Live Your Life in Colours

mardi 3 mai 2011

Oscar Wilde

"The world is changed because you are made of ivory and gold. The curves of your lips rewrite history."

The Picture of Dorian Gray

Posté par ChachOu_m à 19:32 - Commentaires [0] - Permalien [#]

lundi 17 janvier 2011

La Promesse de l'aube

« Avec l'amour maternel, la vie vous fait à l'aube une promesse qu'elle ne tient jamais. On est obligé ensuite de manger froid jusqu'à la fin de ses jours. Après cela, chaque fois qu'une femme vous prend dans ses bras et vous serre sur son cœur, ce ne sont que des condoléances. On revient toujours gueuler sur la tombe de sa mère comme un chien abandonné. Jamais plus, jamais plus, jamais plus. Des bras adorables se referment autour de votre cou et des lèvres très douces vous parlent d'amour, mais vous êtes au courant. Vous êtes passé à la source très tôt et vous avez tout bu. Lorsque la soif vous reprend, vous avez beau vous jeter de tous côtés, il n'y a plus de puits, il n'y a que des mirages. Vous avez fait, dès la première lueur de l'aube, une étude très serrée de l'amour et vous avez sur vous de la documentation. Je ne dis pas qu'il faille empêcher les mères d'aimer leurs petits. Je dis simplement qu'il vaut mieux que les mères aient encore quelqu'un d'autre à aimer. Si ma mère avait eu un amant, je n'aurais pas passé ma vie à mourir de soif auprès de chaque fontaine. Malheureusement pour moi, je me connais en vrais diamants ».

Romain Gary

Posté par ChachOu_m à 10:27 - Commentaires [0] - Permalien [#]

lundi 7 juin 2010

El secreto de sus ojos (Dans ses yeux)

"Ne refaites pas l'histoire avec des si. Vous aurez mille passés et pas de futur."


Posté par ChachOu_m à 09:52 - - Commentaires [1] - Permalien [#]

samedi 8 mai 2010

Television is a drug

Une vidéo de Beth Fulton, inspiré du poème 'Television' de Todd Alcott.


Look at me. Look at me. Look at me, look at me, look at me. Look at me. No, no, no, don't look over there, look at me, look at me, look at me.
Are you looking at me? Is everyone looking at me? Do I have your attention? Good.
Don't get the wrong idea. I'm not trying to take over your life. You need, what? What do you need? You need to, what? Go to the bathroom? Fine. Get up, go to the bathroom, come back, look at me. You need, what? You need to get something to eat? Fine. Get up, go to the kitchen, get something to eat, come back, look at me. You need to, what, sleep? Fine, get up, go to bed, go to sleep, get up, come back, look at me.
Okay. So we have an agreement. You will do what you absolutely need to do, and when you're done, you will come back and look at me.
Don't worry about your schedule. I am here for you. I am here for you. Twenty-four hours a day, seven days a week, I am here for you. I am here for you. You need me, I'm here. Fair and foul, thick and thin, I am here for you. I am here for you. People try to tell you I'm bad? You tell them that I am here for you. Twenty-four hours a day, fair and foul, thick and thin, I am here for you. I am here for you. People try to tell you I'm bad, know what that sounds like to me? Sour Grapes.
You see what I--hey, hey, hey, hey, hey, no, dont look over there, there's nothing going on over there, look at me, look at me, look at me.
I've got stuff you wouldn't believe. Danger? Sex? Action? Death? Thrills? Comedy? All here, all in the next eight minutes.
Can you believe it? You can't. It's unbelievable. You can't believe it because its unbelievable! It's a miracle.
Just keep looking at me. Just keep looking at me. Just keep looking at me. Look at me, look at me, look at me, look at me, look at me.

Posté par ChachOu_m à 09:57 - - Commentaires [0] - Permalien [#]

vendredi 7 mai 2010

Aphorisms on Futurism

DIE in the Past
Live in the Future.

THE velocity of velocities arrives in starting.

IN pressing the material to derive its essence, matter becomes deformed.

AND form hurtling against itself is thrown beyond the synopsis of vision.

THE straight line and the circle are the parents of design, form the basis of art; there is no limit to their coherent variability.

LOVE the hideous in order to find the sublime core of it.

OPEN your arms to the dilapidated; rehabilitate them.

YOU prefer to observe the past on which your eyes are already opened.

BUT the Future is only dark from outside.
into it—and it EXPLODES with Light.

FORGET that you live in houses, that you may live in yourself—

FOR the smallest people live in the greatest houses.

BUT the smallest person, potentially, is as great as the Universe.

WHAT can you know of expansion, who limit yourselves to compromise?

HITHERTO the great man has achieved greatness by keeping the people small.

BUT in the Future, by inspiring the people to expand to their fullest capacity, the great man proportionately must be tremendous—a God.

LOVE of others is the appreciation of oneself.

MAY your egotism be so gigantic that you comprise mankind in your self-sympathy.

THE Future is limitless—the past a trail of insidious reactions.

LIFE is only limited by our prejudices. Destroy them, and you cease to be at the mercy of yourself.

TIME is the dispersion of intensiveness.

THE Futurist can live a thousand years in one poem.

HE can compress every aesthetic principle in one line.

THE mind is a magician bound by assimilations; let him loose and the smallest idea conceived in freedom will suffice to negate the wisdom of all forefathers.

LOOKING on the past you arrive at “Yes,” but before you can act upon it you have already arrived at “No.”

THE Futurist must leap from affirmative to affirmative, ignoring intermittent negations—must spring from stepping-stone to stone of creative exploration; without slipping back into the turbid stream of accepted facts.

THERE are no excrescences on the absolute, to which man may pin his faith.

TODAY is the crisis in consciousness.

CONSCIOUSNESS cannot spontaneously accept or reject new forms, as offered by creative genius; it is the new form, for however great a period of time it may remain a mere irritant—that molds consciousness to the necessary amplitude for holding it.

CONSCIOUSNESS has no climax.

LET the Universe flow into your consciousness, there is no limit to its capacity, nothing that it shall not re-create.

UNSCREW your capability of absorption and grasp the elements of Life—Whole.

MISERY is in the disintegration of Joy;
Intellect, of Intuition;
Acceptance, of Inspiration.

CEASE to build up your personality with the ejections of irrelevant minds.

NOT to be a cipher in your ambient,
But to color your ambient with your preferences.

NOT to accept experience at its face value.

BUT to readjust activity to the peculiarity of your own will.

THESE are the primary tentatives towards independence.

MAN is a slave only to his own mental lethargy.

YOU cannot restrict the mind’s capacity.

THEREFORE you stand not only in abject servitude to your perceptive consciousness—

BUT also to the mechanical re-actions of the subconsciousness, that rubbish heap of race-tradition—

AND believing yourself to be free—your least conception is colored by the pigment of retrograde superstitions.

HERE are the fallow-lands of mental spatiality that Futurism will clear—

MAKING place for whatever you are brave enough, beautiful enough to draw out of the realized self.

TO your blushing we shout the obscenities, we scream the blasphemies, that you, being weak, whisper alone in the dark.

THEY are empty except of your shame.

AND so these sounds shall dissolve back to their innate senselessness.

THUS shall evolve the language of the Future.

THROUGH derision of Humanity as it appears—

TO arrive at respect for man as he shall be—

ACCEPT the tremendous truth of Futurism
Leaving all those


Mina Loy, 1914

Posté par ChachOu_m à 19:25 - - Commentaires [0] - Permalien [#]