C'est un putain...

C'est un putain de texte qu'on écrit à une heure où on doit dormir,
Un putain de message qu'on pond avec 4 grammes dans le sang
et autant de Paracétamol pour être plus frais le lendemain.

C'est un putain de texte,
écrit par une pute de mec qui ferait n'importe quoi pour trouver un écho.
Un putain de message pour les putes qui comprennent.

C'est un putain de texte,
comme autant de SOS
qui méritent aucune aide,
mais qui n'ont de cesse
de trouver un prochain
dans le corps d'une déesse
ou d'un saint.

C'est un putain de texte chié en écoutant
des mélodies anciennes
bonnes pour un putain d'ado.
Un putain de message
pour clamer à l'antienne
que la nuit fait froid dans le dos.

Un putain de message - un pute de pourriture,
un putain de message, une salope d'écriture,
à des heures où on dort
mais où mon corps appelle.
Un putain de message
oublié dès demain...
Un putain de texte de rien...

Juste pour te dire "reviens"
Pour prier pas de lendemain...

Macadam Cowboy

" Stop that train! "

Il fait chaud, ça pue et en plus il me marche dessus et faisant la gueule... Réglement de compte... On est six pieds sous terre, direction Lollipop-land, Missouri ou Westerntown... sweet banlieue pourrie.

Il fait chaud et humide. Un café au saloon avant de chevaucher et de se faire un rail... direction nord sud est ouest.

75004 ou 10500 c'est pareil. Si loin si proche.

Le métro, on l'attend, on le prend, on le vit.
Ici, des odeurs de gerbe et de vinasse, bienvenue à Paris. Là, des relents de Redbull et de brochettes, bienvenue à Bangkok. Des putains, des ribaudes. Des filles faciles.

Arrêt Texas, tu taxes le taxi parce que les diligences ont oublié d'être rapides.

Arrêt Ari-zona, dur dur de trouver le zig dans le zig-zag des soi.

Arrêt Alabama, Pont de l'Alma la Princesse Alarica descend là.

Et ces cons qui me font chier... qui avancent pas, qui restent devant les portes et les tourniquets...

Et ces shériffs qui me font chier, "contrôle des tickets monsieur"...

A tous ces babauds je dis "nobody can eat fifty eggs..."

Pis y'a ces mecs... Visages pâles, coeurs noirs; natifs primitifs inoffensifs et passifs... Sortir le lasso, ça me lasse... tout glisse et rien ne se passe.
Celui qui m'aime prendra le train. "Loco" à Paris, "DJ Station" à Bangkok... sans oublier Shinjuku, ou London-town... propres, nets et silencieux... à l'heure, pour qui sonne le glas.

Incident voyageur, panne technique... Road movie, c'est la calamité.

Terminus.

Interview...

Job?
Writer and teacher

Style icons ?
Brian Molko and Chloe Sevigny.

Describe your personal style :
Traditiurban. Need an explanation ? For eg. classic pants with wooden "geta" and and Westwood carry-all tied by a tradi japanez scarf.

I build my daily look around a color.

Personal Style quirk ?
Some shoking pink patches here & there.

Favorite designers ?
Ch. Lacroix and A. McQueen.

Favorite stores ?
In Paris, Marais and St Germain Places,
In Tokyo, Marui ( ground floor) @ Shinjuku
In Bkk, ZEN @ Central.

Most stylish city ?
Paris, because people make black a living color like not other ( both colors and people).

Favorite vacation spot ?
For now ? Tokyo.

Favorite cocktail ?
Guess what ? Cosmo.

Favorite place to search for inspiration ?
Website "Satorialist" and my mind...

I spend my weekends… working.

Worst fashion mistake ?
Printed T-shirts.

Guilty pleasure ?
Lonely ones.

Most overrated item in menswear ?
Sunglasses.

Most underrated item in menswear ?
Scarf.

Never caught wearing ?
Shorts, unless doing a sport.

When I was high school I wore ?
Black outfits, daily.

Cologne ?
Guerlain Vetiver.

Most cherished item ?
My Vuitton Speedy bag.

The first thing I look at in another's outfit ?
Shoes.

Proportion for me... is only a match-games between the body shapes and the size and colors.

I always break this fashion rule… wearing shirts under the pants w/ a belt.

I never break this fashion rule :
Ladies first.

I feel best wearing ?
Shirt, classic pants and Converse... All grey or black.

Dress to impress the guy in the mirror.

