Friday, February 28, 2003 :::
 

DON'T EVER TRY TO LIVE YOUR DREAM
(BECAUSE YOU'LL END UP IN TEARS)

Don't ever try to live your dream
Because you'll be full of deceit
Because we'll see what your dream is
And we'll crunch it, chomp it, stomp on it
Until your crystal fantasy turns into a pile of broken glass lying on the floor
Opening wounds into your wrists till you cry and your tears blur your vision for the rest of your life
Don't try to be free
Because we'll be there anywhere you go
Under the shape of a landlord urging you to pay the rent
Or a manager, yelling at you because you work to slow
We'll be there under forms you never expected
A friend telling you're crazy, or a tutor bringing you down
We're the smiles on the faces on the banknotes you need
Either the queen or Ben Franklin
We're the crowd despising you because you don't wear designer clothes
We're the fine food smels teasing your nostrils outside a posh restaurant
And when you come back home, piteous and in tears
We're your family contemptuously saying 'we told you, you're noy going far in leaving everything'
While only you know that you've not left anything at all
Because there's no way to escape us
And that every dream that has not been pledged and labelled by us is definitely absurd
But you can't tell them, coz they can't know

Don't try to be free because you can't be free
We're the jailers, and we're everywhere
We're in the streets, we're in the sheds
We're in TV, we're in your head
Don't try to flee away
You'd soon realize that you are and have always been your own true prison

We'll be the people who don't listen to you
We'll be the ones that hate you
We'll even be the one you love
And you can't satisfy both her and your desires
We'll be your hunger and thirst
The cold winter as well as the hot summer
We'll be life as a whole because life, including yours, belongs to us
Life is ours, we are life

You say you don't need the money
We say money owns you

We're asking you not to drink anymore
We're asking you to dress up
Put on that fucking tie, tight, tight
Don't touch that computer
Hurry up!
We'll make you regret to have dared try to live your dream
Have you realized now that there's no place for dreams down here?
Leave that for the few hours we leave you for sleeping
Or when you'll die

death might not be an answer, though
As we might still be there
Mightier

You pathetic miserable parasite
You think you gonna make it?
You think you can succeed?
Where billions of others failed, for centuries
You'll object that some of them did succeed into realizing their dreams
That's right, but we decided to make them true, else you wouldn't even have heard of them
All your Kerouac, Celine, Lydon
We made them, created them, used them, squeezed them, then dropped and forget them
They're just here to make you feel that you can do it
To help you moving on into your prefab job
Believing one day you'll maybe achieve your dream

But you wanted to be smart
You waned to be wide
And you tried to escape the rat race we've drawned for you
Tou wanted to achieve your dream a bit too early
You wanted to live i t
And we'll make you regret it
Because now that you know that dreams are unrealizable
You're becoming dangerous
Bitter and disillusioned
It's not goood for business
It's not good for waking up in the morning
And painstakingly earning money
It's not good for us

The fact is we love dreams
As long as they remain such

Dreams are the motor of our economy
Dreams are money

Without dreams, nobody'd go to work anymore
We want you to dream, not to live
And since you tried to live, we'l have to dismiss you
Marginalize you
Make the other people despise you
The people with dreams
The good people


Echec...
C'est un mot qui caracterise bien ma vie jusqu'ici. Il m'a pas fallu plus de deux semaines pour realiser que j'avais fait une connerie.
Ben oui, je suis parti parce que je ne voulais pas travailler pour avoir du temps pour ecrire, et finalement je me suis retrouve ici a courir a droite a gauche pour quemander un job de merde. J'ai ete embauche dans un bar, et au bout de deux jours j'en pouvais plus: travail chiant et fatiguant, manager qui te gueule dessus, Paye minable. C'est debile, j'ai un diplome d'archi donc, tant qu'a faire qu'a travailller, autant faire un truc plus sympa et mieux paye. Au debut je voulais travailler qu'a mi temps, mais c'est pas viable, il faut de la thune pour se payer a boire et a fumer et... a manger? euh oui aussi un petit peu. Si je suis publie et qe ca marche bien (deux conditions) je pourrai arreter de bosser, mais joe m'a fait comprendre qu'il y avait encore beaucoup de travail a faire sur Cumbridge, et lui a pas beaucoup de temps (il doit en etre a la page 20 maintenant, yoohoo), donc en attendant, je veux faire un boulot tranquille, une planque quoi, ce que je trouverai pas par ici. En plus, bon j'ai cherche un peu les cercles litteraires par ic, et ils sont quasiment inexistants, faut bouger a londres pour trouver quelque chose, mais vu les prix...
Donc, je rentre sur Paname. Je prends l'avion tout a l'heure, je m'inscrits a l'ANPE (cool, je vais toucher le RMI et devenir chomeur, comme mon pote Manu le coco), et je cherche un taff peinard, et je renoue avec mes potes et les slammeurs, et j'arrete de dire que PAris c'est pourri parce que c'est pas vrai, et meme si c'est vrai moi j'aime bien la pourriture de Paris, finalement. J'suis pas un activiste, j'ai pas envie de devenir squatteur ou clodo, j'ai juste envie d'avoir ma ptite place pepere, mes bouquins, ma machine a ecrire, et que tout le monde me foute la paix. J'ai pas envie de connaitre tout le monde, je veux ma petite bande de potes que je connais depuis longtemps, je veux mes happy hours et mon petit confort.
Mes parents savent que je reviens pourtrouver un boulot, j'investis l'ancienne chambre de mon frere (vous savez, celle au 7eme etage avec la pure vue, nickel pour l'inspiration). J'ai pas de loyer a payer, le boulot je leveux dans un petit magasin de deco interieur confection et vent d'objets artisanaux, ce genre de truc, pasque je veux pas bosser en agence, c'est comme travailler dans un bureau, et de toute facon je peux faire trainer les choses parce que le RMI c'est bien plus que ce que je touchais comme argent de poche.
Je lis, j'ecris, et je me bouge un peu pour plus frequenter les poetes slammeurs, les artistes, les concours, les editeurs. Bref, je fais un truc sense et constructif. En plus, je vais pouvoir ecrire des messages avec tout plein d'accents partout maintenant, et si ca c pas cool...

Bon je sais pas si j'ai battu le record du plus long post, mais moi je l'ai ecrit moi-meme avec mes petites mains, j'ai pas fait un bete copier/coller.

::: posted by Tranxenne at 11:02 AM

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