La petite et ses baluchons de pollen aux pattes

Profitant du soleil de printemps et d''une promenade dans le quartier du Jonction, je me suis entrainée à photographier Boris, histoire de me mettre un peu dans le bain avant de le filmer en concert. On a à peine commencé, qu'une petite abeille des sables (je crois que ça s'appelle comme ça) avec des sacs de pollen sur les pattes s'est posé sur son bras. Un peu flippante mais mignonne la petite et ses balluchons jaunes (voir ci-dessous).

Boris me dit que mes photographies sont jolies et pleines de douceur mais je ne suis pas trop sûre de vouloir le croire. Lui qui ne veut jamais vexer les gens. Moi j'aime bien ce que j'ai fait, c'est un bon début, mais nom de dzou, comme ça m'a mis le trac de le photographier !

Camillo est toujours sur son téléphone

Tandis qu'on attend devant l'ECAL de pouvoir charger le camion avec du matériel lumière, ce choupinou de Camillo passe son énième coup de fil de l'après-midi, le dernier, promis, qu'il me dit. Il pense me convaincre qu'il peut se passer de son téléphone. La vérité est qu'il ne s'arrête jamais. Il vit cramponné dessus à attendre les appels des autres, et ça, c'est sans compter tous les messages qu'il doit checker et taper par jour. Monde de dingues. Moi ? ;P Moi, j'ai pas Whatsapp, je suis juste accro à Facebook et mon Blogger, présentement. C'est tout. Toi ?

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.

I found a pearl in a shell

Doing my paperwork and Sunday laundry to this. This is mother of pearl. My favorite song of his.
Full support to this beautiful soul and Genevan musician! I am just so proud to be surrounded by incredible artists!



See also the homemade clip, timelapse galore

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 !

En repérages au Casino de Divonne

20h27. Oim et les termites du spectacle en vadrouille. On braque rien mais on arrive et on va tout niquer.

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)

Delphine et dauphins

Là d'où je viens...

Printemps

Hier, encore un orage. Je réalise que j'ai des amis, sur lesquels je peux compter, moi qui en doutais tant. Aujourd'hui je me suis réveillé d'un mauvais rêve et me suis retrouvé dans un autre en la douce présence des chants d'oiseaux et des primevères du jardin de l'Ilot 13, qui comme des flèches joyeuses, ont percé mon coeur de glace.

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.

Another Friday night

Despite physical fatigue, it's been a wonderful week! Too bad Friday nights (and then weekends) have to come in-between. Hating Friday nights is a logical consequence of extreme solitude, I guess. No. Being on my own at the end of the week doesn't feel like downtime at all. It feels lonely.
It started in 2005. One of my closest friend ever called it quit after twenty-five years of friendship. She said she couldn't stand me anymore. It took place while I was at the darkest night of my soul.
 Time has passed. And this traumatizing event helped me to grow. I just never had a chance to trust anyone since then.

It's the same shit every Friday night. I just don't know who to call anymore. I do have friends, colleagues, family and even lovers expressing the desire to spend some time with me. It's a two-sided thing and it feels good to have them around. But that's the problem, there are only "around" and I want them to be "inside". How can you ask someone to be that close to me?

Am I crazy? Am I sick? I've phoned the suicide hotline, asked therapists. What can I do about it? Join circles with people sharing your interests, they say. Have a new haircut. Buy yourself some new clothes. Go to nature. Meditate. Let it go. Damn, I am so tired of being lectured and served the same old pieces of advice. How can I let go of that desire that be close to someone on a daily basis? The only thing that has worked for me so far, is to drown, burn, wallow inside the feeling. Solitude is a killer. And I'll be dead tomorrow and reborn next Monday into Hypocrite World of Mine.

Dimanche, à mon bureau

La tempête est passée et je me remets au travail. Me voici à mon bureau. Je rêve. Je regarde vers la fenêtre. Le crépi de l'immeuble d'en face est si blanc que la lumière qui se cogne dessus en éclaire mon salon. Je prépare un nouveau dossier de demande de subvention et je ne sais pas comment finir cette putain de phrase.

Selfies for a cure

Oh God, I feel so angry this morning. I woke up to the feeling and it's horrible. I need to recollect. Taking and posting selfies is what it takes to medicate myself. That's self-help. Therapy. Sorry not sorry.