Shine your own shoes ?
Yes. Daily.

Your next "must have" purchase ?
Mulberry... please !

Sports ?
Dancing on the top of the world.

Favorite neighborhood restaurant ?
Pochana, chinez-thai restaurant in Banglumpoo...

Best stylish movies ?
"The Velvet Goldmine" and SC's"Marie-Antoinette"

Currently reading ?
Marie-Antoinette biography

As a conclusion, favorite fashion magazine ?
VOGUE Paris. French, after all...

Love love mode ... accessories

I'm a poor lonesome cowboy in the Fashion-sphere... Tryin' to fin my place in any mall i go...

For a long-time i'll be such a bad-temper critic in Bangkok, but now i finally found my way...
Shpping here is not such pleasant as in Paris or recently Tokyo... It's... a different sport. I noticed this a few weeks ago with my girl Brenda... I felt once again "cette sensation bizarre" i used to feel in Paris.

Almost impossible to be different... All year's long it's hot for a foreigner, so, it's hard to avoid shorts and T-shirts ( and God knows i hate them)... and if i hardly avoid comfortable polos now, it's because i like to shine... in dark.
Since i'm back from Tokyo, i remember how dark suits me. And not even the sun nor the heat can't break me down... but often... I'm good with my grey pants and shirts, my black Dc Martens shoes and my dark bags... I also feel alive in browns with my Vuitton's leather goods... I mean, it's a pleasure to go out with a grey white stiped suit pants and grey&white Converse that i can't imagine how i could wear classic shoes with.
I remember Tokyo... my grey light pink striped sweat and my so long and squared scarf matchin' with my Westwood bag... And what i learned in Bkk it's how dark can also be greys and browns when you know how match'em with accessories.

You easily understand why "accessories" are a boy best friends. They make me shine, not different but me... and why, sometimes, I miss Paris where i could change my outfits over the seasons. The for seasons.

It's an old and vain debate to compare women and men possibilities, but i guess it's more delectable to plays with traditions and styles when U're a man because nobody's more surprising than a guy appearing differently in a crowd @ nite. And i'm on it. It's more delightful than a woman because, precisely, everyone wants them to be different and men more commun... There go T-shirts in Bkk ( the exception is, some of them have more mistakes than others. Excuse me but i definetly can't be kind with this... But God knows i'm the necessary Evil here below, don't need to redeem).

Just go outside, grab your bag and earings. Wear it lightly with a pinch of Guerlain and THIS make your nite...

Perfect match ? A nice-classy guy to take care of you and your bag... But this is the icing on the cake, fast lick, fast kick...

PS : if any my now regular anonym comments-writer could gimme a clue about his - her identity, i'll be pleased ! Thanx

Paradize (Just 4 Me)

I now remember, when i was young, i now remember nothin' was wrong... Le temps a passé et me revoilà...
If U want an Apollo, knock next door, but if U want a Dionysos, push 911 and Ken will answer... so many days in paradiz, Ken feels like he'll move... Dès les premières lueurs, oh... il sombre.
Ken knows he deserve the best, because the best already happened and everytime it's back... Just that Ken always thaught that Paradiz was above his head, not under his feet. So now he learns how bright are the lights far far away... He knows how deep was the love for L. but now so far far away... Deep in the well


Chute dans le terrier au coeur de la planète,
Sépare les blancs des rouges, comme sur un échiquier,
Traverse les miroirs au péril de ta tête ,
Tout se meut si mobile, pourtant rien n'a changé.

De ce conte à dormir, ce rêve, cette poésie,
Mis en vers, mis en rond, en charade ou en rimes,
Tu seras averti tout au long d'la partie
Que ce je enfantin ne souffre qu'on le brime.


Whatever happen in the future, Ken carries on... Hell is paved with flowers along a yellow brick road...

Il n'a pas peur qu'on lui menthe, qu'on fouille ses pensées. Sa peau est lys, ses dents de lion... " Et la fleur, oui, et la fleur ? ", demande la jeune fille. Le fleur, elle a fané.

Mais le long de la route de briques jaunes, que le chemin est long pour retrouver la maison... Mais le long de la route de briques jaunes, le souvenir un peu éteint, d'une bonheur pas si lointain.

Ken thinks at nite, y'a le plafond qui le regarde... Mais si c'est Dionysos que tu cherches sur le trône, c'est la coupe qu'il t'offrira et tu seras le roi.

