can't share this thought in my wall, because the status updates must be less than 420 characters. I have entered 539 characters here. Notes can be much longer, but I wouldn't like to edit and post my update as a note instead. You can check the truth. Is it true that I've entered 539 characters for the phrase, "Love in the private sphere can be very sectarian. Thus a father could love his child to do anything for his child's success. A radical group can be so loved up sacrificing his life through suicide bombings. An ethic of solidarity was far from the two examples. Ethics of political solidarity in encouraging love on a new dimension: Public dimension. To love is to see others not as ideological enemies or objects, but as an equal political subjects. Loving means giving an opportunity for all perspectives to enter into a public discourse."? - My wife's thoughts
Almira Izzati, Jan Pepijn Servaas and Lakshmi Lavanya like this.
Valentino Vie: Your question mark at the end of the sentence was read so smart, baby. If I didn't answer your question, I even was fooled that you were asking me. haha I thought you were saying.
Valentino Vie: I've entered 954 characters, it does not mean anything compared to your character. I know for sure!
Valentino Vie: So far, there is no limiting character of My Wife's thoughts. I added the character itself without your will. Sorry hahaha, my wife. I hate quotes in between the word of you!
Cisca Zarmansyah: Thanks for doing what I ask. I don't think that adding some more characters doesn't restrict the space for you to share with me. Can you keep writing until you fall asleep? I'm still waiting for some Full Of Surprises characters which are still hidden from you.
Dahling, this is the story of a poor little girl who is forced to marry a fisherman from the neighbor coastal, whereas she loves another man. When the fisherman knows the existence of his wife lover, he sails to the sea with his small wherry, although he knows the storm will blow. The day is dark, the wind will rise. There's a maelstrom of the seafloor. There's a storm of music, and the fisherman is drowned, he is sucked into that maelstrom to the seabed. The two lovers are also agree to commit suicide. They are found in the next morning, washed up on beach with arms hugging each other. So, they all die. The fisherman, his wife & his wife's lover. A shark that doesn't take part in this story, is dead, too. The sea wants them all!
Lakshmi Lavanya: ....
Adriaan Zef: Occasionally, she can't escape the fact that she is an expert in starting a situation (such as her desire) and she makes all the angles become smaller. Not everyone can survive on the smallest corner where we find it so hard to stand but disappeared immediately, perhaps to heaven or sink to the bottom of earth. But I'm not her "everyone"!
Lakshmi Lavanya: Adriaan, I think this is a story written with witty enough. Try to read and consider it carefully. She acts as if she just writes about the death of a shark, and she pretends as if she doesn't know the tragedy of that love story.
Adriaan Zef : Yeah, she's the main owner of this kind of story. Anything that comes to her mind can be a story.
Cisca Zarmansyah: Ah, thank you Anya. You didn't ask how and why the two lovers agreed to commit suicide together. The following is a summary of Death Data:
* FISHERMAN
Who: Fisherman
What: The reality of life
When: When he knows
Where: On the coast
Why: Maelstrom; Hurricane; Music
How: Sucked
* SHARK
Who: Shark
What: Extra role; Witness
When: In the morning
Where: Sea
Why: Victim; Solidarity
How: Ask the sea
* LOVERS
Who: A pair of lovers (You. Me. They. We.)
What: Love story
When: In the morning (for example: after getting out of bed, breakfast or making love)
Where: On the beach
Why: I've said, "There is no answer for that yet!"
How: Don't embarrass me like this, please?
* SEA
Who: Sea
What: A place (For Sex? Sunbathe? Holiday? Dead murdered? Suicide? Bikini! Asereje!)
When: Has long been
Where: After the land
Why: Jealousy (To the love story? To the fisherman? To the boat? To the storm? To the shark? To the mainland? To the lives? To the two lovers?)
How: Sucking like the water in a toilet. (A meow was flushing the toilet. Meoww...)
I don't have time time to add a reaction from each of their families.
When finally the event was known by people around the beach, they immediately reported it to police. Soon the police arrived, accompanied by some reporters. (I don't know who informed them, but they are always the first to know about it than me). Then the incident was photographed by reporters and recorded in the news draft. The Policemen were busy preparing the investigative data and noticed the place of occurance. They looked so busy. Their footprints imprinted in the sands, but the sands were only silent. The Policemen, the Press men and the Sands, for a while they all didn't require the attention.
