Brûler et puis renaître

Je me pose tant de questions sur mon rapport aux autres en ce moment. Je ne parviens pas à me laisser vivre, à prendre les choses comme elles viennent. Il faut toujours que j'analyse et que je retienne.

La vie s'orchestre comme un grand ballet. Et moi, qui m'obstine à croire aux petites histoires que je me raconte, ne voit rien jusqu'au moment où le coeur s'ouvre. J'observe alors sa sublime chorégraphie qui se déploie en moi, autour de moi puis avec moi.

Malgré toutes ces larmes, en fait, j'ai passé hier et avant hier, deux journées merveilleuses.

Ces deux-là

Enfant, je rencontrais Katia et Maurice Krafft dans une salle de conférence genevoise. Lui me dédicacera un de leurs livres avec son fameux petit dessin du volcan qui sourit. Ce n'est qu'aujourd'hui, près de 35 ans plus tard, que je réalise à quel point leur couple m'aura influencé jusque dans mes plus profonds désirs de film et de vie de couple. Etre, faire, rêver et mourir à deux. Pour moi qui n'ait connu pratiquement que le célibat et qui n'ai jamais su aimer un homme, cela me parait totalement incroyable ! Et si beau !

A toi

Nous nous sommes quittés il y a plus de 3 ans maintenant, mais ce n'est qu'aujourd'hui que je parviens à exprimer ma gratitude pour ce que nous avons vécu. Merci Philippe, de tout mon coeur ! <3 Non, non je ne te dirai pas que j'ai écrit ce billet. A toi de le trouver. J'espère que secrètement tu me lis. Je te montre un souvenir d'un de nos voyages à Madrid.
Oui, je sais le T-shirt. No (more) comment :)) (Photo : Barni Livingston)

Another effing Saturday night

It's past 11pm. I just came back from a party I was supposed to attend 'til late tonite. I wanted to have fun but just couldn't. I am so tired of going out alone, almost all the time. These pages have had less and less connection with my film projects lately. That's sad. No one cares, I guess, about my rants.

No shit. Aren't you bored yet? Thanks for reading me. I think I am going to change temporarily the name of this site and turn it into "how I'm dealing with solitude" or should I rather say, if I were honest, "my ill-fated attempts to connect emotionnally with male human beings". Yeah right. You probably sensed it. It is about men.

As if some vortex or multidimensional gateway had just opened or something, I've been in touch with seven men over the past three weeks. Date, ex, colleague, pretender, friend, brother. They were all so nice and friendly. Like "hey, how are you doing? thanks for you're doing to me". Except something felt really really off.

For instance, one man has been calling me every six months or so, since 2007. Completely out of the blue and unsollicited requests to "just have a cup of coffee". Tired of this whole thing, I decided to confront him last year, asking if he wanted something more "than just a cup of coffee". He, of course, denied wanting anything else. Last weekend, he invited me over to his place to take pictures of his garden in bloom. Like duh. And again, in complete out of the blue and unsollicited fashion. I declined the offer this time and he sort of went a little angry.

Oh yeah. I know what you might say. I should be flattered that a man of his class (he is a wealthy well-read and very good-looking retired city attorney) has showed that much interest for so long. I should also take lightly the fact that he is married, right? Well, I wouldn't question this whole thing so much, if it wasn't that painful. Feeling so disconnected with someone is not only annoying, it hurts like shit. It is not him, but the disconnection that is killing me. All I am asking is real transperency. I mean, emotional transperency because emotions is where lies the truth of who you are.

I guess you are now laughing at this point in your reading of this blog. So I am gonna spare you with the details on why I got caught on a "funny how I can talk easily with you but I don't want anyting serious" date again. Or how the ex who raped me, requested my friendship on Facebook because, quote, he "bumped accidently on my profile" and "wanted to know what I was up to after all these years".

Deep down, I know they mean no harm and that they do what they do, because I allow them to. I just can't pretend I don't see anything. The bullshitting I can smell so strong from miles away, is making me sick. They're not even aware of the harm they're doing by "hiding", "exagerating", "minimizing", "rationalizing", "denying" who they really are, just to get away with it. Maybe I should be the one showing the example, instead of complaining. I should tell them what I feel, even if it's super ugly.

Don't get me wrong on this. The men I am talking about here, are very different from each other. And so are my experiences with each of them. It's not facts but an overall vibe that I am trying to describe. Me feeling frustrated of not making friends. All I want is to feel love again. I would like to love these men. Deeply. Freely. With all my heart. But I can't do that alone. I can't.

Thanks for bearing with me. Time to go to bed.

Cordonnière mal chaussée n'offrant aucune chaussure à son entourage

Un constat. Je viens de terminer des essais techniques en préparation de deux nouveaux tournages et je réalise que je n'ai toujours pas pris en photo ou enregistrer les voix de mes amis et de ma famille, malgré le matériel dont je dispose. J'avais pourtant promis à certains... Mettre autant d'enthousiasme et de passion, si ce n'est plus, à élaborer un propos esthétique pour mettre en valeur mes proches, devrait être un geste naturel. Alors quoi ?

Moi-mêmo nocturne du dimanche 29 novembre 2015

P.S. : Le ton maussade de ce post me vient aussi probablement du (mini) râteau que je me suis pris samedi soir. Le quatrième en 8 mois de la même personne. Comme je sais qu'il ne me lit pas, je me permets ! Il faut que ça sorte parce qu'est-ce que ça fait mal l'amour non partagé !