I now remember when i was young, i now remember i was not wrong.

La cité est un temple nu de tout horizon. Dentelée, morcelée ça et là, de métal : les tours et bâtiments jaillissent à profusion.
Un oeil attentif sait tôt y remarquer que tout semble s'unifier pour pointer les étoiles. Monter toujours plus haut, pour caresser les dieux, une main assurée y sent le froid métal, le gris acier, le minéral, des éternelles structures qui grimpent vers les cieux.
Il est des heures tardives quand il monte sur les toits (étage sept, niveau dix ou bien quatre-vingt huit), là parmi les lumières les ombres les silences les fracas. Il entre alors dans les sphères, il frappe, il s'y invite. Là toujours il regarde, à gauche à droite derrière puis en bas, les ponts, les routes les rails ; tout se met à briller.
De ta silhouette informe, je recherche ta main. Et ton signe qui pourra me guider.

If you're the guide, the messager, please knock on my heaven's door... If you seek @ me, please visit... I wanna hold your hands... I wanna kiss U in Paris, i wanna love U in a train, cross country...
But if you want Apollo in the light, close to me U'll loose your fight...
Tu as été, tu es, tu ne seras pas... Là-bas, loin de moi...

Paradize, just 4 me... I was so blind, now i can see, the paradize is just for me.
But if any, U wanna knock on my Heaven's door, sans que tu me menthes, ni ne m'envoie sur les roses... U welcome.
Quand il est arrivé de sa région de froid,
Par un dimanche matin,
'L est descendu d'auto, a appelé chez moi
Pour me tendre la main.

Lors, on s'est retrouvés dans la ville vidée,
Lui et moi, à deux pas
Séparés l'un de l'autre, mais proches par l'idée
De se chauffer les mains.

Dans les buées d'hiver, dans les lourdes fumées,
Nous nous sommes échangé
Des mots, des contes, des verres, des regards amusés,
Des paroles par les mains.

Au fil de la journée, au noeud de la soirée,
En cette éternité,
S'est tracé le dessein d'hier et de demain
De deux paires de mains.

Et quand il est parti, dans la nuit infinie,
Et quand je suis rentré,
Nos deux coeurs déjà pris, nos étoiles et nos vies
Reposaient en nos mains.

Aujourd'hui encore, et bien du temps a filé,
Lorsque l'on se retrouve,
Je pense au temps ancien, à ce dimanche matin,
Et je lui prends la main.

Since then, Ken's hands are cold.

Eve

Sex and cyber together, is a too old debate... But can U imagine another sexual-cybersome relationship than in the Internet ? It's all about Ken last nite, when the DJ didn't save his life...

All day long, Ken ran playstation, Final Fantasy X-2 ( just before the new one) and enjoyed the time with the ladies ( Yuna, you rule !).

After that and before dinner, Ken steped into the roof to dance for one hour or two. Megasound on ears, revival of the showtimes ( RE-invent myself), get into the groove, Ken missed two calls from 063-9999999... ( Don't forget never answer the 999-999999 number in Thailand, it's like watchin' a cursed video in Japan... Beware !)

So, after shower, after dinner, Ken went back home ( or rather 'den', we talk about Final Fantasy, and about RPG, Ken can be as wild as a bear, sometimes he don't even shave for a while... It's holiday, OK ?) and continued gaming for an hour when the phone rang once again. "This time, i know it's for real", Ken picked up his new Sony-E Aino.

P. was calling because tonite, after work he was alone. 2 days before, Ken went out for a coffee break when he was painting and he met P. who asked once again Ken's number. So, Ken, if you give your number, U answer. P. came to visit Ken ( remember that Ken was playing, it was such a delicate decision to take !) and they drink, speak and eat together... X-mas bonus ? They jumped on the roof and enjoyed a very beautiful view until P. start to... Ok, very erotic time, close to the skies, the skins and the cameras of the condo... Outside but private time. A few minutes of real sexy preliminaries before another hot time... But once @ home, P. started to put off his clothes, all alone and U know how much Ken hates this. This is his job...

Mechanical animal, P. starts to play Atomu's vision of sex and made Ken very uncomfortable. So came the boring time of calculated kisses and blow jobs... And suddenly Ken thaught about Yuna and her fellas and felt inside of him that he needed to play. Of course, very gentleman, Ken kept P. home, made him cum because he knows how to treat the guests... He's all French after all...