*****
(LA/Easter/04/22/11)
Jan Pepijn Servaas :You are so fresh with that joke. I'm laughing mad loud here.... ahahahahha....
Cisca Zarmansyah: Ik ook, Jan. Mmmmwah...! Meen je dat nou? Neeee......
Jan Pepijn Servaas : Dat idee lijkt me reuze fijn, schatje, wat u niet hoeft aan te vragen.
Almira Izzati : Wolken worden gekopieerd in het denken, zodat de schaduwen domineren de pleinen en gesprekken te brengen koelte in die onverklaarbare aanhoudende minuten warmte, van lachende mensen die uitleggen hoe je zelfmoord werkt, degenen die op onverklaarbare wijze opzeggen aanhoudende minuten.
Adriaan Zef : ..
.... Why do some people get up in the morning to commit suicide? And it's held after breakfast or make love ..... huahahaha ..... oh my, where else would I have a fiancee like you? Thank God....
Valentino Vie
My meow, you are sexy! crazy! I'm erect! ejaculation! hahahaha wear your bikini, baby. Asereje! Don't forget, there's your Sponge Bob on the seabed hahahahaaa
You, Jan Pepijn Servaas, Almira Izzati, Pranay Suresh and 2 others like this.
Valentino Vie : You didn't ask how and why the two lovers agreed to commit suicide together. The following is a summary of Death Data:
* FISHERMAN
Who: Fisherman
What: The reality of life
When: When he knows
Where: On the coast
Why: Maelstrom; Hurricane; Music --- √ SPONGE BOB! (added by me)
How: Sucked
* SHARK
Who: Shark
What: Extra role; Witness
When: In the morning
Where: Sea
Why: Victim; Solidarity
How: Ask the sea
* LOVERS
Who: A pair of lovers (You. Me. They. We.)
What: Love story
When: In the morning (for example: after getting out of bed, breakfast or making love)
Where: On the beach
Why: I've said, "There is no answer for that yet!"
How: Don't embarrass me like this, please?
* SEA
Who: Sea
What: A place (For Sex? Sunbathe? Holiday? Dead murdered? Suicide? Bikini! Asereje!)
When: Has long been
Where: After the land
Why: Jealousy (To the love story? To the fisherman? To the boat? To the storm? To the shark? To the mainland? To the lives? To the two lovers?)
How: Sucking like the water in a toilet. (A meow was flushing the toilet. Meoww...
I don't have time time to add a reaction from each of their families.
When finally the event was known by people around the beach, they immediately reported it to police. Soon the police arrived, accompanied by some reporters. (I don't know who informed them, but they are always the first to know about it than me). Then the incident was photographed by reporters and recorded in the news draft. The Policemen were busy preparing the investigative data and noticed the place of occurance. They looked so busy. Their footprints imprinted in the sands, but the sands were only silent. The Policemen, the Press men and the Sands, for a while they all didn't require the attention.
*****
(LA/Easter/04/22/11)
Places Des Vosges - written by My Wife
Lakshmi Lavanya : Alamak, ... very cool! this is my favorite song when I was in college
Pranay Suresh : Gadzooks! this is the only sign of friendship, dude
Valentino Vie : Holà! we need to party-hearty, man. My wife's best friend is the pain in my neck ... kkkk!
Pranay Suresh : It ain't rocket science!...
Valentino Vie: I must get that hook out the fastest way, as soon as possible, heh?
Pranay Suresh: Why don't you get back in the water and catch another?
Valentino Vie: I'm gonna kill them and eat them anyway, hahahaha... what the heck? Ho! I'm not that fisherman, cuy!
Almira Izzati: Lolaaa..., Pilarrrrr,... Luciaaa..... wait for us!! ASEREJE e e e e Y la baila! y la goza! y la canta! cutie... herinnert u zich de drie eenden? en ik kijk terug op de drie eendenheel mooi!
Cisca Zarmansyah:
ooh!!ooh!ouuuuh!!!!!my!!!sponge!!!bob!!!!my!!!!zorro!!!!my!!!!!masked!!!!hero!!!!aiwaaa!!!!!!aiwaaaa!!!!!are!!!!you!!!getting!!!married!!!?!!!ouch!!!this!!!!toothache!!!!inka!!sioux!!!xxxxx!!!!aiwaaaaa.....
Valentino Vie : Baby, you're an Indigo woman. What's in your mind, blazes with beauty and you never realize it. Read them : (14 items)
No comments:
Post a Comment