The point is it's difficult to have a blow job thinkin' about a video game... especially when the game is more enjoyable than the joystick... After this all philosophical theory, and washing his mouth, Ken declared he didn't want sex with P.

They slept together, in arms... the Xmas miracle happened...

During this post, Ken was listening Marin Marais, "Suitte d'un goût étranger"

And now, it's time for him to put on the Playstation...

Innocent blood

Three years bofore, Ken was walking on the streets all day long, waitin' for (the son of the man? ) the result of the bloody test... It was on winter time, almost Xmas, a dark day under the rain and the wind. His boyf' was positive, Ken negative. The Lord works in mysterious ways...
Three days before, Ken was drinking a cappuccino in Starfucks coffee, all morning long, waitin' for the result of the bloody test... It was on winter time, almost Xmas, a bright day under the sun and breeze. Ken is negative, thinkin' perhaps he was positive. Roads of Hail are paved of good intentions...

Everytime it's the same problem... Ken is a fabulous drama, but whatever he says, whatever he does, he don't wanna die. Life, nothin' else matter ? Nothin' ? That's not true... Blood fucks it all... Blood is not a vital force or liquid but just a social link with social life. Innocent blood, you have no blood.

Finally, Ken is negative. Of course, he knew it before the test. But the worst is to happen... In Thailand, nazis doctors flood into questions... you have to justify why you feel afraid to be sick... So, valorous and glorious Ken explained he was in a long relationship with Mister Husband and both of them wanted a normal sexlife without condom... Ken thaught this answer satisfied Doctor. But the reaction was cruel ( not that She meant to be, but Thai Eva B. was) and made me Ken wanna cry : "it's a good decision. Like that, your couple is more official"... If the blood is sane, heart's bleeding... Thai Magda G. killed the Holy Child of love deep inside Ken's heart.

Anyway, Ken has no Mister Husband @ home, but reading the result on the sheet ( shit) of paper, he thought about the lines before. Plus, what about the next Mister Husband ? What kind of social masquerade both of them will play ? It means, if your blood is sane you're alive, if not, the grave is already dug. It means, if you're afraid of AIDS you run away, cowardly... Innocent blood, you have no blood.

Later he thought about myths and crimes, about parents killing ( Magda ?) or eating the kids. All blood crimes allowed the murderer to improve himself. Innocent blood, you have no blood, insane blood, you can live.

With friends, during childhood, we used to mix our blood to sign a pact. Links of blood are strong... Bullshit. Because blood is just an engine, some gas, to improve yourself selfishly no matter the way you take, no matter how you act. Gimme your blood i'll be stronger on my own.

Ken don't really care about your blood. He just cares about what's inside the heart. He's just a fountain of blood in a shape of a boy. But men if you're men enough, stop your bloody shits and invite him for a 'BloodyMary'

He's an innocent one.

"WIN" Words

Hi guys,

today Ken was treating himself all day long. Candles, flowers and perfume, eveything to put off the icky smell of your words... Rather than knifes, your words are filthy stones because even if now Ken don't believe in them anymore, he still suffers from them as consequences...
" I don't wanna hear your words. Please take them all back... they always attack..." ladee dee ladee da !

Your words stay on Ken's skin. Of course, he tries hard, every day, to put'em off under the shower. But they stay... they stick... sticky and heavy...

" Don't analyze, don't analyze" but listen to me. Ken is a real guy... When he says he likes u or ur shirt he really means it. When he says he loves you or your smell, he also means it. The point is you like to play with words. Don't try crosswords with him... he's not a beautiful liar.

PLEAZ, shut your mouth up and open Ur heart ( and Ur brain) rather than actin' cowardly...

Ken remembers that English guy that nite ( btw, last week he baught a candle " rainy meadow" smelling like an English summer rain and that's so good) who teased him for more than one hour. Time after time, Ken proposed to continue the conversation @ home... It was late, Ken was a little drunk, a perfect situation for an English gentleman. What did happen ?
The gentleman answered he was no gay and he was waiting for his girlfirend call. Hope he was crashed under a cab...

Invitation is a so-cialize thing that Ken enjoys. Preparing a little somethin' to eat and drink, being the perfect Bree Van de Kamp, he knows well how to do it...
Unfortunatly, some guys don't understand words when they're real.

When started this kind of seduction where you fuck first and after you treat your guy ? I mean, it's plain to see there's somethin' rotten in the Siam Kingdom... A long time ago, Ken remember how attractive was " l'art discret de la séduction en ce beau pays français ". A meal, a room in a hotel by the sea, a smile, an eye... Now, if he dares invit someone, it means he wants a shag...

Even when he's not in love or in sex but only for a good relationship.

Words. Ken talks about relationship rather than friendship because now everybody is your dear friend. I mean, this word mean nothing... Anyone can be your friend and everyone wants it to be... Ken prefers talks about relationship and because you guys don't understand the difference between "friendly" and "fuckly" Ken says "fuck U very much".

Guys, please stop speaking for nothin'. Open Ur mouth for a good reason and don't play to much. You're not that special... Ken is.

Burial of the Lover

Burial of the Lover

1. "April is the cruellest month..."

"April is the cruellest month "
Puis viennent mai, juin, juillet.
Les couleurs caillent, les vernis séchent.
Et la douleur,
Et les amours hier si fraîches
Rappellent si loin les jours d'été.

"April is the cruellest month "
Meurent ainsi mai, juin, juillet.
Puis vient août, avec doute
On sent mourir au coeur
La chaleur de l'été.
Tu es parti si loin, pour toi, pour rien,
Tu as quitté ma main, pour toi, sans rien.
Puis vient août, avec doute,
Qui se meurt déjà au passé.

" April is the cruellest month "
Puis tremblent ensemble,
Septembre, novembre, décembre.
Il est octobre - repos - des lumières de la ville
Mais qui s'endort trop tôt.
Et tremblent ensemble,
Septembre, novembre, décembre,
Qui chantent la fin de l'année
Sans un ris, sans un louis.
Sans un bruit.
C'est dans l'obscurité,
Pour la nouvelle année.

Louis des époques, "Futurs"

Tribute to T.S Eliot

Sympathy for the Devil, tribute to rockstars

Sympathy for the Devil

Please, give all my sympathy for the Devil...
If the doors of Heaven are opened - holy doors - please send all my sympathy to the Devil.
Ken was walkin' on the streets, spending sums he hadn't win yet. If the doors of the malls are opened - beloved doors - please give all my sympathy to the Devil.
** La Vie matérielle *

Aroma candles ................. 150 B
Greyhound shirt .............. 1850 B
Izzue "dot" shirt ................ 3250 B
TopMan shirt .................. 1300 B
Giordano pants .............. 1400 B
Ipod classic case ............ 1100 B
Phone card ....................... 300 B
Cappucino .......................... 90 B

(see details on Facebook)

Ken is going back home,
home alone
home - sick.
Many hours of computing, lyin' a few lines on the darkest part of a dream. All my sympathy for the Devil. If doors of insomnia are opened - dark doors of the nite - give all my sympathy to the Devil.

Et il y a ce garçon, ce photographe.
Passé lointain, regard perdu. Sourires rares et durs.
Rien de léger... à peine le temps d'un shoot.
Si c'est ça l'avenir...
"I reserve, I resolve
I have a reservation
I have a reservation!
What you do you mean it's not in the computer ?"
Please, sent all my prays to the Devil.

Whenever, wherever... i say a little pray to the Devil.
May all my wishes come true.
Sign a pact, sign a life,
May all my wishes come true.
At the light of a candle,
like the moth close to the flame,
My words fly away,
And circle and trace like the smoke of a cigaret.


OHM-MA-LEUK-GEUK-GUEE-MA-LEUK-GEUK-GUEE-MA-LEUK-GEUK-GUEE PIANG
Make me go to Japan
OHM-MA-LEUK-GEUK-GUEE-MA-LEUK-GEUK-GUEE-MA-LEUK-GEUK-GUEE PIANG
Make Louis comin' back to me
OHM-MA-LEUK-GEUK-GUEE-MA-LEUK-GEUK-GUEE-MA-LEUK-GEUK-GUEE PIANG
Make T. comin' close to me
OHM PIANG
OHM-MA-LEUK-GEUK-GUEE-MA-LEUK-GEUK-GUEE-MA-LEUK-GEUK-GUEE PIANG
Make me handsome
OHM-MA-LEUK-GEUK-GUEE-MA-LEUK-GEUK-GUEE-MA-LEUK-GEUK-GUEE PIANG
Make me rich and famous
OHM-MA-LEUK-GEUK-GUEE-MA-LEUK-GEUK-GUEE-MA-LEUK-GEUK-GUEE PIANG
Make me fuck a rockstar
OHM PIANG

Promiz to try...
With all my sympathy for the Devil.